Chapter 4 - THE SYRINGE
Sabrina jumped to her feet.
“That video is misleading.”
Officer Martinez stared at her.
“Then explain it.”
“It was medicine.”
“What medicine?”
“Children’s allergy medication.”
“With a syringe?”
“It was oral.”
The officer zoomed in.
“No needle.”
My knees weakened slightly.
But that didn’t make me feel better.
“Why was she giving Grace medicine while she was asleep?”
Sabrina rubbed her cheek.
“She was restless.”
I looked at her.
“What did you give her?”
“I just told you.”
“What?”
“I don’t remember the brand.”
“You gave my five-year-old daughter a drug and don’t remember what it was?”
My mother stepped between us.
“She had trouble sleeping.”
“So you drugged her?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
I turned toward Grace.
“Sweetheart, did Grandma give you medicine?”
Grace nodded slowly.
“It tasted like cherries.”
“How many times?”
She held up three fingers.
My heart sank.
“Three times?”
“Grandma said it makes bad girls calm.”
Officer Martinez immediately called for paramedics.
My mother protested.
“She’s fine.”
I snapped.
“You don’t get to decide that anymore.”
The ambulance arrived.
At the hospital, doctors ran bloodwork.
Grace sat in my lap while a nurse cleaned the little scratches around her neck where Sabrina had pulled her hair.
Connor came with us.
Sabrina had been detained for questioning.
My mother was not arrested yet.
The police said they needed to review evidence.
That word—yet—was the only thing keeping me sane.
Connor sat in the corner.
“You okay?”
He nodded.
“You did the right thing.”
His eyes dropped.
“My mom is going to hate me.”
“She made that choice.”
“She says family protects family.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
I took his hand.
“Family protects children.”
He started crying.
That broke me.
I pulled him into my other arm.
For ten minutes, we sat like that.
Two kids terrified by adults who were supposed to keep them safe.
A doctor finally came in.
“Ms. Carter?”
“Yes?”
“We found diphenhydramine in Grace’s system.”
“Benadryl?”
“Yes.”
“Is she okay?”
“The level isn’t dangerous now.”
“Now?”
He paused.
“We can’t determine previous doses.”
I swallowed.
“What could too much do?”
“Extreme drowsiness, confusion, elevated heart rate. In high doses, more serious complications.”
My stomach twisted.
I looked at Grace.
She was playing with the hospital bracelet.
She had no idea.
Then the doctor added something.
“There’s another concern.”
“What?”
“Grace told our nurse that the medicine was sometimes given before photographs.”
I froze.
“What photographs?”
Connor suddenly stood up.
His face was white again.
“I know.”
I looked at him.
He walked over to the tablet, which the police had returned temporarily after copying the files.
He opened a hidden folder.
“I found these last night.”
There were dozens of pictures.
Grace sleeping.
Grace crying.
Grace sitting beside empty bottles of wine.
Grace lying on a couch while an open bottle of prescription pills sat on the table.
My blood went ice cold.
They were staging photographs.
Evidence.
For the guardianship case.
My mother and Sabrina had drugged my child, placed props around her, and photographed the scene to make it appear as if Grace was living in an unsafe home.
But there was something worse.
One photo showed Grace asleep in my bedroom.
The timestamp was Tuesday at 2:14 p.m.
I had been at work.
That meant someone had entered my apartment.
I zoomed in.
On the mirror behind Grace was a reflection.
A man holding the camera.
I recognized him instantly.
My ex-husband.
May you like
Grace’s father.
Evan.
