Chapter 2 - The Toxicology Report
Dr. Harrison, the senior pediatric toxicologist on duty, called us into his private consultation office twenty minutes later. The room was cramped, smelling of sanitizer and stale coffee, dominated by a large computer screen displaying a series of jagged toxicology charts.
"The children are stable, but just barely," Dr. Harrison said without preamble, his eyes shifting between Emily, Nathan, and me. "If you had waited another thirty minutes to bring them in, or if they had consumed the entire box instead of splitting two of the pieces, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Emily let out a muffled sob, burying her face in Nathan's shoulder. But Nathan didn't hug her back. He stood rigid, staring fixedly at the linoleum floor, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked violently near his cheek.
"What kind of poison was it?" I asked, my voice barely audible over the hum of the desk ventilator.
"Brodifacoum," Dr. Harrison replied, tapping a key on his keyboard. "It’s a potent anticoagulant used in commercial rodenticides. It disrupts the blood's clotting mechanism, leading to internal hemorrhaging. It’s odorless, nearly tasteless when masked by high-cacao dark chocolate, and requires a high enough concentration that whoever prepared those chocolates knew precisely what they were doing."
My stomach churned. I leaned back against the wall, my mind racing backward across the last twenty-four hours.
The sapphire-blue velvet box. The cream ribbon. The handwritten card written in smooth, practiced cursive: To the best mother in the world, with all my love, Nathan.
I looked across the desk at my son.
"Nathan," I said, my voice dropping into a cold, steady register that cut through the silence of the room. "You didn't buy those chocolates at a boutique, did you?"
Emily stiffened, pulling away from Nathan’s shoulder. She turned her tear-streaked face toward him. "What is she talking about? Nathan, you said you ordered them online from Manhattan!"
Nathan didn't answer immediately. He slowly lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine. There was no warmth in them anymore. No filial devotion. Just the hunted, desperate look of a trapped animal.
"I have to make a call," Nathan muttered, turning toward the door.
"If you walk out of this hospital room, Nathan, I will call the police myself," I said, the words falling like iron weights onto the floor.
May you like
Dr. Harrison cleared his throat awkwardly, picking up his clipboard. "I’ll... leave you family members to discuss this. But I must inform you that hospital protocol mandates reporting suspected poisonings to local law enforcement. Detectives are already downstairs taking statements."
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