Chapter 2
I stared at the label until the letters blurred.
Claire Whitman.
Not Diane.
Not Ryan.
Not Lily.
Claire.
The dead wife who was apparently still filling prescriptions.
“Ryan,” I whispered. “Why is Claire’s medicine in our house?”
His mouth opened.
No answer came.
Diane tried to step around the officer.
“I need air.”
The officer moved with her.
“You need to stay.”
Lily’s breathing rasped under the oxygen mask.
That sound dragged me back.
I ran to her side.
“Is she going to be okay?”
The paramedic’s face stayed professional, which terrified me more.
“We need to transport her now.”
I climbed into the ambulance with Lily.
Ryan tried to follow.
I put my hand up.
“No.”
“Emily, she’s my daughter.”
“She was your daughter when your mother forced medicine into her mouth.”
His face crumpled.
Diane shouted from the porch, “She is overreacting!”
The ambulance doors closed.
At the hospital, they rushed Lily into a treatment room.
A nurse asked what she had ingested.
I handed over the bottle.
The doctor looked at the label and dose.
His expression hardened.
“This is a sedative. It can depress breathing, especially in a child.”
My knees went weak.
A nurse caught me.
“How often has she had it?” the doctor asked.
“I don’t know.”
The words destroyed me.
I did not know what happened to my own baby when I was at work.
A social worker arrived.
Then police.
Then more questions.
When Lily stabilized, I sat beside her bed holding her little hand.
Her lashes rested on her cheeks.
Too still.
Too pale.
My phone buzzed.
Ryan.
I did not answer.
Then a text appeared.
Please don’t mention Claire to the police.
I stared at it.
Then I showed the detective.
May you like
His face changed.
“Mrs. Carter,” he said, “we need to talk about your husband’s first wife.”
