Chapter 2 - The Terrible Truth Behind the Kitchen Sink|
"Mr. Whitaker, I need you to listen very carefully."
Dr. Rebecca Collins stood in front of me, her expression so serious that the relief I had felt moments earlier disappeared.
"Your son wasn't injured by the bath."
I stared at her.
"What?"
"The water didn't cause his breathing to stop, and we haven't found evidence that the housemaid harmed him."
My mouth went dry.
"Then what happened?"
She glanced toward the emergency room before answering.
"We believe your son was exposed to a powerful prescription pain medication."
For several seconds, I couldn't understand the words.
"That's impossible."
"I wish it were."
"He's eight months old."
"I know."
"He doesn't take pain medication."
"That's precisely why we're concerned."
She folded her hands.
"When Zion arrived, his breathing was dangerously slow, and his pupils were unusually small."
"We treated him immediately, and he responded to medication used for suspected opioid exposure."
I stared at her, feeling the hospital corridor tilt beneath my feet.
"Opioids?"
"Yes."
"But how?"
Dr. Collins hesitated.
"We found a rectangular adhesive mark on his upper back."
My heart began pounding.
"What kind of mark?"
"The kind that can be left by a medicated skin patch."
I remembered holding Zion in the kitchen.
His little fingers had been wrapped around my shirt.
His cheeks had been warm.
He had smelled like baby soap.
And Emily had been standing beside the sink, trying desperately to explain something.
"Oh, God."
The doctor watched me carefully.
"Mr. Whitaker?"
"There was something she wanted to tell me."
"Who?"
"Emily."
"The woman who bathed him?"
I nodded.
"She said there was something else I needed to know about my son."
"What did she say?"
I swallowed.
"I didn't let her finish."
The words sounded unbearable when spoken aloud.
Dr. Collins remained silent for a moment.
Then she asked another question.
"Did the housemaid mention removing anything from his clothing or skin?"
"No."
"Are you certain?"
I closed my eyes.
I could hear Emily's voice again.
He was uncomfortable.
I only wanted to help.
There was something else I wanted to tell you.
"I fired her before she could explain."
The doctor's expression softened, but she didn't offer me the comfort I desperately wanted.
"Mr. Whitaker, if Emily found something harmful on your son's skin and removed it, she may have reduced his exposure."
"Are you saying she saved his life?"
"I'm saying we need to speak with her before drawing conclusions."
She continued.
"With certain medications, serious effects can continue even after the source has been removed."
"Zion will need close observation, and the toxicology results are still pending."
I looked through the glass doors toward the room where my son lay surrounded by machines.
My beautiful little boy.
The child I had promised my dying wife I would protect.
And I had almost lost him.
"Can I see him?"
"In a moment."
The doctor touched my arm.
"First, I need to know who normally takes care of him."
"Margaret Dunn."
"How long has she worked for you?"
"Almost two years."
"And you trust her?"
The answer came automatically.
"Completely."
Then I stopped.
Dr. Collins noticed.
"Mr. Whitaker?"
I thought about Margaret.
She had been there when Hannah was pregnant.
She had held Zion when he was only hours old.
She had helped me through the worst months after my wife's death.
She knew everything about my house.
My schedule.
My security arrangements.
My son's routine.
She knew when he slept, when he cried, and when I was too exhausted to notice the difference.
"Mr. Whitaker, does anyone in your household use prescription pain patches?"
I shook my head.
"Not that I know of."
"Has anyone recently brought medication into the nursery?"
"I don't know."
It was the first time in years that I had admitted those three words.
And suddenly, they terrified me.
I didn't know what happened in my own home.
I didn't know why my son sometimes cried until his tiny face turned red.
I didn't know why Margaret insisted that nobody disturb Zion during his afternoon naps.
And I had never bothered to ask.
I had simply written another check.
Dr. Collins took a breath.
"Because your son is so young, the hospital is required to report this suspected exposure to the appropriate authorities."
"Of course."
"We'll cooperate with the investigation, but I want you to understand something."
I looked at her.
"Your son's safety matters more than anyone's reputation."
I nodded slowly.
Then I asked the question that had been burning through me.
"Can I speak to the woman I fired?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing."
I pulled out my phone and called my estate manager.
"Find Emily Carter."
"Sir?"
"Now."
"Mr. Whitaker, she left the property nearly an hour ago."
"Then find out where she went."
There was hesitation on the other end.
"Sir, Margaret said Emily was dismissed for endangering Master Zion."
My blood turned cold.
"Margaret said what?"
"She told the staff Emily had behaved irresponsibly around the baby."
I looked at the doctor.
A horrifying possibility began taking shape.
"Where is Margaret right now?"
"She's at the house, sir."
"Tell her she isn't to leave."
"Is something wrong?"
I stared through the glass at my sleeping son.
"Something is very wrong."
Then Dr. Collins's phone vibrated.
She checked the message, and her expression changed.
"What is it?" I demanded.
She looked back at me.
"Mr. Whitaker, a young woman has just arrived at the emergency department."
"She says she was dismissed from your home this afternoon."
My breath caught.
"Emily?"
The doctor nodded.
"She brought something with her."
"What?"
Dr. Collins held my gaze.
May you like
"A small adhesive patch wrapped in a paper towel."
"And she says she found it attached to your baby's back."
