Chapter 1 - Don’t Let Him Take Us Home
My name is Daniel Reed.
I had been a police officer for seventeen years when two seven-year-old girls walked through the front doors of my station without an adult.
It was raining hard enough to blur the parking lot beyond the glass.
The station was small.
Front counter.
Two interview rooms.
A row of plastic chairs.
Fluorescent lights that made everyone look tired.
Incident forms stacked beside a computer.
Evidence envelopes in a locked drawer.
Nothing dramatic.
At 3:46 that afternoon, the automatic door opened.
Two girls stepped inside holding hands.
Twins.
Same light-brown hair.
Same fair faces.
Different expressions.
One was frightened.
The other looked sick.
The sick girl made it four steps.
Then folded over beside the counter.
Her arms wrapped around her stomach.
I came around immediately.
“Hey.”
The other girl stepped between us.
Protective.
Rainwater dripping from her cardigan.
“My name’s Officer Reed. What’s your name?”
“Emma.”
She pointed.
“That’s Olivia.”
Olivia whimpered.
I reached for my radio.
Emma grabbed my sleeve.
“Daddy put something inside my sister’s belly.”
Everything in me changed.
I crouched.
“What do you mean?”
Emma looked over her shoulder at the glass doors.
Then back at me.
“He made her swallow it and said not to tell.”
I called for medical response.
Then:
“Is your dad here?”
Emma shook her head.
“He’s looking.”
“For you?”
She nodded.
Olivia curled tighter.
Emma suddenly sat on the floor.
“What are you doing?”
She pulled off one sneaker.
Peeled back a loose insole.
Then reached underneath it.
An empty plastic oral medicine syringe came out.
No needle.
Small pharmacy markings along the barrel.
Emma held it carefully.
“He used this.”
I did not take it directly.
I opened an evidence envelope and placed it on the counter.
“Put it in here, sweetheart. You did the right thing.”
She dropped it inside.
I sealed it.
Then called dispatch again.
“Expedite EMS. Two juveniles. Possible medication exposure.”
Emma stayed beside Olivia.
I entered the pharmacy identifying code from the syringe into a secure lookup resource available to us through the state poison-control and prescription-response process.
The pharmacy information appeared first.
Then the prescriber.
I stared.
Michael Carter, MD.
Same surname.
The girls’ father.
I read it quietly.
“The prescription was written by… Michael Carter.”
Emma heard.
Her face changed.
Before I could ask another question, headlights swept across the wet parking lot.
A black SUV turned sharply into a space near the entrance.
Emma looked through the glass.
She stopped breathing.
Olivia made a tiny sound.
“No.”
Emma backed toward me.
“That’s him.”
A man got out.
Late thirties.
Maybe forty.
Dark coat.
Moving fast.
Emma grabbed my arm.
“Don’t let him take us home.”
I hit the door-lock control beneath the desk.
The station’s glass entrance doors locked.
I moved both girls behind the front counter.
“Stay here.”
Michael Carter reached the entrance.
Pulled the handle.
Locked.
He looked through the glass.
Saw me.
Then saw his daughters.
His expression changed.
May you like
He yanked harder.
I stood between him and the girls.
