Chapter 2 - Three Months Earlier
Emily went into surgery at 6:17 a.m.
I remained outside with Michael, Judith, two security officers, and enough unanswered questions to fill every empty chair in the surgical waiting room.
Michael tried sitting beside me.
I moved.
“Sarah.”
“Who told you it was her appendix?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“My mother.”
Judith immediately said, “Michael.”
“No.”
He turned on her.
“You wanted me to keep quiet. Look where that got us.”
That sentence frightened me more than his anger ever had.
“What happened three months ago?”
Michael looked toward the operating-room doors.
“Emily got sick while you were visiting your sister.”
I remembered that weekend.
Two nights in Baltimore.
Michael had told me Emily spent Saturday at Judith’s house studying.
“She called me around midnight,” he continued. “Said Emily had stomach pain and was vomiting.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“Mom said it was probably food poisoning.”
Judith crossed her arms.
“It passed.”
“Apparently not.”
Her eyes hardened.
“You weren’t there.”
Neither was Michael.
That was the strange part.
Judith had kept Emily overnight.
By Sunday afternoon, Emily seemed better.
Michael said his mother later told him she suspected “a mild appendix flare.”
I stared at her.
“A retired nurse suspected appendicitis in my child and didn’t take her to a doctor?”
Judith looked toward security.
“It wasn’t that simple.”
“Make it simple.”
She refused.
Then Nurse Kelly approached carrying Emily’s belongings.
“Mrs. Bennett?”
“Yes?”
“We need to ask about medications.”
“Emily doesn’t take anything regularly.”
Kelly looked down at a plastic evidence bag.
“We found several tablets inside an unmarked packet in her hoodie.”
Michael looked at Judith.
Judith looked away.
“What are they?” I asked.
“We’re identifying them.”
I remembered something.
The previous night, Emily had swallowed something before vomiting again.
I assumed it was ibuprofen.
“Where did she get them?”
Nobody answered.
Then I saw Michael’s expression.
“You know.”
He shook his head.
“I know Mom gave her something before.”
Judith snapped:
“For nausea.”
“Three months ago?”
“Yes.”
“What did you give her this week?”
“Nothing.”
Emily’s cracked phone buzzed inside the belongings bag.
Kelly allowed me to look without unlocking it.
A notification appeared.
UNKNOWN NUMBER:
Did you tell them about March?
I showed Kelly.
Security called hospital administration.
Police were contacted.
Michael looked genuinely confused.
Judith didn’t.
“You know that number,” I said.
“No.”
“You recognized something.”
Judith remained silent.
Then another message arrived.
You were supposed to keep her away from hospitals.
This time Michael read it.
He turned toward his mother.
“What the hell is this?”
Judith’s composure finally cracked.
“I was protecting her.”
“From an appendectomy?”
“From what they would find.”
Nobody spoke.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears.
“What would they find?”
Judith looked toward the operating room.
Then she whispered:
“Something in Emily’s medical record that was never supposed to exist.”
Before I could ask another question, Dr. Harris appeared.
I stood so quickly my chair struck the wall.
“Emily?”
“She’s stable. Surgery went well.”
My knees weakened.
“But?”
His expression told me there was one.
“During surgery, we found evidence suggesting the current infection may be only part of what has been happening.”
Michael stepped closer.
“What does that mean?”
“We need pathology before making conclusions.”
Then Harris looked at Judith.
“But somebody appears to have been treating her symptoms before today.”
I thought about the tablets.
“Treating what?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine.”
Judith suddenly sat down.
And for the first time, she didn’t look controlling.
She looked defeated.
Then Michael’s phone rang.
He checked the screen.
His face changed.
“Who is it?” I asked.
He turned the phone toward me.
The caller ID read:
DR. EVELYN CROSS.
I knew that name.
May you like
She had been Emily’s pediatrician.
Until she supposedly died four years ago.
