Chapter 5
Patricia stopped in the middle of the hallway.
No one moved.
One officer looked at Michael.
“Is that Patricia Turner?”
Michael swallowed.
“Yes.”
Patricia immediately recovered.
“What is going on?”
She walked toward us.
“Michael, Rebecca has lost her mind. She broke into my private cabinet and stole photographs of my personal medication.”
The officer stepped between us.
“Ma’am, could I speak with you?”
Patricia stared at his badge.
“Why?”
“We’re investigating a possible medication exposure involving an infant.”
Her eyes flicked toward me.
There it was.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
“So she accused me.”
“I didn’t say who made an accusation,” the officer replied.
Patricia’s lips tightened.
“I know how Sarah operates.”
My hands curled into fists.
Michael said, “Mom, stop.”
She looked at him.
“Excuse me?”
“You need to answer their questions.”
Patricia looked stunned.
“You believe this?”
“We saw the notebook.”
Color vanished from her face.
Then returned.
“You saw photographs Rebecca took out of context.”
“What context makes it okay?” I demanded.
The officer held up a hand.
“Mrs. Turner, please.”
Patricia ignored him.
She stepped toward me.
“You have wanted me out of Noah’s life since the day he was born.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I wanted you to respect me as his mother.”
“You didn’t know what you were doing!”
“And you thought putting calming drops in him would fix that?”
Michael whispered, “Sarah.”
But I couldn’t stop.
“How many times?”
Patricia stared at me.
“How many times did you drug my baby?”
“I never drugged anyone.”
“The notebook says—”
“The notebook says nothing about Noah.”
My heart stopped.
Michael frowned.
“What?”
Patricia folded her arms.
“You’re assuming.”
Michael took out his phone.
“August nineteenth. ‘Three drops. Sarah almost came in.’ Who else would that be about?”
Patricia’s expression changed again.
She knew she was trapped.
Then she did what she always did.
She attacked.
“Do you really want to have this conversation in front of police?”
“Yes,” Michael said.
Her eyebrows rose.
“Fine.”
She looked at the officer.
“My daughter-in-law was overwhelmed. The baby screamed constantly. She barely slept. I was trying to help.”
My stomach turned.
The officer asked, “Did you give the infant any substance without his parents’ permission?”
“It was an herbal preparation.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Patricia glanced at Michael.
“I used a tiny amount.”
Michael went completely still.
I heard myself make a sound.
Not a word.
Just pain.
Patricia rushed on.
“My pediatrician used similar things when you were babies.”
“Thirty years ago?” Michael asked.
“It was harmless.”
“Our son is in the hospital!”
“I didn’t hurt him!”
“You don’t know that!”
“He was fine.”
“He had a seizure in my arms!”
Patricia’s face crumpled.
For one second, she looked truly devastated.
Then she whispered, “That wasn’t because of me.”
“You don’t know.”
“I know.”
“How?”
She hesitated.
Michael saw it.
“What do you mean, you know?”
“Because he was doing strange things before I ever gave him anything.”
My head snapped toward her.
“What?”
Patricia looked at me.
“Don’t act surprised.”
“When?”
“I noticed it weeks ago.”
“You noticed Noah stiffening?”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing?”
“I thought it was normal.”
“You thought it was normal, but you started giving him drops?”
“I thought he was overtired.”
The officer interrupted.
“Patricia, I need you to come speak with us privately.”
She pulled back.
“Am I under arrest?”
“Not at this time.”
“I’m not going anywhere without an attorney.”
“That is your right.”
Patricia looked at Michael.
“Come home.”
He stared at her.
“What?”
“You’re upset. Sarah has turned this into something it isn’t.”
I almost laughed from disbelief.
Michael didn’t.
“Mom.”
His voice was low.
“You gave my son something behind our backs.”
“I helped him sleep.”
“You lied.”
“I didn’t lie.”
“You hid it.”
“Because Sarah panics about everything.”
“You wrote down when she almost caught you!”
Patricia flinched.
Michael’s eyes filled with tears.
“You knew it was wrong.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I knew she would overreact.”
“You knew.”
Patricia’s face hardened.
“You’re going to throw away your mother because your wife is emotional?”
Michael stared at her for several seconds.
Then he said the words I never expected.
“My wife is not the problem here.”
Patricia looked like she had been struck.
I did too.
Michael continued.
“She told me for months that you crossed boundaries.”
“Michael—”
“I defended you.”
“I am your mother.”
“And I kept using that as an excuse.”
She shook her head.
“You don’t mean this.”
“I do.”
“No, you’re scared.”
“I am scared.”
He pointed toward Noah’s room.
“My five-month-old son is in there because somebody gave him a substance we didn’t know about.”
“You cannot prove—”
“You just admitted it!”
Patricia’s mouth closed.
The officer asked her to move to a consultation room.
This time, she went.
As soon as she disappeared, Michael sat down.
He put his face in his hands.
I stood there.
Part of me wanted to comfort him.
Another part was furious that it had taken a hospitalization for him to see what I had been saying.
Both feelings could exist at once.
So I sat beside him without touching him.
After a minute, he whispered, “You were right.”
“I didn’t want to be.”
“I should’ve believed you.”
“Yes.”
He looked at me.
I wasn’t going to soften it for him.
Not now.
“You should have.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
Rebecca arrived soon after.
Her eyes were red.
She hugged me before she hugged Michael.
“I’m so sorry.”
“You didn’t do this.”
“I knew what Mom could be like.”
“So did Michael.”
He flinched.
Rebecca looked at him.
“I should’ve told you about Dad.”
“Yeah.”
“I was scared.”
“So was Sarah.”
Rebecca glanced at me.
Michael continued.
“Everyone was scared of Mom except me.”
“No,” Rebecca said quietly. “You were scared too. You just learned to call it loyalty.”
That landed hard.
Michael stared at her.
Rebecca sat beside him.
“Mom punished anyone who challenged her.”
“I remember arguments.”
“You remember what she let you remember.”
Michael looked sick.
Rebecca pulled out her phone.
“I got seventeen pictures of the notebook.”
She handed it to me.
The entries were worse than I expected.
August 4.
Very fussy. Half drop.
August 7.
One drop after Sarah went to shower.
August 8.
Two drops. Slept two hours.
August 10.
Three drops. Too fussy afterward.
August 12.
Two drops. Good nap.
August 15.
Two drops before nap.
August 19.
Three drops. Sarah almost came in.
August 23.
One drop only.
August 25.
Skipped. Sarah home all day.
August 28.
Two drops. Michael off work.
My skin crawled.
“She planned around us.”
Michael whispered, “Jesus Christ.”
Rebecca swiped to another page.
“There’s more.”
Below the dates were notes.
He needs routine.
Sarah makes him nervous.
M will understand when he sees improvement.
I stared at the last line.
M.
Michael.
“She thought you’d eventually agree with her.”
Michael looked away.
Rebecca continued scrolling.
Then she stopped.
“What?”
I leaned closer.
There were older pages.
Different dates.
Decades earlier.
Notes with an initial.
D.
Two tablets.
D slept until noon.
Reduced to one.
D suspicious.
Michael took the phone.
His hand shook.
“Dad.”
Rebecca nodded.
“I think so.”
Michael looked at us.
“This notebook is older than we are.”
Rebecca whispered, “Mom keeps everything.”
An officer returned.
He asked Rebecca to send the photographs directly to investigators.
Then he said police were requesting a search warrant for Patricia’s home based on her admission, the photographs, and the medical findings.
Michael looked toward the consultation room.
“Is she being arrested?”
“Not currently.”
“Why not?”
“The investigation is ongoing.”
I hated how badly I wanted immediate consequences.
But I understood.
They needed facts.
Evidence.
Medical confirmation.
Statements.
A case built on more than our anger.
Later that night, Noah was connected to an EEG monitor.
Michael and I sat beside him.
Neither of us slept.
At 2:13 a.m., Dr. Collins entered.
She looked exhausted but calm.
“I have some preliminary good news.”
I stood.
“What?”
“We haven’t seen additional seizure activity during monitoring.”
My knees nearly gave out.
Michael grabbed my hand.
“Does that mean he’s okay?”
“It means we have reason to be hopeful.”
“And the substance?”
“Confirmatory testing is consistent with diphenhydramine.”
I stared at her.
I knew the name.
An antihistamine.
A medicine people used for allergies.
Sometimes for sleep.
Michael whispered, “Was that in the herbal bottle?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“But you found it in Noah?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Not a lethal amount based on what we can estimate. But it should not have been administered to an infant without medical direction.”
I began crying.
Quietly.
I couldn’t help it.
Dr. Collins continued.
“It may explain at least some of what you’ve been seeing.”
“Will he have permanent damage?”
“We have no evidence of that right now.”
I covered my face.
Michael wrapped both arms around me.
For the first time in weeks, I let him.
Not because everything between us was fixed.
It wasn’t.
But because our baby might be okay.
At sunrise, my phone rang.
Emily.
My sister.
I stepped into the hallway.
“Sarah?”
“Hey.”
“Are you okay?”
“Noah’s stable.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“We need to stay with you when he’s discharged.”
“Of course.”
“Michael too.”
There was a pause.
Emily had never liked how Michael handled Patricia.
But she said, “Okay.”
I closed my eyes.
“Thank you.”
“Whatever you need.”
After the call, I returned to Noah’s room.
Michael was staring at his phone.
“What?”
He looked up.
“The police searched Mom’s house.”
My stomach tightened.
“And?”
“They found the bottle.”
I exhaled.
“But that’s not all.”
Something in his face scared me.
“What else?”
Michael swallowed.
“They found a locked box in her bedroom.”
“What was inside?”
He stared at me.
“Medical records.”
“Whose?”
“Mine. Rebecca’s. Dad’s.”
May you like
He paused.
“And one with your name on it.”
