Chapter 3: What the Backpack Contained
The paramedics arrived in eleven minutes.
Ethan met them at the side entrance and held the door while they wheeled in a gurney.
Elsie was still on the floor, her knees pulled to her chest, her breathing audible now in a way it hadn't been twenty minutes earlier.
"Seven years old," Ethan said quietly.
"Possible sedative ingestion.
Unknown substance, unknown quantity.
The syringe is already bagged."
The lead paramedic, a woman named Carla who had worked Cedar Ridge for nine years, knelt beside Elsie without hesitation.
She checked her pupils, pressed two fingers to her wrist, and looked up at Ethan with an expression that confirmed what he already suspected.
"We need to move her now."
Avery grabbed Ethan's sleeve.
"I'm going with her."
"You are," he said.
"I promise."
Outside, Nolan had stopped knocking.
He stood at the glass with his arms at his sides, watching the paramedics work.
The pink backpack hung from one hand.
His face had gone very still.
Ethan walked to the door.
He didn't unlock it.
"Dr.
Pierce," he said through the glass, "I need you to place that backpack on the ground and step back to your vehicle."
Nolan didn't move.
"That bag has my daughters' personal belongings in it.
You have no right—"
"Place it on the ground."
A long pause.
Then Nolan set the backpack down slowly, the way a man does when he is calculating something rather than complying.
"I want to speak to Dunbar," he said.
"Right now."
"Sheriff Dunbar is aware of the situation."
"Then he'll tell you to open this door."
Ethan looked at the bag on the wet pavement.
"Step back to your vehicle, Dr.
Pierce."
Nolan didn't step back.
He took one step forward instead, close enough that his breath fogged the glass.
"You are making a very serious mistake," he said.
"I am a licensed physician and the legal guardian of those children.
Whatever Avery told you, she is seven years old.
She repeats things she hears.
Her mother has been feeding her stories for months."
"Is that right."
"It is.
And when this is sorted out — and it will be sorted out — I will be filing a formal complaint against you personally."
Ethan held his gaze.
"I'll note that for the record."
He turned away from the glass and walked back to Avery, who was watching the paramedics prepare Elsie for transport.
"Is she going to be okay?" Avery asked.
"The people taking care of her are very good at their job," Ethan said.
"What's your mom's name?"
"Diane.
Diane Bennett.
She kept her name."
"Do you know her phone number?"
Avery recited it without pausing.
Seven digits, no hesitation, the way a child recites something she has been quietly memorizing for exactly this kind of moment.
Ethan stepped behind the counter and dialed.
It rang twice.
"Hello?" The voice was cautious, the way people answer unfamiliar numbers after dark.
"Ms.
Bennett, this is Deputy Ethan Cole with the Cedar Ridge Sheriff's Department.
Your daughters are safe.
I need you to come to the substation on Millard Road."
Silence.
Then: "Both of them?"
"Both of them."
A sound came through the phone that wasn't quite a word.
"Ms.
Bennett — are you able to drive?"
"Yes." Her voice steadied.
"Yes.
I'm coming."
Ethan set the phone down and looked through the glass.
Nolan was still standing in the rain, not at his vehicle, not at the door.
Just standing.
The backpack was at his feet.
Carla appeared at Ethan's elbow.
"We're ready to transport.
The girl is asking for her sister."
Avery was already on her feet.
"She goes with Elsie," Ethan said.
"I'll follow as soon as I've secured the scene."
He pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves, picked up a second evidence bag, and walked to the side entrance.
Through the exterior camera feed on his monitor, he watched Nolan watch him cross the lot toward the backpack.
He crouched.
Unzipped the main compartment.
Inside: a change of clothes, a small stuffed rabbit with one missing eye, a granola bar, and a zippered interior pocket.
He opened the pocket.
The second syringe was there.
Same faded blue markings.
Same clear liquid.
But this one had a small paper label wrapped around the barrel with a rubber band, and on the label, written in a careful hand, were two words and a date.
Ethan read them once.
Then again.
May you like
He sat back on his heels in the rain and looked at the label for a long time.
The date on it was three days from now.
