Chapter 8: The Toxicology Report
The results came back at 11:15 p.m.
Dr.
Yemi Adeyemi, the pediatric attending who had assessed Delilah on intake, came to find Terrence and Diane in the family waiting area.
She was a precise woman who chose her words the way surgeons choose instruments — deliberately, with awareness of consequences.
"Delilah's bloodwork shows elevated levels of promethazine," she said.
"It's an antihistamine.
In adult doses, it causes sedation.
In a child her size, repeated doses over time would cause the symptoms Charlotte described — stomach pain, prolonged sleep, difficulty walking, nausea."
"Is it dangerous?" Terrence asked.
"At the levels we found, and given the pattern Charlotte documented — yes.
It's not immediately life-threatening at this dose, but cumulative exposure in a child this small, over four months, causes real harm.
And it's not a medication Delilah should be on.
There is no documented condition that would justify it."
"Can it be prescribed by a physician for a child without a diagnosis?" Diane asked.
"Not appropriately.
No." Dr.
Adeyemi paused.
"I've already contacted the hospital's patient safety officer and the state medical board's after-hours line.
This will be formally reported."
Diane looked at Terrence.
"He prescribed it himself," Terrence said.
"Under his own credential."
"I know," Dr.
Adeyemi said.
"I pulled his prescribing record from the pharmacy network after intake.
This wasn't the first prescription.
There were two earlier ones.
The first was eight months ago."
Eight months.
Charlotte's list only went back four.
"She didn't know about the first ones," Terrence said quietly.
"She was six when it started," Diane said.
Nobody spoke for a moment.
"How is Delilah now?" Terrence asked.
"Resting.
Her grandmother is with her.
Charlotte is asleep in the chair beside the bed." Dr.
Adeyemi looked at her clipboard, then back at Terrence.
"Officer, I want to ask you something directly.
The man in the consultation room — the father — he came to speak with me forty minutes ago.
He told me he was the prescribing physician, that the medication was appropriate, and that any report I filed would be challenged by his legal team.
He mentioned the hospital board twice."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him I had a mandatory reporting obligation and I intended to fulfill it." She met Terrence's eyes.
"Then he said something I want you to know about.
He said, 'Dr.
Adeyemi, you've been at this hospital for three years.
I've been in this county for fourteen.
Think carefully about what you're doing.'"
Terrence felt the same cold he had felt earlier, standing at the front desk with Charlotte's paper in his hand.
"Did he threaten you?" Diane asked.
"He was careful not to," Dr.
Adeyemi said.
"He's very good at being careful." She straightened.
"I filed the report twenty minutes ago.
It's done.
But I thought you should know he's trying."
"He's going to keep trying," Terrence said.
"I know." She looked toward the corridor.
"There's one more thing.
The pharmacy record you brought in — I cross-referenced it with our system.
Delilah has never been a patient at the pharmacy Douglas used.
He filled the prescriptions at a location across town, not the one connected to his practice.
A location where he has no regular patients and would be less likely to be recognized."
Terrence looked at Diane.
"He planned it," Diane said.
"He planned it carefully," Dr.
Adeyemi said.
"For at least eight months."
Down the hall, the consultation room door opened again.
Douglas stepped out.
He had his jacket over his arm now, his phone in his hand.
He looked at the three of them standing together outside the waiting room and something in his expression recalibrated.
He had expected, Terrence thought, to be further along by now.
He had expected the custody order to have been enforced.
He had expected Garrett to have made a call.
He had expected the girls to be in his car.
None of that had happened.
Douglas looked at Terrence for a long moment.
"This isn't over," he said.
"No," Terrence agreed.
"It isn't."
Douglas walked to the elevator.
He pressed the button.
He waited with his back straight and his phone in his hand, and he did not look back.
The elevator opened.
He stepped inside.
The doors closed.
May you like
"He'll have a lawyer here by morning," Diane said.
"So will we," Terrence said.
