Chapter 2 - every accident had happened with travis)
Rachel had spent eight years learning how to explain Travis Morgan.
He was not cruel.
He was stressed.
He was not controlling.
He liked things organized.
He was not secretive.
He was private.
He was not cold toward Lucy.
He simply had trouble bonding with a toddler.
Those explanations had become part of the architecture of Rachel’s marriage.
She had built walls out of them.
Rooms.
An entire home.
And now, sitting beside Lucy’s hospital bed, Rachel felt the structure beginning to collapse.
Claire pulled a chair closer.
“I’m going to ask you several questions,” she said. “There are no wrong answers.”
Rachel nodded.
“When was Lucy last completely normal?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“Who was with her last night?”
“Both of us.”
“And this morning?”
“Travis got up before me.”
Claire wrote something.
Rachel watched the pen.
“He said he gave her orange juice.”
Claire looked up.
“Did you see him make it?”
“No.”
“Did Lucy need medication this morning?”
“No.”
Claire’s face remained neutral, but Rachel sensed the importance of the answer.
“What are you testing for?”
“The physician ordered a broad toxicology panel along with routine blood work.”
Rachel stared at her.
“Toxicology?”
“It’s precautionary.”
“Do you think she swallowed something?”
“We don’t know.”
Rachel suddenly remembered a night three months earlier.
Lucy had woken screaming at two in the morning.
She had been sweating, confused, and unable to stand properly.
Travis said she had probably caught a virus.
By morning she seemed better.
Another incident followed several weeks later.
Lucy became unusually sleepy after Travis took her grocery shopping.
Then there had been the day she threw up for hours after Rachel attended a dentist appointment.
All three times Travis had been alone with her first.
Rachel gripped the edge of the chair.
“I should have noticed.”
Claire stopped writing.
“Noticed what?”
Rachel listed the incidents.
Claire listened.
She did not tell Rachel she was imagining things.
She did not tell her toddlers became sick.
Instead she asked, “Did Travis ever discourage you from seeking medical care?”
Rachel almost laughed.
The sound that came out was closer to a sob.
“Every time.”
Claire’s pen stopped.
Dr. Reed entered before she could respond.
He was in his forties, with tired eyes and a calm voice.
“Lucy’s oxygen is improving.”
Rachel stood.
“Is she going to be okay?”
“We’re optimistic, but we’re keeping her under close observation.”
“What happened to her?”
“We’re still waiting on some results.”
Rachel searched his face.
“You’re not telling me something.”
Dr. Reed exchanged a glance with Claire.
“We found something concerning in the initial blood work.”
Rachel felt cold.
“What?”
“A sedating medication that was not prescribed to Lucy.”
Rachel heard the words but could not immediately understand them.
“What kind of medication?”
“A medication generally prescribed to adults.”
Rachel’s hand flew to her mouth.
“She couldn’t get into our medicine cabinet.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes. It’s high up. It has a child lock.”
“Who knows how to open it?”
Rachel stared at him.
“My husband and me.”
Claire quietly asked, “What medications does Travis take?”
Rachel shook her head.
“None.”
Then she remembered.
Last winter, Travis had injured his back at work.
He had been prescribed pills.
He told Rachel he stopped taking them months ago.
She could still see the small amber bottle on the bathroom shelf.
“I need to check something.”
Rachel called her neighbor, Denise, who had a spare key.
“Can you go into our house?”
Denise immediately heard the fear in her voice.
“What happened?”
“Lucy’s in the hospital. I need you to look in the upstairs bathroom cabinet. There should be an old prescription bottle with Travis’s name.”
Ten minutes later Denise called back.
“There’s no bottle.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“Check the trash.”
More waiting.
Then Denise whispered, “Rachel.”
“What?”
“There’s a prescription bottle at the bottom of the kitchen trash.”
Rachel stood.
“What does it say?”
Denise read the name.
It matched the medication Dr. Reed had described.
Rachel looked at the doctor.
“How many pills?”
Denise counted.
“Almost empty.”
Rachel’s knees weakened.
Claire steadied her.
Dr. Reed asked quietly, “Mrs. Morgan, is your husband on his way here?”
Rachel looked toward the entrance.
“I think so.”
Claire’s expression changed for the smallest fraction of a second.
It was not fear yet.
It was concern.
Rachel noticed.
“Why?”
Claire shook her head.
“No reason. We’ll make sure security is nearby if needed.”
Rachel frowned.
“Why would security be needed?”
Claire did not answer directly.
Instead she said, “For now, stay with Lucy.”
Twenty minutes later Travis sent another message.
Almost there.
Rachel stared at it.
She wanted to confront him immediately.
She wanted to demand to know why his medication was in their daughter’s blood.
But something stopped her.
An instinct she had ignored too many times.
For once, Rachel did not tell Travis what she knew.
She put the phone face down.
Lucy stirred.
“Mama.”
Rachel leaned over her.
“I’m right here.”
Lucy’s eyes opened.
She looked toward the doorway.
Then her tiny body tightened.
Rachel turned.
No one was there.
“What is it?”
Lucy whispered a word.
Rachel bent closer.
“Say it again.”
“No Daddy juice.”
Rachel stopped breathing.
Lucy’s eyes closed again.
No Daddy juice.
Rachel felt every old explanation in her marriage turn to ash.
Then footsteps approached.
Travis appeared in the doorway.
Phone in one hand.
Expression irritated.
May you like
And behind Rachel, Claire Dawson turned to see him.
The clipboard slipped from her fingers.
