Chapter 3 - The Powder)
Hospital security searched the emergency department.
Wade Keller was nowhere inside.
Rachel gave the identification card to a security supervisor, who photographed it before placing it in an evidence envelope.
"Police are on the way," he said.
"Why would police come?"
"Because a person connected to a child's care appears to have been observing the treatment room and left when noticed."
"Maybe he got scared."
"That's possible."
But Rachel could hear what he was not saying.
It was also possible Wade had run.
Tobe's blood results returned.
Dr. Velez came back with a pediatric infectious disease specialist named Dr. Lena Patel.
Dr. Patel was calm, precise and gentle.
She spoke directly to Rachel without trying to soften facts so much that they became meaningless.
"The ultrasound findings are highly suspicious for intestinal roundworms."
Rachel closed her eyes.
"So there are worms inside him."
"That is our leading diagnosis."
"How many?"
"We can't determine an exact number from ultrasound."
"Is he going to be okay?"
"Right now his vital signs are stable. He has signs of a partial intestinal obstruction, but no evidence at this moment of perforation."
Rachel had no idea what perforation meant until she saw the seriousness in Dr. Patel's expression.
"Would he need surgery?"
"Possibly, if the obstruction becomes complete or if complications develop. But many cases can be managed without surgery."
Rachel looked toward Tobe.
He was watching cartoons without sound on a hospital tablet, though his eyes were barely following the screen.
"How does a child in Chicago get this?"
"Roundworm infection is uncommon here, but not impossible. Eggs are acquired through contaminated soil or food."
"The powder?"
"We need to test it."
"I don't have any."
Tobe turned his head.
"I do."
Rachel stared at him.
"What?"
"In my backpack."
His backpack.
She had left it in the car.
Rachel almost laughed from relief and fear at the same time.
"Where in your backpack?"
"The dinosaur pocket."
Twenty minutes later, a Chicago police officer accompanied Rachel to the parking structure.
The night air was freezing.
The city glowed around the hospital in reflections of headlights and wet pavement.
Rachel unlocked her car.
Tobe's backpack sat on the rear seat.
Blue.
Covered in tiny planets.
She opened the front pocket.
Pencils.
A folded drawing.
Two plastic dinosaurs.
Nothing else.
"The dinosaur pocket?" the officer asked.
Rachel suddenly remembered the small hidden zipper inside the side panel.
Tobe called it that because a green dinosaur charm was attached to it.
She opened it.
Inside were three silver packets.
No branding.
No ingredient list.
No instructions.
Only a small crescent moon printed in blue ink.
Rachel's hands began to shake.
The officer stopped her before she touched them.
"Don't handle those."
He put on gloves.
Each packet contained a fine beige powder.
Rachel felt sick.
"They gave this to children?"
"Do you know how often?"
"No."
Back upstairs, Dr. Patel arranged for the packets to be transferred to the hospital laboratory and public health authorities.
Rachel returned to Tobe's room.
He was asleep.
For the first time that night, she allowed herself to sit.
She stared at his face.
She thought about every weekday during the last three months.
Every afternoon when Harbor House had sent cheerful photos to parents.
Children doing homework.
Children painting.
Children growing herbs.
Children holding little cups of smoothies.
Rachel remembered one photograph of Tobe smiling with purple liquid around his mouth.
The caption had said Nutrition Discovery Day.
She had clicked a heart under the photograph.
The thought made her nauseated.
Her phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
Rachel almost ignored it.
Then she saw the first sentence.
DO NOT LET THEM SEND THE POWDER TO PIONEER.
She read the rest.
THE HOSPITAL CAN TEST IT.
THE CITY CAN TEST IT.
DO NOT LET PIONEER TOUCH IT.
Rachel stood.
Another message arrived.
I DID NOT KNOW THE CHILDREN WERE DRINKING IT.
Then another.
I TRIED TO STOP THEM.
Rachel typed with trembling fingers.
Wade?
The reply came immediately.
Yes.
Where are you?
No response.
Rachel called.
The phone rang once.
Then disconnected.
She called again.
Nothing.
A final message appeared.
May you like
CHECK THE GARDEN SOIL.
Then the number went dead.
