Chapter 3 - The Interrogation and the Lab
The front door burst open as two uniformed officers stepped onto the porch with flashlights drawn. Behind them, an ambulance pulled into the driveway, its siren giving a brief, sharp blare before cutting out.
“Police! Is everyone okay in here?” the lead officer, a stern man with graying hair named Officer Miller, called out as he entered the foyer.
“Upstairs!” I sobbed, collapsing onto the bottom step of the staircase, pinning the red notebook beneath my arm. “My husband... he’s in the bathroom with my daughter! He forced her to drink something! Please, get her out of there!”
Officer Miller nodded to his partner, a younger officer who immediately unholstered her taser and moved swiftly up the stairs. Mark was already halfway down, his hands raised in a gestures of practiced innocence. He had managed to put on a bathrobe, though his hair was still damp.
“Officers, thank God you’re here,” Mark said, his voice dripping with reasonable concern. “My wife is having some sort of severe psychological episode. She’s been under an immense amount of stress lately. She misconstrued a completely normal evening routine.”
“Sir, keep your hands where we can see them,” Officer Miller commanded sternly. “Officer Davis, check the child.”
Officer Davis passed Mark without a word and hurried into the bathroom. A moment later, she called down, her voice tight with urgency. “We need paramedics up here! The child is conscious, but her pupils are dilated, and her skin is clammy. She’s lethargic.”
The words struck me like a physical blow. Lethargic. Dilated pupils. My baby was sick.
“Mark, what did you give her?!” I shrieked, jumping up to claw at his chest, but Officer Miller gently held me back.
“It’s just a supplement!” Mark yelled, his cool facade finally cracking as Officer Miller forced his arms behind his back and clicked handcuffs onto his wrists. “It’s an experimental wellness regimen! It’s not illegal!”
“You’re under arrest for suspected child endangerment, sir,” Officer Miller stated, reading him his rights as he escorted a struggling Mark out the front door into the night air.
Paramedics rushed past us with a small stretcher, but I didn't wait for them to bring her down. I ran up the stairs, pushing into the bathroom. Officer Davis was wrapping Sophie in a warm, dry blanket. My daughter was staring blankly at the wall, her small body shivering violently despite the heat in the room.
“Mommy...” she whimpered, her voice raspy. “My tummy hurts... the salt water tastes bad.”
“I’m here, baby, I’m right here,” I cried, lifting her into my arms and kissing her damp forehead. Her skin was burning hot, yet clammy to the touch.
At the hospital, the emergency room was a whirlwind of motion. Nurses whisked Sophie away behind glass doors to draw blood, administer intravenous fluids, and run a full toxicology panel. I was left sitting in a stark, fluorescent-lit waiting room, holding the heavy red notebook in my lap.
An hour later, a tall woman in a dark suit walked into the waiting room. She held a badge in her hand.
“Mrs. Vance? I’m Detective Sarah Chen with the Special Victims Unit,” she said, her expression serious but sympathetic. “I’ve spoken with the attending physician. Sophie is stable right now. They are flushing her system with IV fluids, but she is going to be okay.”
A massive sob tore from my throat as I buried my face in my hands. The relief was overwhelming.
“What did he do to her, Detective?” I managed to ask after a moment.
Detective Chen sat in the chair next to me and looked down at the red notebook in my hands. “That’s what we need to figure out. The doctors found high concentrations of an unapproved metabolic stimulant and heavy electrolytic salts in her system. It caused severe dehydration and acute chemical imbalance. We found a small makeshift laboratory setup in your basement after executing a search warrant an hour ago.”
I blinked, paralyzed by the word. Laboratory?
“Mark was a senior biochemist at Aethelgard Pharmaceuticals,” I stammered. “He said he worked strictly on agricultural enzymes...”
“He lied,” Detective Chen said quietly. She gestured toward the notebook. “May I see that?”
I handed the book over. Detective Chen opened the thick cover. Page after page was filled with meticulous handwritten entries, dates, precise milligram dosages, heart rate recordings, and long lists of physical symptoms.
The entries dated back nearly nine months.
May you like
Detective Chen flipped to the most recent page, dated earlier that evening. At the top of the page, written in Mark’s clean cursive handwriting, was a title that made my heart stop:
Subject 2: Human Trial – Pediatric Metabolic Acceleration and Bio-Retention Protocol.
