Chapter 2 - The Woman at the Hospital
Elena stared at the phone until Dr. Avery repeated himself.
“Natalie Price was seen entering Sofia’s pediatric wing at 8:43 Sunday night.”
Marisol pulled the car to the curb.
“What do you mean entering?” Elena asked.
“We reviewed security footage after discovering an irregularity in Sofia’s toxicology results.”
Elena looked down at the urn.
“What irregularity?”
“There was a sedative in her blood.”
Elena’s breath disappeared.
Marisol turned toward her.
“What sedative?”
“Midazolam.”
Elena knew the name.
The ICU had used it later.
But Dr. Avery’s voice told her that was not what he meant.
“The level we found in Sofia’s first blood sample was taken before our team administered any sedatives.”
Elena’s hand began shaking.
“She was given something before she arrived?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine.”
“No.”
“Elena—”
“No. She had a fever.”
“Yes.”
“She was sick.”
“She was.”
“Then why are you talking about poison?”
“It isn’t necessarily poison.”
“Then what is it?”
Dr. Avery paused.
“A medication that should not have been in her system.”
Marisol whispered, “Oh my God.”
Elena’s mind raced backward.
Sunday afternoon.
Sofia had been tired.
She complained that her neck hurt.
By six, her fever had risen.
At seven, Elena gave her children’s acetaminophen.
At eight, Sofia vomited.
At 8:16, Elena called the pediatric nurse line.
At 8:30, Sofia had been lying on the couch.
At 8:43—
Elena froze.
Someone had knocked.
She remembered now.
The building intercom had buzzed while she was in the bathroom getting a cool cloth.
She had returned to find Sofia holding a small pink gift bag.
“What’s that, baby?”
“Daddy’s friend brought it.”
Elena had been too frightened by Sofia’s fever to ask more.
There had been a stuffed rabbit inside.
And candy.
Her stomach turned.
“The bunny.”
“What?” Marisol asked.
“There was a stuffed bunny.”
Dr. Avery’s voice sharpened.
“When?”
“That night.”
“Do you still have it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Elena, do not return home alone. I’m contacting police.”
Her hands went numb.
“Why would Natalie come to my house?”
Dr. Avery did not answer.
Because there was no safe answer.
Thirty minutes later, Elena sat inside a private consultation room at St. Catherine’s with two detectives.
Detective Laura Chen was calm, direct, and careful.
Her partner, Marcus Bell, looked like a man who had spent decades learning not to react too quickly.
They placed still images from security cameras across the table.
Elena saw Natalie immediately.
Blonde hair tucked beneath a cream coat.
Large sunglasses despite the dark.
A black handbag over one shoulder.
Time stamp: 8:43 P.M.
Hospital lobby.
Elena’s heart pounded.
“Why was she there?”
Detective Chen slid another photograph forward.
9:01 P.M.
Natalie standing near the pediatric elevators.
Another.
9:14 P.M.
Natalie leaving.
“She never contacted hospital staff,” Chen said. “She didn’t sign in as a visitor. She appears to have entered behind another family.”
“Did she see Sofia?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Where was Adrian?”
Bell answered.
“According to his credit card records, at the Halcyon.”
Elena closed her eyes.
Natalie had gone from Elena’s apartment to the hospital.
Then returned to Adrian?
The thought was monstrous.
“What are you suggesting?”
“We’re not suggesting anything yet.”
“But you brought me here.”
“We need the full timeline.”
Elena told them everything.
The fever.
The knock at the door.
The gift bag.
The ambulance.
Her calls to Adrian.
Sofia’s seizure in the emergency department.
The frantic doctors.
The ventilator.
The moment the monitors stopped.
When Elena finished, Detective Chen asked one question.
“Do you still have the gift bag?”
“I think so.”
“Where?”
“In the kitchen.”
“Then we need to retrieve it.”
Elena stared at her.
“You think Natalie gave my daughter something.”
“We need evidence before saying that.”
“But you think it.”
Chen’s face remained neutral.
“I think a child died, and there are facts that do not currently make sense.”
Marisol reached for Elena’s hand.
The apartment search took three hours.
Elena waited in the hallway while officers moved through her home.
She could not enter Sofia’s bedroom.
She could barely look toward the door.
Detective Bell eventually emerged carrying a sealed evidence bag.
Inside was the stuffed rabbit.
Elena’s stomach clenched.
“There’s a zipper in the back,” Bell said.
“I didn’t know that.”
“We found an empty plastic vial inside.”
Marisol turned away.
Elena pressed one fist against her mouth.
“What was in it?”
“We’ll test it.”
“Tell me.”
“We don’t know yet.”
Another officer came from the kitchen with the pink gift bag.
There was no card.
Only a silver sticker on the bottom.
N.P.
Natalie Price.
The room blurred.
Elena sat on the hallway floor.
Marisol crouched beside her.
“I left her alone for maybe two minutes.”
“Elena.”
“I went to get a towel.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I let that woman near my baby.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“You didn’t invite her.”
“She came into my home.”
“Because Adrian gave her access.”
Elena looked up.
That was another piece.
Their apartment building required a code after 8:00 p.m.
Natalie could not have entered unless someone gave it to her.
“Adrian knew she came?”
Marisol’s face darkened.
“We don’t know.”
Elena called him.
He answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
“Why?”
“Did you give Natalie our building code?”
Silence.
“Elena.”
“Did you?”
“I gave it to her months ago.”
Her throat tightened.
“Why?”
“She dropped off documents.”
“At our home?”
“A few times.”
“You brought your mistress into my home?”
“No.”
“You gave her access to where our daughter slept.”
“I never thought—”
“You never thought. That seems to be your excuse for everything.”
“What happened?”
“She came here Sunday.”
“What?”
“While Sofia was sick.”
“No.”
“She gave her a stuffed rabbit.”
“Elena, I swear I didn’t know.”
“She went to the hospital afterward.”
Another silence.
Then Adrian whispered, “That doesn’t make sense.”
“You know what doesn’t make sense? Our three-year-old having sedatives in her blood before the hospital gave her any.”
Adrian stopped breathing.
“What did you say?”
“The police are investigating.”
“Elena, where are you?”
“Don’t come here.”
“I need to talk to Natalie.”
“No.”
“I need answers.”
“You stay away from her.”
“You think she hurt Sofia?”
“I don’t know what I think.”
Adrian’s voice cracked.
“Elena, Natalie would never—”
The sentence ended him.
Elena’s grief sharpened into rage.
“You’re defending her.”
“I’m not.”
“You just did.”
“I’m saying—”
“You still don’t understand.”
“Elena—”
“Our daughter is dead, and the woman you chose over us may have been in our home hours before she collapsed.”
She hung up.
That evening, Elena returned to Marisol’s house.
She placed Sofia’s urn on a small table beside the couch.
Marisol lit a candle.
Neither woman spoke for a long time.
At 10:12 p.m., Detective Chen called.
“The vial contained midazolam.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“Was it enough to kill her?”
“No.”
Elena opened her eyes again.
“What?”
“The amount probably wouldn’t have killed Sofia by itself.”
“Then why does it matter?”
“Because in a child with severe meningitis, respiratory suppression could accelerate deterioration.”
The words were clinical.
Their meaning was not.
Natalie might not have caused the infection.
But she might have stolen time.
Minutes.
Hours.
Time doctors might have used to save Sofia.
“What do you need from me?”
“Nothing tonight.”
“What happens next?”
“We’re locating Ms. Price.”
Elena stared toward the candle.
“Do you know where she is?”
Another pause.
“No.”
Adrian called seventeen times that night.
Elena answered none.
At 11:46, a text arrived.
PLEASE BELIEVE ME. I DIDN’T KNOW.
She deleted it.
At midnight, another.
POLICE ARE AT NATALIE’S APARTMENT. SHE’S GONE.
Elena sat upright.
Then a third message came.
THIS ISN’T WHAT YOU THINK.
Before Elena could respond, Detective Chen called again.
“We found something at Natalie’s apartment.”
“What?”
“A folder.”
Elena’s heartbeat quickened.
“Inside were photographs of you.”
Her skin crawled.
“And Sofia.”
Marisol stared at her.
“How many?”
“Dozens.”
Elena could barely speak.
“Why?”
“We don’t know.”
Then Detective Chen added, “There was also a document with Adrian’s signature.”
Elena gripped the phone.
“What document?”
“A life insurance policy.”
Silence filled the room.
“For who?”
Chen took a breath.
“For Sofia.”
Elena stopped breathing.
“The policy was opened four months ago.”
A floorboard creaked in the hallway.
Marisol looked toward the front door.
Then came three slow knocks.
Elena’s phone buzzed with a new message from an unknown number.
DO NOT TRUST YOUR HUSBAND.
May you like
The doorknob turned.
Someone had a key.
