Chapter 2 - The Bottle From Caleb’s Room
“Lock the residence down.”
Mason was already speaking into his radio.
I grabbed my jacket from the chair.
Nora blocked the doorway.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“No.”
“There’s someone inside my son’s nursery.”
“And your son is here.”
“I have people here.”
“He does not need your people.”
“I need to know who did this.”
“Caleb needs his father.”
That stopped me.
Not because of the words.
Because Nora knew exactly where to place the knife.
Three years earlier, she had accused me of treating every human problem like a hostile acquisition.
She had been right.
I hated her for being right then.
I hated her for being right now.
Mason lowered his radio.
“I’ll handle the penthouse.”
I looked at him.
“You tell me the second you know anything.”
“Yes, sir.”
He left.
Nora turned back toward Caleb’s room.
“Come on.”
I followed her.
Caleb was more stable.
Not well.
But stable.
The toxicology team had identified enough of the substance to begin treating the effects while waiting for confirmation.
I did not understand half the medical language.
For once, I did not pretend I did.
I stood beside my son and watched the monitor.
“Nora.”
“Yes?”
“Will he survive?”
“I think we caught it in time.”
“You think?”
“That is the most honest answer I can give you.”
I nodded.
Honesty had become a luxury in my life.
People told powerful men what they wanted to hear.
It was one reason I had loved Nora.
She never had.
“Why are you working nights?” I asked.
She glanced at me.
“Seriously?”
“I’m trying not to lose my mind.”
“Then talk to your son.”
“I have been talking to him for six months. His conversational skills are terrible.”
A tiny smile touched her mouth.
It vanished quickly.
“I cover emergency pediatrics twice a month.”
“You’re still in toxicology?”
“Pediatric emergency medicine and toxicology.”
Of course.
Of all the doctors in Boston, the woman I had once planned to marry had become exactly the specialist Caleb needed.
“You always wanted to fix impossible cases.”
“And you always wanted to own impossible things.”
I looked at her.
“Still angry?”
“I’m treating your child.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
It was a lie.
We both knew it.
Before I could respond, Caleb stirred.
His lips moved.
I leaned over him immediately.
“Hey.”
His eyes did not open.
But his fingers moved against the sheet.
I put my hand beside his.
This time, his tiny fingers curled weakly around my index finger.
I stopped breathing.
Nora watched us.
“He knows you’re there.”
I swallowed hard.
“Good.”
The door opened.
A hospital administrator stepped inside with two detectives.
Of course.
Poisoning meant police.
Detective Samuel Quinn introduced himself.
His partner, Detective Lena Park, stood beside him with a tablet.
I knew Quinn.
Not personally.
But our paths had crossed after one of my companies had been investigated for contract fraud committed by an executive I later fired.
Quinn did not like me then.
He looked no happier now.
“Mr. Cross.”
“Detective.”
“Your security team told us you believe your child may have been intentionally poisoned.”
“My doctor believes someone altered his medication.”
Nora stepped in.
“I said we’re investigating possible tampering. We have not concluded intent.”
Quinn nodded.
“Where is the bottle?”
Hospital staff provided it.
Park examined the evidence bag.
“Who handled this?”
“I did,” I said.
“Anyone else?”
“My house manager may have purchased it. Nursery staff could have handled it.”
“Names.”
I gave them.
“Your child’s mother?”
The question hit harder than it should have.
“She’s dead.”
Quinn’s expression shifted.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You didn’t know.”
“What happened?”
“Car accident. Eight months ago.”
Nora lowered her eyes.
She knew.
Everyone in Boston knew.
Sophie Cross had died two months before Caleb was born.
Caleb had been carried by a surrogate because Sophie and I had started the process after years of failed fertility treatments.
She had chosen everything.
The nursery.
His middle name.
Even the ridiculous stuffed elephant he refused to sleep without.
Then a truck ran a red light on Commonwealth Avenue.
She never met him.
I had been raising our son in a house designed by a woman who never came home.
“Was anyone else supposed to be at the residence tonight?” Park asked.
“No.”
“Any threats against you recently?”
I almost laughed.
“Define recently.”
Nora folded her arms.
Quinn noticed.
“You receive threats regularly?”
“My companies are involved in acquisitions, security contracts, real estate, shipping.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“I have staff for that.”
Quinn’s jaw tightened.
“Your son nearly died, Mr. Cross.”
My eyes moved to him.
The room changed.
Nora stepped between us without making it obvious.
“Detective,” she said, “perhaps we can focus on access to the medication.”
Park spoke first.
“When was the last time you saw the bottle unopened?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“Who opened it?”
“I did tonight.”
“Was the safety seal intact?”
I thought.
The answer should have been easy.
It wasn’t.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t remember?”
“I was carrying a screaming baby with a temperature over one hundred three.”
Nora glanced at me.
“You said earlier you remembered opening it.”
“I remember opening the cap.”
“But not the seal?”
“No.”
A sick feeling spread through me.
What if it had already been open?
What if someone had planned this?
My phone rang.
Mason.
I answered immediately.
“Tell me.”
“We found the intruder.”
“Who?”
“No one.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“The figure on the camera wasn’t a person.”
I stared at him.
“Explain.”
“Someone looped footage onto the live stream.”
“So it was prerecorded.”
“Yes.”
“From when?”
“We’re checking.”
“Who can do that?”
“Anyone with administrator access.”
“Which means?”
“Me. Two senior security engineers. And you.”
Quinn was watching me.
I put the call on speaker.
“Was anything taken?”
“We’re still searching.”
“Medication cabinet?”
“Opened.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Anything missing?”
“One bottle.”
“Which one?”
A pause.
“Caleb’s fever medicine.”
The room went silent.
Park immediately began typing.
“Do not touch anything,” Quinn said toward the phone. “Boston PD units are on the way.”
Mason responded coldly.
“We know how to preserve a scene.”
Quinn looked at me.
“Your security guy always this pleasant?”
“Yes.”
“Must be exhausting.”
“You get used to it.”
Nora ignored us.
“Damian, who knew Caleb was sick tonight?”
“My staff.”
“All of them?”
“No. Evelyn. The night nanny.”
“Name?”
“Rachel Dunn.”
“Anyone else?”
“Mason. Me.”
“Did you call his pediatrician?”
“Yes.”
“What time?”
“About twelve forty-five.”
“Could anyone have overheard?”
“I don’t know.”
My phone buzzed again.
Mason sent a photograph.
It showed Caleb’s medicine cabinet.
One empty space.
Beside it lay something small and metallic.
A key.
Not a house key.
A security access key.
I enlarged the image.
There were initials engraved on one side.
D.C.
Mine.
I looked up.
Quinn saw my face.
“What is it?”
I handed him the phone.
“That key belongs to me.”
“Where was it supposed to be?”
“In my office safe.”
“When did you last see it?”
“Months ago.”
Quinn studied me carefully.
“So someone used your access key.”
“Apparently.”
“Or you did.”
Nora snapped her head toward him.
I almost smiled.
“There he is,” I said.
“Who?”
“The detective I remember.”
“I’m doing my job.”
“So am I.”
“You’re not at work.”
“My son is my job.”
Quinn handed the phone back.
“We’ll verify your whereabouts.”
“Feel free.”
“We will.”
He and Park left.
Nora waited until the door closed.
“Do you really have enemies who would hurt a baby to get to you?”
I looked through the glass at Caleb.
“Yes.”
Her face went pale.
“You say that like it’s normal.”
“For me, it is.”
“That is not an answer you should be comfortable giving.”
“I’m not comfortable with anything happening tonight.”
She looked away.
“You disappeared after Sophie died.”
“I had a newborn coming.”
“You had friends.”
“I had employees.”
“That is exactly what I mean.”
“Nora.”
She faced me.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend you still know me.”
Her eyes softened for one second.
“I knew you better than anyone.”
“Past tense.”
“You made sure of that.”
Before I could answer, Park returned.
She held a clear evidence pouch.
Inside was the key from the nursery.
“We dusted it.”
“And?”
“Prints.”
“Whose?”
“Too early.”
My phone vibrated again.
A message from an unknown number.
No words.
Just a photograph.
Caleb sleeping in his nursery.
Taken from inside the room.
I stared at it.
The timestamp was from yesterday.
Nora leaned closer.
“What is that?”
I showed her.
Another message arrived.
THIS WAS NEVER ABOUT YOU.
Then another.
IT WAS ABOUT THE BOY.
My blood went cold.
A fourth message appeared.
ASK DR. BENNETT WHY.
I slowly raised my eyes toward Nora.
She had gone completely still.
“Nora?”
Her lips parted.
“Damian…”
“You know something.”
She stepped backward.
“Nora.”
The final message arrived before she could answer.
May you like
A photograph of Nora holding Caleb three months before tonight.
I had never known they had met.
