Chapter 13 - Six Weeks Earlier
I remembered that night too well.
Noah had been six weeks old.
He had gone from sleepy to violently sick in less than an hour.
The ER doctor blamed reflux.
Linda had arrived at the hospital before we even called her.
At the time I thought Ryan had told her.
He hadn't.
Dana asked the obvious question.
"How did she enter your house six weeks ago?"
We checked the smart-lock history.
The system stored ninety days.
At 11:43 p.m. that night, the side door had opened using a guest code.
The code belonged to Ryan's father.
Frank had been dead for seven years.
Ryan leaned against the wall.
"Mom knew his code."
We drove Noah to Children's Medical Center for an examination. He was fine now, thank God, but the pediatrician listened carefully when we described the earlier episode.
"Do you have records from that visit?"
I did.
The doctor compared them to Noah's newborn history.
Then she frowned.
"They didn't run a toxicology panel because there was no reason to. But one blood chemistry result was unusual."
"What result?"
"Sodium. High, but not high enough to trigger a crisis. It can happen from dehydration. It can also happen if formula is mixed incorrectly."
My mouth went dry.
Linda had prepared his bottles that evening. I remembered standing at the counter, barely awake, while she waved me away and said she had raised two children and knew how to make a bottle. I remembered Noah coughing after the first few sips. I remembered Linda telling me I was imagining problems because I was an anxious new mother.
Ryan remembered something too.
"She asked me afterward whether the hospital had tested his blood," he said.
The pediatrician looked up. "That is not a normal question after a reflux visit."
"Can you prove anything now?"
"Not medically, six weeks later."
Ryan sat beside me with his head in his hands.
Then the doctor asked, "Do you still have the formula container from that week?"
I almost said no.
Then I remembered.
I saved one empty can in the garage because I used it to store batteries.
May you like
When we got home, the can was gone.
In its place sat the missing cassette.
