Chapter 10 - The Blood Sample
The lab results came back two days later.
Robert’s retained blood sample contained the sedating medication.
At a level higher than therapeutic use.
But not necessarily lethal.
Harris explained it carefully.
Margaret whispered, “He had heart disease.”
“Yes.”
“Could it trigger a heart attack?”
The uncertainty made everything worse.
Laura hired a lawyer.
She stopped answering calls.
My father was ill. My mother is grieving. A shelter employee has inserted herself into a private family tragedy.
That shelter employee was me.
My director called me into his office.
“This is becoming public.”
“I know.”
“You need to step back.”
I hated that.
But he was right.
I was not law enforcement.
I was Charlie’s caretaker.
So I focused on Charlie.
He had lost weight.
His kidneys were stable.
Bloodwork decent for his age.
But grief was wearing him down.
We moved him into my office during the day.
He slept under my desk.
At five every afternoon, he woke.
Walked to the window.
Waited.
For Robert.
Margaret visited daily.
She had stopped packing.
Stopped the house sale.
Stopped returning Laura’s messages.
One afternoon, she whispered:
“Robert and Laura?”
“Robert and Charlie.”
I looked at her.
“You did not know.”
“I knew Robert was worried.”
“That is not the same.”
“I thought he was becoming paranoid.”
Charlie looked up when she said Robert’s name.
Margaret began crying.
I sat beside her.
“People miss things.”
“He died.”
“Yes.”
There was no comforting version.
Then Charlie suddenly jumped from the chair.
He walked to Margaret’s purse.
Pawed at it.
She frowned.
“What?”
He kept pawing.
Inside was Robert’s old flip phone.
Margaret had found it in a desk drawer that morning.
It had been dead for weeks.
We charged it.
There were six unsent draft messages.
Five to Margaret.
One to me.
The message to me read:
Claire, if Charlie ends up with you, check his collar.
May you like
I looked at Charlie.
The old brown collar was around his neck.
