Chapter 3 - The Secret in the Lounge
"We’re going to have to take you down to the station for a formal statement, Ethan," Detective Vance said, standing up and pulling a pair of handcuffs from his belt. "Given the circumstances and the severity of the baby's condition, we can't let you stay here."
Daniel turned his back, staring at the blank wall, refusing to watch his son be handcuffed.
Panic, cold and sharp, flooded Ethan’s system. If he left now, if they locked him up, no one would ever look at Lauren. Grace would go back home with her, and the next time, the baby wouldn't wake up. He had to make them look. He had to give them something they couldn't ignore.
He closed his eyes, his mind racing back to the events of the evening.
They had been at the hospital because Grace had a mild fever. Lauren had insisted on staying in the private room, while Daniel went to sign admission papers. Ethan had been sitting in the family lounge down the hall, trying to finish his homework.
He remembered seeing Lauren walk past the glass partition of the lounge. She had looked frantic, her eyes darting left and right. She hadn't seen him sitting in the shadows of the corner. She had carrying a small, pre-prepared bottle of formula and a small plastic syringe—the kind used for dispensing infant medicine.
She had stepped into the family lounge's private restroom.
When she came out three minutes later, the syringe was gone, and she was shaking the bottle vigorously.
"Wait," Ethan said, his voice ringing with a sudden, desperate clarity. He leaned across the table, staring directly at Detective Vance. "Before you take me anywhere, you need to do one thing. If you don't do it, and something happens to Grace, it’s on you."
Vance paused, the handcuffs hovering in the air. "What is it, kid?"
"Check the trash can in the family lounge restroom," Ethan said, each word deliberate and sharp. "There's a small plastic syringe in there. And check the bottle of formula that's still sitting on the nightstand in Grace's room. Ask Lauren what she put in it. Ask her why she went into the bathroom with a syringe and came out with a bottle she was trying to hide."
Daniel stiffened, slowly turning around. "Ethan, stop this. You're digging yourself a deeper hole."
"If I'm lying, Dad, then there’s nothing in the trash can," Ethan said, his eyes locking onto his father's. "If I'm lying, the bottle has nothing but formula in it. But if I'm right... if I'm right, she’s been drugging Grace to make her sleep so she doesn't have to deal with the crying. She’s been doing it for weeks."
Detective Vance looked from Ethan to Daniel. He was a seasoned investigator; he had seen guilty people grasp at straws, but he had also seen the desperate, unyielding truth in the eyes of the innocent.
"It takes five minutes to check the lounge," Vance said quietly to Daniel. "I’ll have one of my officers secure the room and the bottle."
He pulled out his radio, muttering instructions to the patrol officer stationed outside the pediatric ward.
Five minutes stretched into ten. Then fifteen.
The silence in the room was suffocating. Daniel stood frozen, his eyes darting to the floor, his breathing shallow. He was a man suspended between two terrifying realities: either his son was a monster, or the woman he loved was one.
Suddenly, the door to the holding room opened. A young patrol officer stood there, holding a clear plastic evidence bag. Inside the bag was a small, transparent syringe with traces of a thick, pink liquid clinging to the inner plastic, and a small, discarded prescription vial with the label partially torn off.
"We found it, Detective," the officer said. "Tucked at the very bottom of the sanitary disposal bin in the lounge restroom. The label on the vial is for pediatric phenobarbital—prescribed to a different name entirely."
Daniel’s face drained of color. He took a step back, his hand reaching out to grip the edge of the table for support.
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"No," he whispered. "No, that’s... she wouldn't."
"Let’s go see what the lab has to say," Detective Vance said, his voice no longer gentle. He pocketed his handcuffs and looked at Ethan with a new, sober respect. "Come on, Ethan. You're coming with us."
