“Didn’t they wrap the vial in anything?” I ask.
“Yes, in some gauzy fabric. And then the note was wrapped around it. But still…”
“The note was wrapped around the gauze? Or around the vial?”
“Around the vial,” she says. “Then gauze around that, and then plastic wrap around the gauze.”
Of course. Because if the baby soiled herself, the note and vial needed to be safe.
My God, who the hell are we dealing with?
Someone who thinks things through, and someone who has no qualms about using innocent children.
In other words, a total psychopath.
“So you found the substance.” Donny makes notes on his phone. “And you didn’t know what it was.”
“Honestly, I didn’t even think about what it could be. I was worried about my baby.”
“We understand that,” I say.
“Do you? Do you really understand? Somehow they got to my baby. She’s six months old!” Ms. Murray darts her gaze around the coffee shop. She spoke too loudly, and now she’s afraid.
“I know this is hard for you,” Donny says, finally reverting to his calming and soothing persona. “Brock and I are both so sorry that these heinous people involved your child.”
This gets to me.
I love my uncle. Truly, I do.
But he’s a sixty-year-old man.
Whoever these people are, they have no problem using an infant.
This just got a whole lot more sinister. Psychopath is too weak of a word.
“All right,” I say. “Please, just tell us the rest. But first of all, is Maria all right?”
Ms. Murray nods and hiccups. “Yes, she’s okay. I couldn’t tell my mother what happened, but I did tell her not to go anywhere and to keep the doors locked at all times.”
“I’m so sorry,” Donny says. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to be afraid for your child in your own home.”
“It’s awful. And I have to work. If I don’t work, I can’t take care of Maria. And my mother.”
“Does your mother live with you?”
Ms. Murray shakes her head. “She has an apartment a couple miles away.”
“And do you live in an apartment or a house?” I ask.
“It’s a small house. It once belonged to my father. He and my mom are divorced. And now he’s…”
“Go on,” Donny says.
“He passed away a few years ago. He would have loved Maria.”
She’s digressing. I’m impatient, but I hold my tongue. This is a frightened mother. If we force her to go more quickly, she may run.
Luckily, she starts speaking again. “I didn’t know what to do. They already got to my baby somehow. I don’t know how they got past Mom. But they did. So I did the only thing I could do. I put the contents of the vial in Mr. Steel’s food, and then I called them back and said it was done.”
“Do you still have the number?” I ask.
She pushes a piece of paper toward me. “This is it.”
“And have they contacted you again?” From Donny.
She shakes her head. “You’re not going to have me arrested, are you?”
“No, we’re not going to have you arrested,” Donny says. “But we are going to need your cooperation.”
“There’s nothing more I can do. I never saw the guy.”
“Would you recognize the voice if you heard it again?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I might.”
“We may ask you to listen to some voices,” I say. “Also, we’re going to have to take a look at your house.”
Ms. Murray drops her jaw open.
“You want to be safe, don’t you?” Donny says. “These people got into your home somehow, got something into your baby’s diaper. An innocent child who can’t recognize them out of a lineup. Who can’t even say what happened to her.”
Ms. Murray gasps. “Oh my God. You don’t think they did anything…to her.”
“No,” Donny says quickly.
I force my expression to remain stoic. How can Donny say that after what happened to him in his childhood? But I get it. He doesn’t know for sure, but he doesn’t want to alarm the mother any more than she already is.
“But it might be a good idea to have Maria looked at by a pediatrician,” Donny continues.
Ms. Murray gasps again.
“There’s no need to be alarmed,” I say. “But it’s always good to be sure. If Maria seems fine to you, if you didn’t notice any marks on her, they probably didn’t do anything other than change her diaper and put the substance inside.”
Ms. Murray nods and sniffles, and then she grabs a tissue out of her handbag and unceremoniously blows her nose. Tears well in her eyes. To be honest, I’m surprised she made it this far without sobbing.
“Listen, Ms. Murray—Janine,” Donny says. “I am going to find out who did this. I am going to find out who tried to poison my father. I have unlimited resources and a brother who’s stronger and meaner than I am. We will not let this lie. We will find out who’s behind this, and we will make sure they pay. Especially someone so horrible that they would use an innocent six-month-old baby.”
Ms. Murray nods, hiccupping again.
“Here’s something I don’t get,” I say, thinking out loud. “You work in a hospital. You have access to all the drugs. Why would they put drugs in your baby’s diaper? Why wouldn’t they just force you to get the drugs yourself at the hospital and then poison the patient?”
Donny’s eyes widen.
“What?” I ask him.
“Ms. Murray,” Donny says. “Do you know if atropine is used for any veterinary purpose?”
“For animals?” She shakes her head. “I’m not sure. Probably.”
I grab my phone and do a quick search. “Says here that it’s used for pupil dilation in dogs. Also as a preanesthetic to reduce salivation.”
“Damn,” Donny says, raking his fingers through his hair.
“Why does this matter?”
“Because…I think I may know who’s behind this. Or who’s at least a person of interest.”
“Who?” I demand.
“Let’s just say that things are converging.”
I nod. In other words, he’ll talk to me about it later.
Ms. Murray starts talking then. “I don’t know how I could’ve forgotten this. We learned about all the drugs in nursing school, and even about how they’re used in nonhumans. You’re right. Atropine is sometimes used as a preanesthetic for dogs to keep them from salivating. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because you were concerned about your baby,” Donny says, again using his comforting tone. “But you’re confirming that a veterinarian would probably have atropine. Or easy access to it.”
“I can’t say for sure. I mean, I’ve never worked with a veterinarian. I have a cat. I go to a veterinarian.”
Now she’s rambling. “Don,” I say, “we need to talk.”
He nods. “We do. Did you want to ask Ms. Murray anything else?”
I stand. “Not right now.”