Chapter 4: The Interrogation of a Fool
The harsh, fluorescent lights of the emergency room waiting area buzzed with a relentless, mechanical hum. Richard sat in a plastic chair, his head buried in his hands. It had been two hours. Lily had been stabilized, pumped full of antihistamines, steroids, and chelating agents to bind whatever toxins were ravaging her bloodstream. She was sleeping in the pediatric ICU.
Victoria was nowhere to be found. She had claimed she needed to go home to "get Lily’s medical records," but she hadn't answered her phone since.
The automatic doors of the ER hissed open.
Richard looked up. It was the line cook. But she wasn't wearing her stained apron or her non-slip shoes. She was wearing a sleek leather jacket, dark jeans, and a severe, unyielding expression. She held a black coffee in one hand and walked straight toward him.
"How is she?" Sarah asked, sitting in the chair next to him.
"Stable," Richard whispered, his voice ravaged by guilt. "The doctor said... he said her kidneys were functioning at forty percent. If she hadn't gotten that EpiPen... she would have suffocated on the diner floor."
He looked at Sarah, his eyes filled with a desperate, pleading confusion. "Who are you? Why were you working at a diner with an EpiPen in your pocket?"
"My name is Sarah Miller," she said, taking a slow sip of her coffee. "I was an ER charge medic at Chicago General for twelve years. I quit my job eight months ago to track down Victoria. I took the job at the diner because I knew you ate there every Sunday after church. It was the only place Victoria let her guard down."
Richard recoiled as if he had been slapped. "You stalked us?"
"I hunted her," Sarah corrected smoothly. "There's a difference. And it’s a good thing I did, Richard, because you are the most willfully blind man I have ever met in my life."
The accusation hit him like a physical blow. "I love my daughter! I took her to five different specialists! They all said she had a severe psychosomatic eating disorder! Victoria was the only one who could get her to eat!"
"Victoria was the one preparing the food," Sarah countered, her voice sharp and merciless. "Victoria made her the 'special nutritional smoothies.' Victoria insisted on homeschooling her because the school environment was 'too stressful.' Victoria alienated your ex-wife’s parents, claiming they were toxic. She isolated the child, Richard. She put up a wall around your daughter, and she fed her poison while holding her hand."
Richard shook his head frantically, desperately trying to cling to the illusion of his perfect marriage. "No. No, Victoria loves her. She bought her everything. She spent hours researching diets..."
"She spent hours researching lethal dosages!" Sarah snapped, leaning in so close Richard could see the terrifying intensity in her dark eyes. "Stop making excuses for the monster in your bed! Lily told you! She screamed it in the middle of a crowded restaurant. 'She put the powder in it again.' How many times did your daughter tell you her stomach hurt, and you told her to stop complaining? How many times did she beg you not to leave for a business trip, and you told her to be a big girl?"
Richard broke. He bent forward, burying his face in his knees, and began to sob. The ugly, guttural sobs of a man who realized his complacency had nearly cost him his child's life. He remembered the powders. Victoria had claimed they were expensive European probiotics. He remembered holding Lily’s hair back while she vomited violently in the middle of the night, while Victoria stood in the doorway, watching with a cold, detached silence.
"I didn't know," he wept. "I swear to God, I didn't know."
"Ignorance isn't an alibi when you're a father," Sarah said, her tone softening just a fraction, but offering no absolution. "You didn't protect her. But you have a chance to do it now. The police are going to be here in ten minutes. They are going to ask you questions. You are going to tell them everything. The smoothies, the isolation, the powders. You are going to hand them Victoria on a silver platter."
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Richard wiped his face, sitting up. His sorrow was rapidly transmuting into a deep, burning rage. "Where is she? She said she was going home."
Sarah checked her watch. "She didn't go home. She went to her safety deposit box at the downtown bank. But don't worry. I made a phone call on the way here. The police are waiting for her in the parking garage."
