Chapter 3 - FIND EMILYMargaret was questioned before midnight.
I wanted answers immediately.
The police did not care what I wanted.
That was another unfamiliar experience.
They separated everyone.
House staff.
Security.
Margaret.
Even me.
Detective Lena Brooks sat across from me in a family consultation room at the hospital with a legal pad resting on one knee.
“Tell me exactly what happened when you came home.”
I did.
Every word.
Including the part where I fired Emily.
Brooks didn’t react.
When I finished, she asked, “Why did you fire her?”
“She was performing duties outside her role.”
“That’s the corporate answer.”
I stared at her.
She waited.
I looked away.
“Because I was angry.”
“Why?”
“I thought she was careless with my son.”
“You didn’t ask why she was bathing him?”
“No.”
“You didn’t examine Zion first?”
“No.”
“You didn’t call the nanny?”
“No.”
Brooks wrote something.
I hated the sound of her pen.
“What are you writing?”
“That you observed behavior you considered inappropriate and terminated the employee.”
“Then why did you ask five questions to make me say the same thing?”
She almost smiled.
“To see whether you understand what happened.”
I didn’t like her.
That probably meant she was good.
When the interview ended, I walked back toward Zion’s room.
Daniel intercepted me.
“We located Emily.”
I stopped.
“Where?”
“Bus terminal downtown.”
“Why?”
“She bought a ticket to Milwaukee.”
My stomach dropped.
“She’s leaving?”
“Apparently.”
“Send a car.”
“Marcus.”
“What?”
“She refused.”
I stared at him.
Daniel continued.
“She told the driver she doesn’t work for you anymore and doesn’t accept instructions from you.”
Under different circumstances, I might have admired that.
Tonight, it terrified me.
“Police?”
“Detective Brooks sent officers, but Emily hasn’t committed a crime.”
“Margaret accused her.”
“With no evidence.”
“Then get Brooks.”
Ten minutes later, Detective Brooks was speaking to Emily by phone.
I stood several feet away.
“No,” Brooks said. “You’re not under arrest.”
A pause.
“I understand.”
Another pause.
Brooks glanced at me.
“Yes. Mr. Whitaker is here.”
Longer pause.
Something about Emily’s answer made Brooks’s eyebrow rise.
“No, I don’t think he’ll interrupt.”
I held out my hand.
Brooks ignored it and activated speakerphone.
Emily’s voice filled the room.
“I’m not coming back to that house.”
My chest tightened.
“You don’t have to,” Brooks said. “But a baby is in the hospital.”
Silence.
Then Emily’s voice changed immediately.
“Zion?”
“He’s stable.”
“What happened?”
Brooks looked at me.
I answered.
“He stopped breathing.”
The silence on the other end lasted so long I thought the call had dropped.
Then Emily whispered, “Oh my God.”
“Emily.”
She didn’t answer me.
Brooks spoke.
“The hospital found evidence of medication exposure. We need to ask what you observed today.”
“I knew something was wrong.”
My throat tightened.
“How?”
“When I was cleaning the breakfast room, I heard him crying upstairs.”
Brooks asked, “What kind of crying?”
“A weak cry. Not his normal one.”
“You know his normal cry?”
“I’ve heard it every day for three weeks.”
Of course she had.
Probably more often than I had.
Emily continued.
“Margaret brought him downstairs around noon. He looked flushed. His hair was damp with sweat.”
“Did Margaret say why?”
“She said the nursery was warm.”
“Was it?”
“Yes. Very.”
Daniel made a note.
“How warm?” Brooks asked.
“I don’t know exactly. But the thermostat outside the nursery showed eighty-two.”
My head snapped toward Daniel.
“Why was the nursery eighty-two degrees?”
He was already texting security.
Emily continued.
“I asked Margaret if Zion had a fever. She told me to mind my work.”
“And then?”
“She fed him.”
“What?”
“Formula.”
“Did you see her prepare it?”
“No. The bottle was already made.”
“Did Zion drink it?”
“Some.”
“What happened afterward?”
“He got sleepier.”
Brooks leaned forward.
“Describe sleepier.”
“Not normal baby tired. Heavy.”
Her voice trembled.
“He was trying to keep his eyes open. His head kept dropping.”
My stomach twisted.
“I asked Margaret if we should call his pediatrician.”
“And?”
“She got angry.”
“Why?”
“She said I was trying to undermine her.”
Brooks looked at me.
“What happened when Margaret went outside?”
“I heard Zion crying again.”
Emily paused.
“When I entered the kitchen, he was strapped into his high chair. His cheeks were bright red.”
“Why did you bathe him?”
“I checked his neck.”
Something inside me stopped.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“My mom taught me. Babies can feel cooler on the forehead than they are through the chest or back of the neck.”
“That’s not exact medicine,” Dr. Patel said from the doorway, “but it can alert someone to overheating.”
Emily heard her.
“Is that the doctor?”
“Yes,” Brooks said.
“I didn’t use cold water.”
Emily spoke faster now, almost defensively.
“I know cold water can cause shivering and make things worse. I used lukewarm water. The sink was clean. I put a plastic basin inside so he never touched the sink itself.”
I remembered the scene.
The small white tub.
The folded towel beneath it.
The thermometer beside the faucet.
I hadn’t noticed any of those details when I walked in.
I had only noticed disobedience.
Dr. Patel asked, “Why did you know not to use cold water?”
Silence.
Then Emily said quietly, “I studied nursing.”
I stared at the phone.
“What?”
“I did two years of nursing school.”
“Why are you working as a housemaid?”
Another silence.
“That isn’t relevant.”
“It is to me.”
Emily’s voice hardened.
“It wasn’t relevant when you fired me.”
That landed exactly where she intended.
Brooks looked away.
Daniel suddenly found the ceiling interesting.
I deserved it.
Dr. Patel asked gently, “Did you finish nursing school?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“My mother got sick. I left to take care of her.”
“What kind of unit were you training in?”
“Pediatrics was my last rotation.”
My chest felt hollow.
The person I had treated as ignorant had more hands-on pediatric training than I did.
Emily continued.
“While I was bathing Zion, he became more alert. He started splashing. That’s when Mr. Whitaker came in.”
I closed my eyes.
She had been helping him.
And I stopped her.
“Emily,” I said.
“I need to know something.”
“What?”
“Did you see Margaret give Zion medicine?”
“No.”
My hope collapsed.
“But I saw something else.”
Everyone became still.
“What?” Brooks asked.
“Two days ago, I found an oral syringe under the nursery rocking chair.”
Dr. Patel frowned.
“What kind?”
“Five-milliliter plastic medication syringe.”
“What did you do with it?”
“I washed my hands, put it into a zip bag, and left it in the staff office because I planned to ask Margaret about it when she wasn’t angry.”
Brooks looked at Daniel.
“Where is it?”
Daniel called the estate.
Three minutes later, security found the bag.
It had not been touched.
Brooks asked Emily to remain in Chicago.
She agreed only after being told Zion might need her statement.
Not because of me.
Before the call ended, I spoke.
“Emily.”
Silence.
“I was wrong.”
Daniel glanced at me.
I didn’t care.
“I should have listened.”
Her voice softened slightly.
“Yes.”
No excuse.
No reassurance.
Just yes.
“I’m sorry.”
Another pause.
“I appreciate that.”
I swallowed.
“Will you come to the hospital?”
“Why?”
“Because Zion knows you.”
That surprised even me.
Emily didn’t answer immediately.
Then she said, “I’ll come for Zion.”
Not for you.
The words were unnecessary.
I heard them anyway.
She arrived forty minutes later carrying a worn canvas bag and wearing the same gray sweater she’d worn when I fired her.
There was no makeup on her face.
Her eyes looked red.
When she saw me in the hallway, she stopped.
I stepped toward her.
She stepped back.
I stopped.
Fair.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Where is he?”
I led her to Zion’s room.
The moment she entered, something remarkable happened.
Zion was awake.
Weak.
Confused.
But awake.
Emily moved beside him.
“Hey, little man.”
His eyes found her.
Then his tiny fingers lifted.
She offered one finger.
He grabbed it.
And smiled.
It was small.
Barely there.
But unmistakable.
Something in my chest twisted.
Emily leaned close.
“There you are.”
I stood behind her realizing a painful truth.
My son trusted the woman I had dismissed more than he trusted half the people I paid to protect him.
Dr. Patel entered carrying a chart.
“We have final toxicology.”
I looked at her.
“What did he ingest?”
“Diphenhydramine.”
Emily’s grip tightened around Zion’s hand.
“How much?” I asked.
“Enough to be dangerous.”
My jaw clenched.
“Could one accidental dose do this?”
“Possibly, but there’s something else.”
She handed Brooks the report.
“There are metabolite levels suggesting repeated exposure.”
I stopped breathing.
“Repeated?”
Dr. Patel nodded.
“This may not have been the first time.”
Emily slowly looked at me.
Memories suddenly rearranged themselves.
Zion sleeping through dinners.
Sleeping during flights.
Sleeping through construction outside the house.
Margaret laughing when guests called him “the easiest baby in America.”
I had believed easy meant healthy.
Convenient meant well cared for.
Perfect meant safe.
Brooks closed the folder.
“We need every medical record, every pharmacy receipt, and every hour of recoverable nursery footage.”
Daniel nodded.
Then his phone buzzed.
He read the message twice.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“Our forensic team recovered deleted video from the nursery camera.”
My pulse hammered.
“Show me.”
He hesitated.
“Marcus…”
“Show me.”
Daniel turned the phone.
The timestamp showed 2:13 a.m. six weeks earlier.
Zion was crying in his crib.
Margaret entered.
She picked him up.
For a moment, she rocked him gently.
Then she reached into her pocket.
Pulled out a syringe.
And pushed liquid into my six-month-old son’s mouth.
Emily covered her face.
I couldn’t move.
But the video continued.
After Zion stopped crying, Margaret looked directly into the camera.
And said something we could barely hear.
Daniel increased the volume.
Her whisper filled the room.
“Your father pays me for quiet.”
The video ended.
Nobody spoke.
Because for the first time, I understood that Margaret hadn’t only been drugging my son.
She had been doing it because she believed I wanted exactly what she was giving me.
A silent child.
A convenient child.
May you like
A baby who never interfered with my empire.
And somewhere deep inside me, I was terrified she might have been right.
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