Chapter 2: The Woman in the Pharmacy Footage
Leo's eyes opened just before midnight.
Not all the way.
Just enough for me to see a sliver of hazel beneath swollen, exhausted lids.
“Mom?””
I grabbed his hand.
“I'm here.””
His fingers curled weakly around mine.
For a moment, I forgot everything else.
The police.
The prescription.
Brenda.
The bottle with my name on it.
None of it mattered compared with the fact that my son was conscious.
“You scared me,” I whispered.
His lips moved.
“Sorry.””
“No.””
I leaned closer.
“This is not your fault.””
His eyes drifted shut again, but this time the monitor beside him continued its steady rhythm.
The nurse adjusted his blanket and checked the oxygen line.
“Let him rest.””
I nodded.
But I couldn't rest.
Not anymore.
Because Detective Harris was waiting outside the room.
And because there was one question I couldn't stop asking myself.
Why would Brenda want my name on a prescription?
I stepped into the hallway.
Detective Harris stood near the vending machines, holding a paper cup of coffee he had clearly forgotten to drink.
“How long have you known about the pharmacy footage?”” I asked.
“About twenty minutes.””
“Can I see it?””
“Not yet.””
“Why?””
“Because we need to preserve the original recording and make sure we're not accidentally identifying someone based only on appearance.””
I stared at him.
“She looks like Brenda.””
“She resembles Brenda.””
“That's a pretty careful way to say it.””
He gave me a tired look.
“I'm careful because people can have cousins, sisters, friends who look similar.””
“She picked up a prescription under my name.””
“Yes.””
“And she's my sister-in-law.””
“Yes.””
“So what exactly are we waiting for?””
He glanced through the glass at Leo.
“Your son being alive doesn't mean the investigation gets simpler.””
“What does that mean?””
“It means the person who gave him that medication may have intended something more complicated than making him sleep.””
My stomach tightened.
“What more complicated thing?””
“We don't know.””
“Then tell me what you do know.””
He looked down at the folder.
“The prescription was generated electronically at 3:12 p.m. Wednesday.””
I frowned.
“Wednesday?””
“Yes.””
“That's three days before today.””
“I know.””
“Where was I Wednesday?””
“At work?””
“I was at work all day.””
“We're verifying that.””
I felt a flash of anger.
“Why?””
“Because your identity was used.””
“And that automatically makes me suspicious?””
“No. It makes you important to the case.””
He opened another document.
“The prescription was for a sedating medication.””
I nodded.
“He said it was something to help him sleep.””
“She?””
I looked at him.
“Brenda.””
“I know.””
He turned another page.
“The pharmacy record says the prescription was picked up at 5:46 p.m. Wednesday.””
“By Brenda.””
“According to the camera footage, yes.””
“Then we know who did it.””
“We know who appears to have picked it up.””
I stared at him.
“You keep saying appears.””
“Because there's something unusual.””
He handed me a printed still image.
The photograph was grainy, taken from above.
A woman stood at a pharmacy counter wearing a gray baseball cap, oversized sunglasses, and a black jacket.
But I recognized her immediately.
The small silver chain around her neck.
The bracelet on her left wrist.
The ring she always wore on her right hand.
Brenda.
“That’s her.””
Harris nodded.
“Probably.””
I looked closer.
Something about the image bothered me.
“Wait.””
“What?””
“Zoom in.””
He looked at the photo.
“On what?””
“The hand.””
I pointed at the wrist.
“There.””
He leaned closer.
The bracelet had a tiny heart-shaped charm.
I had given it to Brenda two Christmases ago.
There was no doubt.
“That settles it,” I said.
He didn't answer.
“What?””
“The person in this image isn't the only thing we're looking at.””
He turned the page.
There was another image.
This one showed Brenda getting into a dark sedan parked outside the pharmacy.
The driver's side window was down.
A second person was behind the wheel.
My breath caught.
“Who is that?””
“We don't know yet.””
“Can you see the face?””
“Not clearly.””
I studied the silhouette.
Broad shoulders.
Dark baseball cap.
One hand resting on the steering wheel.
Then I noticed the vehicle.
A silver strip ran beneath the driver's window.
I knew that car.
My heart began racing.
“No.””
Harris looked at me.
“You recognize it?””
I swallowed.
“That belongs to my brother.””
“Brenda's husband?””
“Yes.””
“Mark?””
I nodded.
Mark had been my older brother by three years.
For most of our childhood, he had been the person I trusted more than anyone.
After our parents died, we'd promised each other we would always protect the family.
But over the last two years, things had changed.
He had become distant.
Busy.
Always working.
Always traveling.
Whenever I mentioned Brenda's behavior toward Leo, Mark dismissed it.
“She means well.””
“She's just old-fashioned.””
“Don't turn everything into a fight.””
And I had listened.
Maybe that had been my mistake.
Detective Harris looked at the image again.
“Your brother's vehicle?””
“I'm almost certain.””
“Can you think of anyone else who drives it?””
“Not usually.””
He nodded slowly.
“Then we're going to need to talk to Mark.””
“Do you think he helped her?””
“I don't know.””
“You think he did.””
“I said I don't know.””
I looked through the glass at Leo.
He was sleeping.
His face was much too small against the hospital pillow.
“I need the truth,” I said.
Harris was quiet.
“So do I.””
The next morning, Leo's condition had improved enough that the doctors moved him out of the intensive care unit.
He was still weak.
Still dizzy.
Still confused.
But awake.
I sat beside him while he ate a few spoonfuls of oatmeal.
He made a face.
“It tastes like wet cardboard.””
I almost laughed.
“That's the first normal thing you've said.””
He frowned.
“Can I have pancakes?””
“When the doctor says you can.””
“That's unfair.””
“There he is.””
His mouth twitched into a tiny smile.
Then the smile disappeared.
“Mom?””
“Yeah?””
“Am I in trouble?””
My heart broke.
“No.””
“But Aunt Brenda said…”
He stopped.
“What did she say?””
Leo stared at the blanket.
“She said you would be mad at me.””
“For what?””
“For being bad.””
My jaw tightened.
“You weren't bad.””
“She said I wouldn't listen.””
“What happened?””
He picked at the edge of his hospital blanket.
“We were playing tag.””
“Okay.””
“Then Aunt Brenda got mad because I beat Maya.””
“Why would that make her mad?””
“I don't know.””
“What happened next?””
“She said I was being too loud.””
I held my breath.
“She told me I needed to calm down.””
He looked at me.
“Then she took something out of her purse.””
“The bottle?””
He nodded.
“She said it was medicine you gave me before.””
My skin went cold.
“You've never taken that medicine.””
“I know.””
“Why did you believe her?””
“Because she said she talked to you.””
I closed my eyes for a second.
“What exactly did she say?””
Leo thought.
“She said you wanted me to take it when I got too hyper.””
“That isn't true.””
“I know that now.””
His voice trembled.
“I told her I didn't want it.””
“What did she do?””
“She got mad.””
He swallowed.
“Then Maya started crying.””
I looked toward the doorway.
Detective Harris was standing outside.
He had heard enough.
“Can I ask him a few questions?”” he asked.
I nodded.
He came in slowly and pulled a chair beside the bed.
“Hi, Leo.””
Leo looked at him.
“Are you a cop?””
“Yes.””
“Am I in trouble?””
“No.””
“Good.””
Harris smiled faintly.
“You're helping us understand what happened.””
Leo nodded.
“Can you tell me about the medicine?””
Leo glanced at me before answering.
“Aunt Brenda said it was Mom's medicine.””
“Did she show you the bottle?””
“Yes.””
“Did she tell you your mom prescribed it?””
“Yes.””
“Did she say why you needed it?””
“To calm down.””
“And did you want to take it?””
“No.””
“What happened after you said no?””
Leo went quiet.
Then he whispered, “She said I could either take it nicely or she would call my mom and tell her I was being bad.””
I felt something inside me snap.
Harris's expression hardened.
“Did she force you?””
Leo nodded.
“How?””
“She held my nose.””
My hand flew to my mouth.
“She squeezed my cheeks and poured it into my mouth.””
“And then?””
“I spit some out.””
“Did she give you more?””
Leo nodded again.
“She said I was being dramatic.””
Harris wrote something down.
“Do you remember seeing anyone else?””
Leo thought.
“There was a man.””
“What man?””
“I don't know.””
“Where?””
“By the car.””
“What did he look like?””
Leo closed his eyes.
“Blue shirt.””
“Anything else?””
“He had a scar here.””
He pointed to his left cheek.
Harris stopped writing.
“A scar?””
“Yeah.””
“Anything else?””
“He was wearing a watch.””
“What kind?””
Leo shrugged.
“Silver.””
Harris thanked him and stood.
When he reached the door, he turned back.
“Leo?””
“Yeah?””
“Did the man talk to you?””
Leo nodded.
“What did he say?””
“He said…”
Leo hesitated.
“He said, ‘Your mom will understand.’”
Detective Harris's face changed.
“Are you sure?””
Leo looked annoyed.
“Yes.””
“What else?””
“He told Aunt Brenda to hurry.””
Harris walked out without another word.
I followed him.
“What does that mean?””
He lowered his voice.
“It means your brother may have been at the park.””
I felt sick.
“That's not possible.””
“Why?””
“Because Mark told me he was out of town.””
Harris looked at me.
“When?””
“Yesterday morning.””
“Where did he say he was going?””
“Cincinnati.””
“Did he say when he'd be back?””
“Monday.””
Detective Harris pulled out his phone.
“That's interesting.””
“What?””
“We checked Mark's phone records.””
My heartbeat jumped.
“And?””
“His phone never went to Cincinnati.””
I stared at him.
“Then where was it?””
“Columbus.””
The room seemed to tilt.
“Are you saying my brother lied to me?””
“I'm saying his phone remained in the same general area yesterday.””
“And Brenda?””
“She never left town either.””
I leaned against the wall.
For years, I'd thought my family was complicated.
Now I was starting to wonder if I had completely misunderstood them.
My phone rang.
Mark.
I looked at the screen.
Harris saw the name.
“Answer it.””
I pressed accept.
“Hello?””
“Sarah?””
His voice sounded breathless.
“What's happening?””
“Leo is in the hospital.””
A pause.
“What?””
“You heard me.””
“Is he okay?””
“He was drugged.””
Silence.
“Drugged?””
“Yes.””
“How?””
“A prescription was filled using my identity.””
Another silence.
Then Mark said, “What are you accusing me of?””
“I haven't accused you of anything.””
“You're calling me like I'm guilty.””
“Where are you?””
“I told you. Cincinnati.””
I looked at Detective Harris.
He slowly shook his head.
I closed my eyes.
“Mark, I know you're lying.””
The line went dead.
Just like that.
I stared at my phone.
“What happened?”” Harris asked.
“He hung up.””
“You told him we know about Cincinnati?””
“Yes.””
“Good.””
“Why?””
“Because now we'll see what he does.””
I frowned.
Harris didn't explain.
Instead, he walked toward the elevator and made a phone call.
I stayed beside Leo's room.
Thirty minutes later, a nurse came running down the hall.
“Ms. Morgan?””
“Yes?””
“There are detectives downstairs.””
My heart jumped.
“Why?””
“They asked for you.””
I headed toward the elevator.
Before the doors closed, my phone buzzed.
A text message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
There was only one sentence.
*You should have kept your son away from our family.*
I stopped breathing.
A second message arrived immediately.
*Now you know what happens when you don't listen.*
I stared at the screen.
Then came a third.
This one contained a photograph.
It was Leo.
Taken at the park.
Before he collapsed.
Someone had photographed my son without my knowledge.
And in the background, reflected faintly in the window of a parked car, was the face of the man Leo had described.
A scar on his cheek.
A silver watch.
And beside him stood Brenda.
But that wasn't the part that terrified me.
Because the man was not Mark.
I knew him.
I had seen that face before.
Just not in my family.
May you like
I had seen it three weeks earlier—
standing outside my house at night.
