Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Back to the man who hands me a business card. “Are you Ethan Blackburn?”
“I am,” I say as I take the card, a pit forming in the bottom of my stomach.
“I’m Detective Phil McCune and this is my partner Dorene Coleman from the Shelbyville County Sheriff’s Department. May we come in and talk?”
“Yeah, sure,” I say, stepping back to let them in. “What is this about?”
“Is there somewhere private we can talk?”
As I shut the door, I turn to see my mom and Marcie standing in the hall that leads to the kitchen, looking at us curiously. “Is everything okay?” my mom asks.
“I’m not sure,” I answer truthfully, giving a pointed look to my mom and Marcie. “These are detectives from the sheriff’s department. We’ll go into the formal room if you can keep an eye on Sylvie.”
Translation: Keep her away so she doesn’t hear anything because I have a bad feeling about this.
My mom nods and I lead McCune and Coleman into the formal room, closing the pocket doors behind us. Because southern manners dictate, I offer them both something to drink but they decline.
I motion to the sofa and they sit on opposite ends, but I remain standing. “So, what is this about?”
“Would you like to sit?” Detective Coleman asks, her voice surprisingly soft and genteel.
“I’m good standing,” I reply curtly. I’ve got live wires energizing every nerve in my body and I’m not sure I can keep still.
She inclines her head in acknowledgment, the faint smile she bore sliding away. “We wanted to ask you some questions about Sylvie.”
My stomach bottoms out. “Wait! What? About Sylvie?”
Are they here because there’s something wrong with custody? Are they going to take her?
“Mr. Blackburn,” Detective Coleman says, drawing my focus back to her. “Does Sylvie have any allergies?”
“Allergies?” I mumble, completely perplexed. “What’s going on?”
“Does she have allergies?” the detective repeats.
“Um… yeah.” I’m sidetracked by McCune scribbling notes, but I turn back to Coleman. “To penicillin, but that’s all.”
“Is there any penicillin in this house?”
“Absolutely not,” I exclaim.
Her hard eyes don’t waver. “May we have your permission to search?”
“Not without me talking to a lawyer first, but I suggest you tell me what the fuck is going on so I know whether I need to call my lawyer.”
Detective McCune holds up a hand, his voice calm. Clearly the good cop for the moment. “Mr. Blackburn, we have reason to believe that Sylvie was given penicillin, which caused an allergic reaction and that’s why she was hospitalized.”
Suddenly, I have to sit. I move to the love seat opposite the cops and flop down, my head spinning. “And you think I dosed my kid?”
“Actually,” he replies with a pointed look, “we’re investigating Lionel Mardraggon.”
I bolt upright, a wave of fury so strong crashing through me, I go dizzy. “Come again?”
“He’s being questioned right now down at the station for suspected foul play. We obviously have to rule out other people at the same time.”
I nod in understanding, but the truth is… I don’t understand a fucking thing. None of this makes sense. “Are you saying Sylvie’s grandfather… what… tried to kill her?”
“We suspect he gave her penicillin to make her ill. The intention is something we have to figure out still.”
“Lionel Mardraggon?” I ask, just to make sure I’m really hearing them. “Her grandfather?”
Neither of the detectives reply.
“What made you suspect him?” I ask, because in a million years, it never once crossed my mind that anyone would want to hurt my daughter, much less her own flesh and blood.
“We can’t share details of the investigation but we had a credible tip from someone close to Mr. Mardraggon.”
And it’s patently clear who that person is. “Gabe Mardraggon. His son.”
Again, neither detective confirms nor denies my suspicion, but I know it was Gabe. He was truly rattled by Sylvie’s illness, and he was struggling with something yesterday morning at the hospital. He must’ve suspected something and part of me wants to beat the shit out of him for not saying anything to me, but I can’t do that. He went to the people who matter.
“Like we said,” Detective McCune continues in a monotone voice, “we’re here to rule you and other family members out. It’s part of the process. Will you let us search your house for penicillin? We can come back with a search warrant but this will make things go faster.”
I’m so fucking tired… down to my bones, and there will be no rest for the weary. “I’m going to say yes, but I’ll want our lawyer here while the search is being done and I want time to get my daughter out of the house so she doesn’t see this. You’re more than welcome to wait here though.”
“That’s fine as we’ll need to call in a team of technicians to conduct the search, get the necessary paperwork granting us permission. Why don’t you give your attorney a call.”