Saving Meghan(108)
Zach came around to the side of the bed, where he checked the pulse oximeter attached to Becky’s index finger. She was quite familiar with the medical apparatus due to Meghan’s countless hospitalizations.
“Your O2 levels are in the eighties—what we docs call ‘hypoxemia’—which is why you’re probably still feeling some uncomfortable shortness of breath.”
“I thought you’d quit being a doctor here,” Becky said as a spasm returned to her belly.
“I’m here as a friend, not a physician,” Zach said. “The police were here as well—those two detectives, Capshaw and Spence.”
“What for?”
“To get a statement from you, but you couldn’t give them much of one. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for hours. We still don’t know what got into your system, but Dr. Lucy Abruzzo here in pathology is testing your chicken soup.”
“My … my soup?”
Becky’s stomach lurched again, maybe from the memory. She felt her world tilt, but thankfully her equilibrium returned quickly. Her vision had improved considerably in the short time she had had her eyes open. Now she could see the tubes sticking out of her arms, could follow the trail of wires attached to monitors reading her vital signs. The bright fluorescents overhead were harsh on her eyes.
Zach must have noticed her agitation, because he turned off the room lights, providing Becky with instant relief.
“You became violently ill while you were eating the soup,” Zach said. He went on to recount a terrifying ordeal that involved a frantic race to the local pharmacy and him force-feeding her a bottle of ipecac syrup.
“In hindsight, I really screwed up,” Zach said.
“Why?”
“I shouldn’t have induced vomiting. Your breathing was already compromised and you could have aspirated, which could have been fatal. And with the poison already having been absorbed, making you throw up was dangerous at that point. I made a spur-of-the-moment decision when I drove past the pharmacy. I panicked, and my judgment was wrong, plain and simple. That seems to happen to me with people I care about.”
Becky knew he was talking about Will—and surprisingly (and yes, flatteringly), her as well.
“The doctors wanted you intubated and sedated,” Zach continued, “but I told them no, you’d want to be awake so you could help the police.”
“I was so sick,” Becky said as horrible memories flooded her, the intense pain in her belly, the blinding fear of death. “Meghan … my God, Meghan. It must have been what she felt like.”
Zach’s expression blended curiosity and concern. “Why do you say that?”
“Because she was sick like that … suddenly and intensely,” Becky said in a weak, raspy voice. Zach helped her drink water from a cup on the tray beside her bed. “It happened once when we were home and twice here at White. It was why we brought her to the ER that day, when you referred us to Dr. Nash. The last time I visited her, I didn’t give her soup, because I wanted her to eat the hot lunch that day. It was part of our escape plan.”
“So three times it’s happened,” Zach said.
“Three, yes,” said Becky. “Four, if you count me.”
A dark look crossed Zach’s stubble-covered face. He looked worn and exhausted, as if he, too, had swallowed something deadly. “Becky … have you ever wondered … if Carl could have something to do with it?”
“Carl?” There was a pull on the nasogastric tube as Becky lifted her head slightly off the bed pillow to fix Zach with a confused look.
“I brought up the idea of Carl’s involvement earlier in a rather unpleasant exchange with Nash and Knox Singer. It’s not common for the father to be behind a case of Munchausen by proxy, but it’s not unheard of either.”
“You think Carl poisoned my soup?”
“He’s been present for every instance where a possible poisoning took place. At your home, and here at White.”
“He was with me every time…” Becky’s voice trailed off.
“I should call the police,” Zach said.
“Wait!” Becky pulled on the tubes again as she held up her hand. “Carl’s powerful and determined. He’s also the cosigner of my bond.”
“And?”
“And if he revokes it, I could end up in jail.”
Zach seemed to share Becky’s concern. “What do you want me to do?”
“Let’s see if we can get proof,” Becky said. A fresh jolt of adrenaline masked the discomfort of her nasal tube, making speech less effortful. “I kicked him out of the house. I don’t think he took his computer with him. I know the password. Maybe we can find his secrets before he thinks to cover his tracks.”
CHAPTER 53
ZACH
It was just after sunset when he pulled into the driveway of Becky and Carl’s Concord home. The posse of reporters—who had followed Zach to the pharmacy and later to the hospital—was no longer camped out front, because the story was not here anymore. The story was in the ICU at White, where Becky was recovering, and in the Behavioral Health Unit, where Meghan was locked up. But soon enough, the story could be with Carl, whose whereabouts remained unknown.