harder.
Sara kept talking, holding down Faith’s hands. “Was it this morning? Did you eat breakfast this morning?”
“Go ’way.”
Sara turned to Mrs. Levy. “You’re not diabetic, are you?”
“No, dear, but my husband was. Passed away almost twenty years ago, bless his soul.”
Sara told Will, “She’s having an insulin reaction. Where’s her purse?”
Mrs. Levy supplied, “She didn’t have it when they brought her here. Maybe she left it in the car.”
Again, Sara directed her words to Will. “She should have an emergency kit in her purse. It’s plastic. It says ‘Glucagon’ on the side.” She seemed to remember herself. “It’s oblong, about the size of a pen case. Bright red or orange. Get it for me now, please.”
Will took the baby with him, jogging toward the front door and out into the yard. The lots in Sherwood Forest were larger than most, but some of them were long and narrow rather than wide. Will could see directly into Evelyn Mitchell’s bathroom from Mrs. Levy’s carport. He could see a man standing in the long hallway. Will wondered not for the first time how the old woman hadn’t heard the gun-fight next door. She wouldn’t be the first witness who didn’t want to get involved, but Will was surprised by her reticence.
It didn’t occur to him until he was a few feet from the Mini that Faith’s car was part of the crime scene. There were two cops standing on the other side of the car, four more in the carport. Will scanned the interior. He saw the plastic case Sara had told him about mixed in with various lady items on the passenger’s seat.
He told the cops, “I need to get something out of the car.”
“Tough shit,” one of them shot back.
Will indicated Emma, who was sucking on the bottle like she’d been on a ten-mile hike. “She needs her teething thing. She’s teething.”
The cops stared at him. Will wondered if he’d screwed up. He’d changed his share of diapers at the children’s home, but he had no idea when babies got their teeth. Emma was four months old. All her food came from Faith or a bottle. As far as he could tell, she didn’t need to chew anything.
“Come on.” Will held up Emma so they could see her little pink face. “She’s just a tiny baby.”
“All right,” one of them relented. He walked around the car and opened the door. “Where is it?”
“It’s that red plastic thing. Looks like a pen case.”
The cop didn’t appear to find this odd. He picked up the kit and handed it to Will. “She all right?”
“She was just thirsty.”
“I meant Faith, dipshit.”
Will tried to take the kit, but the man wouldn’t let go.
He repeated his question. “Is Faith going to be okay?”
Will realized there was more going on here. “Yes. She’s going to be fine.”
“Tell her Brad says we’re gonna find her mom.” He let go of the kit and slammed the door.
Will didn’t give the man time to change his mind. He jogged back to the house, trying not to jostle the baby. Mrs. Levy still stood sentry at the door. She opened it before Will could knock.
The scene inside had changed. Faith was lying on the couch. Sara was cupping the back of her head, making her drink from a can of Coke.
Sara immediately started in on Will. “You should’ve called in the medics first thing,” she admonished. “Her blood sugar is too low. She’s stuporous and diaphoretic. Her heart is racing. This isn’t something you play around with.” She took the kit from him and popped it open. Inside was a syringe filled with a clear liquid and a vial of white powder that looked a lot like cocaine. Sara cleaned the needle with a cotton ball and some rubbing alcohol that she had obviously gotten from Mrs. Levy. She talked as she pressed the syringe into the vial and squirted in the liquid. “I’m assuming she hasn’t eaten since breakfast. The adrenaline from the confrontation in the house would’ve giving her an enormous sugar kick, but it made
Sara kept talking, holding down Faith’s hands. “Was it this morning? Did you eat breakfast this morning?”
“Go ’way.”
Sara turned to Mrs. Levy. “You’re not diabetic, are you?”
“No, dear, but my husband was. Passed away almost twenty years ago, bless his soul.”
Sara told Will, “She’s having an insulin reaction. Where’s her purse?”
Mrs. Levy supplied, “She didn’t have it when they brought her here. Maybe she left it in the car.”
Again, Sara directed her words to Will. “She should have an emergency kit in her purse. It’s plastic. It says ‘Glucagon’ on the side.” She seemed to remember herself. “It’s oblong, about the size of a pen case. Bright red or orange. Get it for me now, please.”
Will took the baby with him, jogging toward the front door and out into the yard. The lots in Sherwood Forest were larger than most, but some of them were long and narrow rather than wide. Will could see directly into Evelyn Mitchell’s bathroom from Mrs. Levy’s carport. He could see a man standing in the long hallway. Will wondered not for the first time how the old woman hadn’t heard the gun-fight next door. She wouldn’t be the first witness who didn’t want to get involved, but Will was surprised by her reticence.
It didn’t occur to him until he was a few feet from the Mini that Faith’s car was part of the crime scene. There were two cops standing on the other side of the car, four more in the carport. Will scanned the interior. He saw the plastic case Sara had told him about mixed in with various lady items on the passenger’s seat.
He told the cops, “I need to get something out of the car.”
“Tough shit,” one of them shot back.
Will indicated Emma, who was sucking on the bottle like she’d been on a ten-mile hike. “She needs her teething thing. She’s teething.”
The cops stared at him. Will wondered if he’d screwed up. He’d changed his share of diapers at the children’s home, but he had no idea when babies got their teeth. Emma was four months old. All her food came from Faith or a bottle. As far as he could tell, she didn’t need to chew anything.
“Come on.” Will held up Emma so they could see her little pink face. “She’s just a tiny baby.”
“All right,” one of them relented. He walked around the car and opened the door. “Where is it?”
“It’s that red plastic thing. Looks like a pen case.”
The cop didn’t appear to find this odd. He picked up the kit and handed it to Will. “She all right?”
“She was just thirsty.”
“I meant Faith, dipshit.”
Will tried to take the kit, but the man wouldn’t let go.
He repeated his question. “Is Faith going to be okay?”
Will realized there was more going on here. “Yes. She’s going to be fine.”
“Tell her Brad says we’re gonna find her mom.” He let go of the kit and slammed the door.
Will didn’t give the man time to change his mind. He jogged back to the house, trying not to jostle the baby. Mrs. Levy still stood sentry at the door. She opened it before Will could knock.
The scene inside had changed. Faith was lying on the couch. Sara was cupping the back of her head, making her drink from a can of Coke.
Sara immediately started in on Will. “You should’ve called in the medics first thing,” she admonished. “Her blood sugar is too low. She’s stuporous and diaphoretic. Her heart is racing. This isn’t something you play around with.” She took the kit from him and popped it open. Inside was a syringe filled with a clear liquid and a vial of white powder that looked a lot like cocaine. Sara cleaned the needle with a cotton ball and some rubbing alcohol that she had obviously gotten from Mrs. Levy. She talked as she pressed the syringe into the vial and squirted in the liquid. “I’m assuming she hasn’t eaten since breakfast. The adrenaline from the confrontation in the house would’ve giving her an enormous sugar kick, but it made
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