Nora stood beside her sister, one hand pressed firmly between Violet’s shoulder blades.
“You did the right thing,” Paul told her softly.
Nora’s lower lip trembled. “Are we in trouble?”
“No,” he said firmly. “You came for help. You’re safe here.”
The words seemed to loosen something deep inside both girls. Violet began to cry without making a sound, her little shoulders shaking. Nora did not cry. She only gripped the edge of the wooden counter and stared at the sealed white envelope.
While the paramedics were en route, Paul entered the pharmacy code printed in faded blue along the syringe barrel into the state prescription monitoring database.
The first search returned a dispensing location—a local retail pharmacy four blocks away.
The second returned a transaction time from earlier that afternoon.
The third opened the prescribing credential attached to the filled order.
Dr. Richard Hayes.
Their father.
