Richard’s confident expression tightened. “I prescribed what Violet needed,” he said loudly through the gap in the door frame. “You’re delaying necessary medical treatment.”
Paul picked up the pharmacy printout. “You reported to dispatch that both girls refused their medicine.”
“They did. They panicked and ran off.”
“Nora says you forced Violet to swallow it.”
For the first time, Richard stopped moving.
It was not an overt, dramatic reaction. His face did not collapse. He simply pulled his leather laptop bag closer against his ribs.
That small, instinctual movement told Paul exactly where to look next.
The ambulance arrived, its red lights flashing against the wet pavement without the siren. Two paramedics entered swiftly through the secured side entrance.
The lead paramedic knelt beside Violet on the linoleum floor, speaking in a quiet, reassuring tone. She asked short, simple questions: Where does it hurt? Do you feel dizzy? Do you remember if the liquid tasted bitter?
