Chapter 3 - THE DAY WHITNEY LOST CONTROL
Federal agents arrived at nine the following morning.
Special Agent Mark Delaney led the team. Two FBI investigators worked with officers from the FDA, photographing the formula cans and collecting samples from the powder I had dumped into the trash.
Neil stood behind the kitchen island, pale and silent.
He had spent the night in a hotel.
I had allowed him to return only because investigators wanted his statement.
“Did your mother have access to the house?” Agent Delaney asked.
“She knows the security code,” Neil admitted.
I turned toward him.
“You told me you changed it.”
“I did. Then she said she needed access in case something happened to us.”
Delaney’s expression did not change, but Neil’s shame deepened.
I sat on the floor near the far end of the island with Micah secure against my chest. I had been dressed for a charity luncheon when the agents arrived, so the layered flowers of my pale-pink gown spread across the dark tile around me.
Six metallic cans stood open near the island. White powder had spilled across the floor during collection.
Delaney held up a partially peeled false label.
“This paper stock came from a commercial printing company in Tacoma,” he said. “The order was placed by the Duncan Family Wellness Foundation.”
Neil gripped the marble.
“My mother’s foundation?”
Before Delaney could answer, the front door opened.
Whitney’s heels struck the floor in quick, hard steps.
She entered the kitchen wearing a fitted red dress, pearls, and a look of pure fury.
“What are these people doing in my son’s home?”
“Whitney Duncan?” Delaney asked.
“Who are you?”
He showed his credentials.
Whitney barely looked at them.
Her gaze found Micah.
“Give me my grandson.”
I tightened my arms around him.
“No.”
She lunged.
Two agents seized her upper arms before she reached us. Her black heel slid through the spilled powder, kicking one formula can across the floor.
“Give me my grandson!” she screamed.
I twisted away, shielding Micah against my chest.
The agents forced Whitney two steps backward.
Neil rushed around the island.
I raised one hand.
“Don’t touch my baby.”
He stopped.
The metal can rolled across the tile and struck his shoe.
Neil bent and picked it up. The damaged label peeled farther beneath his fingers, revealing the scratched original packaging.
“Mom,” he whispered. “What did you put in this?”
Whitney stopped struggling for half a second.
Then she forced a brittle smile.
“She poisoned you against me.”
An agent lifted a transparent evidence bag containing a sample of the powder.
Another officer placed a sealed laboratory envelope on the island.
Neil’s phone slipped from his hand and struck the floor.
I looked directly at Whitney.
“Then explain why the lab called the FBI.”
Her expression collapsed.
She stared at the evidence bag, then at the sealed envelope.
Neil took one step backward.
For the first time in our twelve-year relationship, I watched him look at his mother without automatically searching for an excuse.
Agent Delaney slid the envelope toward him.
“This is the confirmed analysis.”
Neil reached for it with trembling fingers.
Whitney stopped fighting.
“Neil.”
Her voice was barely audible.
He froze before opening the envelope.
“Don’t read that,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“Because she’ll use it to destroy this family.”
I rose carefully with Micah in my arms.
“I didn’t put anything in those cans.”
Whitney’s eyes flicked toward the baby.
Delaney noticed.
“Mrs. Duncan, why don’t you want your son to see the result?”
“I want my attorney.”
“You’ll have one.”
Neil broke the seal.
His eyes moved across the page.
The last color left his face.
“This can’t be right.”
“It was confirmed by two laboratories,” Delaney said.
Neil looked at Whitney.
“This is the same drug.”
Whitney’s lips parted.
“What drug?” I asked.
Neil lowered the paper.
“The medication they found in my blood when I was a baby.”
The room fell silent.
Whitney’s knees buckled, but the agents held her upright.
May you like
Neil stared at his mother as if the woman in front of him had taken off a mask he had worn his entire life.
“You did this to me too.”
