Chapter 6 - The Poisoned Blood
The heavy leather diary violently slipped from my trembling hands and hit the concrete floor with a sickening thud.
My own flesh and blood was actively trying to murder the kind woman who had given us life.
David instantly noticed my pale, completely bloodless face and urgently asked what was wrong.
I pointed mutely to the diary on the floor, entirely unable to form words through the crushing, suffocating wave of betrayal.
David picked it up and read the entry, his professional, calm demeanor instantly shifting into dangerous, lethal anger.
He violently grabbed his radio and ordered a heavily armed tactical team to immediately raid Michael and Dana's suburban home.
I realized with terrifying, crystal clarity why my mother's heart rate had been so dangerously irregular at the hospital.
I pulled out my phone and frantically dialed Dr. Aris's personal cell phone number.
I aggressively ordered him to run a comprehensive, emergency toxicology screen on my mother immediately.
Dr. Aris hesitated nervously, stating that strict hospital policy required written patient consent for heavy metal and toxin screenings.
I screamed into the phone that it was a matter of life and death and that I would personally destroy his medical license.
He quickly backed down and agreed to run the specific bloodwork on an extreme emergency rush.
I hung up the phone and leaned heavily against the cold evidence room wall, desperately trying to control my erratic breathing.
David placed a warm, reassuring hand on my shoulder, fiercely promising me that Michael would not escape federal justice.
We quickly left the chaotic precinct and jumped directly into David's unmarked, heavily armored federal SUV.
We sped aggressively toward the hospital, blowing through every single red light in the dark, rain-soaked city.
I absolutely needed to be there when the final toxicology results came back from the lab.
If Michael had been secretly dosing her for months, the physical damage to her heart might already be irreversible.
My phone suddenly buzzed violently in my pocket, displaying an unknown, completely restricted caller ID.
I answered it highly cautiously, immediately putting the call on speakerphone so David could hear every word.
A cold, digitally altered voice echoed menacingly through the quiet cabin of the car.
The distorted voice calmly told me that the federal police raid on Michael's house had failed completely.
Michael and Dana had entirely vanished and were no longer inside the suburban residence.
The caller laughed, a chilling, mechanical sound that made the fine hairs on my arms stand straight up.
The voice casually told me to look out the right passenger window immediately.
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I turned my head just in time to see a massive, heavy-duty commercial tow truck blow through the intersection.
The massive steel grill of the truck violently slammed directly into the side of our speeding SUV.
