Chapter 4 - The Notebook That Vanished.
Marcus remained inside the elevator long after the doors opened.
People moved around him in the hospital lobby, but Emily's last sentence drowned out everything else.
Enough that I stopped believing they were accidents.
"Start from the beginning," Marcus said.
Emily hesitated.
"Not on the phone."
"Then tell me where you are."
"I don't know if I can trust anyone from your house."
Marcus almost answered with the authority that had destroyed their last conversation.
He stopped himself.
"You don't have to trust them."
He swallowed.
"Trust me long enough to tell me what happened."
Emily gave a short, bitter breath.
"You fired me for trying to help your baby."
Marcus closed his eyes.
"I know."
"You told me you didn't pay me to think."
The words sounded uglier coming back through the phone.
"I know what I said."
"Do you?"
Marcus had no defense that did not sound like another excuse.
"Yes."
A hospital orderly stepped toward the elevator and saw Marcus standing inside.
Marcus moved into the lobby.
"Emily, I can't undo that moment."
His voice lowered.
"But Zion is alive, and the doctor believes the bath helped him."
Emily was silent.
"She wants to know exactly what you noticed."
"His skin smelled wrong."
Marcus stopped walking.
"What do you mean?"
"Sweet."
Emily searched for the word.
"Not like baby soap."
"Perfume?"
"More chemical than perfume."
"The white bottle?"
"I saw it near the changing table earlier."
Marcus's pulse rose.
"Who had it?"
"Margaret."
He looked toward the hospital entrance.
"What was she doing with it?"
"She sprayed something into her hands."
"Onto Zion?"
"I didn't see that part."
Emily spoke carefully.
"But later, when I picked up his blanket to take it to the laundry, I smelled the same thing."
Marcus remembered Margaret telling the paramedic nothing had been applied to Zion's skin.
"Why didn't you tell me this in the kitchen?"
Emily's response came immediately.
"I tried."
Marcus flinched.
"You were shouting."
He had no answer.
Emily continued.
"Zion started rubbing his face after Margaret left for her phone call."
"How long after?"
"Maybe two minutes."
"Then?"
"His cheeks became red."
"Then?"
"He coughed."
Emily's voice shook.
"Not a normal little cough."
"What did you do?"
"I called for Margaret."
"No answer?"
"Nothing."
"So you put him in the bath."
"I remembered something from a childcare course I took before I started housekeeping work."
Marcus frowned.
"You took a childcare course?"
"I used to help at a daycare."
That was another fact he had never bothered to learn.
"They taught us that if something irritating gets on a child's skin, rinsing it off quickly can matter."
"You thought something was on him."
"I didn't know."
Emily sounded exhausted.
"I only knew the smell was strongest around his neck and arms."
Marcus looked down at his own hands.
He remembered lifting Zion from the tub.
He remembered the faint scent on the towel.
At the time, he had assumed it was soap.
"The notebook," he said.
Emily went quiet again.
"What was in it?"
"Dates."
"Of what?"
"Things I noticed."
Marcus started walking toward an empty seating area.
"Tell me."
"The first week I worked there, Zion slept almost six hours in the afternoon."
"Babies sleep."
"I know."
Emily's tone remained patient despite him.
"But the next day I heard Margaret arguing with the pediatric nurse on the phone because the nurse told her not to give him anything that wasn't approved."
Marcus's neck tightened.
"What did Margaret say?"
"She said she knew how to handle a baby."
"Anything else?"
"Three days later, I found a tiny empty dropper bottle in the nursery trash."
Marcus stood still.
"Did you keep it?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I was the maid."
The sentence contained no sarcasm.
That made it worse.
"I wrote it down instead."
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
"What else?"
"Twice, Margaret told me not to wash Zion's blankets with the regular baby detergent because she had sprayed something on them."
"What?"
"She called it a calming mist."
Marcus felt the pieces begin moving toward one another.
"Did you ever see the label?"
"Today was the first time."
"Whitaker Wellness Labs."
"Yes."
Marcus lowered his voice.
"That product was never approved for use on infants."
Emily inhaled.
"Then why was it in his nursery?"
Marcus had no answer.
The question turned his stomach.
"Where are you?"
"A bus station."
"Which one?"
"I'm not telling you until I know you're alone."
Marcus looked around the hospital lobby.
"I'm alone."
"Margaret?"
"Missing."
Emily went silent.
"Emily?"
"She left the hospital?"
"Yes."
"Then don't go home."
Marcus's expression hardened.
"Why?"
"Because she was afraid before Zion got sick."
"Afraid of what?"
"I don't think it was you."
Marcus heard an announcement over the bus station speaker on Emily's end of the line.
He could not make out the location.
"Emily, tell me where you are."
"Promise you won't send security."
"I promise."
"Promise you won't bring Margaret."
"I don't know where she is."
"Promise anyway."
Marcus paused.
"I promise."
Emily finally gave him the station name.
It was twenty minutes away.
Marcus texted Elias that he was leaving and instructed him to stay with Zion.
Then he called Dr. Morales.
"I found the maid."
"Bring her here if she is willing."
"She isn't."
"Then get everything she remembers."
"Doctor, she saw a prototype product near Zion."
Dr. Morales's tone sharpened.
"Bring me the ingredient data and any packaging you can find."
"The packaging disappeared."
"Then find another sample."
Marcus ended the call and walked toward the hospital exit.
A black sedan waited at the curb.
His driver stepped out.
"Bus terminal on Madison," Marcus said.
The driver opened the rear door.
Marcus stopped before getting in.
Across the street, a woman in a beige coat stood beside a parked SUV.
For half a second, Marcus thought it was Margaret.
The woman turned away.
Marcus narrowed his eyes.
Then his phone buzzed.
Daniel Voss had finally sent the destruction records.
Marcus opened the attachment while the car pulled away.
The document listed thirty-two early prototype bottles.
Thirty-one had been destroyed.
Marcus read the number again.
Thirty-one.
One sample was unaccounted for.
The missing inventory line contained a handwritten note scanned into the file.
Executive evaluation sample.
Marcus enlarged the image.
Beside the note were two initials.
M.W.
His own.
Marcus stared at the screen.
He had never requested the sample.
Someone had signed his initials to remove it from inventory.
The sedan turned toward the bus station.
Marcus called Daniel.
"Who signed the release form?"
Daniel sounded confused.
"What release form?"
"The missing prototype."
There was another pause.
"It says you did."
"I didn't."
Silence.
Marcus's voice became dangerously calm.
"Daniel, who had access to my authorization code?"
"Your executive office."
"Names."
"Your chief of staff. Legal. Me, in emergencies."
Marcus looked out the window.
"And Margaret?"
Daniel laughed once in disbelief.
"Your nanny? Of course not."
Marcus ended the call.
The bus terminal came into view.
When he stepped out, he saw Emily immediately.
She sat alone on a metal bench near the far wall, clutching a canvas overnight bag.
Her uniform was gone.
She wore jeans, a gray sweater, and the same exhausted expression Marcus had seen when she left his kitchen.
She stood when he approached.
Marcus stopped several feet away.
For once, he did not expect the other person to close the distance.
"Zion is stable," he said.
Emily's eyes filled with relief.
"Thank you for telling me."
Marcus nodded.
Then he did something he had not done in years without a lawyer advising him first.
He apologized without defending himself.
"I was cruel to you."
Emily looked at him.
"I was wrong."
He swallowed.
"You tried to protect my son, and I punished you for it."
Emily's mouth trembled slightly.
"I don't need my job back."
"I'm not asking you to come back for the job."
Marcus took out his phone and showed her the inventory record.
"I'm asking because someone used my name to remove the product that may have hurt Zion."
Emily read the screen.
Her face changed.
"I've seen those initials before."
Marcus felt a chill.
"Where?"
Emily looked up at him.
"In my notebook."
"On what?"
"A delivery slip Margaret threw away."
Marcus leaned closer.
"Who signed it?"
Emily's voice dropped.
"Not Margaret."
"Then who?"
May you like
She looked toward the station entrance as if afraid someone might be watching.
"Daniel Voss."
