EVAN WAS RUNNING AROUND THE PLAYROOM, DANCING TO the music Taylor had playing. His color was good, and eyes bright. Even so, Taylor was still unsettled. When she’d pressed the doctor about why Evan’s iron levels had dipped in the first place, he had assured her that he wasn’t worried, especially as the CBC was normal and the reticulocyte count test showed his blood was regenerating fine. He’d also told them that sometimes it could be an absorption issue but that required some invasive tests by a gastroenterologist. So for now, the plan was to test Evan’s levels again in a month. The doctor called in a prescription for iron supplements and told them to watch out for any symptoms of fatigue. So far, so good.
She’d placed a phone call to Darlene Sampson, Cora’s mother, last night, just to see how she was doing, and had been saddened to learn that Cora had died last week. She hadn’t known what to say, had no comfort to offer this grieving mother. Taylor’s own emotions were all the more raw because of what she’d just been through with Evan. She was newly outraged at UBC’s decision to keep Cora’s parents off the show—their story needed to be heard. She had stewed about it all night and felt a sense of guilt that she hadn’t pushed harder to make them run the story. But the reality was that as a producer she had limited power if the network decided to cut something. The only way she could retain true journalistic integrity was to freelance. When this assignment was over, she’d be free of her contract and she’d write her own piece about Cora and see who would pick it up.
She was relieved that the story was almost finished. The last piece was happening today, the production crew flying out to Colorado for the shoot with the parents of Lawrence, the young boy who’d been denied the corneal transplant. Taylor felt good about the shape of all three segments. She’d been surprised but relieved when Karen told her she didn’t need to accompany them to the shoot. Taylor was usually on-site since hers was the face the interviewees knew. But they were apparently over budget on the segments so only staff that was strictly necessary would be going. As a freelancer, Taylor was the first to be cut.
She heard the front door open and Jack come in.
“I’m in the kitchen,” she called out to him.
He came in and gave her a kiss. “How’s he doing?”
She pointed to the playroom. “Happy as a clam.”
“Awesome. I just got off the phone with Georgia. She went ahead and looked at the tox report on Shannon Doyle that I sent her. She noticed that they listed MDMA along with the meth.”
“What’s that?”
“The street name is ecstasy or molly,” he said. “According to Georgia, it can cause damage to the serotonin receptors in the prefrontal cortex, which can cause violent behavior. It could explain what we’re seeing in these cases.”
“Wasn’t Jeremy saying there might be a drug combination that would cause violence?” Taylor asked.
Jack’s eyes widened. “If I recall correctly, that’s exactly what he said.”
“That would certainly explain why all of them got violent. It really appears as though someone is doing this on purpose,” Taylor added.
Jack shrugged. “We still have to consider that most street drugs these days are cut with many other things. You never really know what you’re getting. Someone could have thought they were taking ecstasy and it could have been laced with meth, or LSD, even.”
“You said she was having an affair, right? That’s why they were in counseling. Ecstasy is a drug of choice for partiers. Maybe her boyfriend gave it to her.”
“The only connection for sure is the meth,” Jack answered. “I’ll have to find out from Scotty if the others also had the MDMA in their systems.”
“Jack, would someone be able to tell by comparing the tox screens if they’ve all had the same exact cocktail of drugs in their system?”
“I’m not a toxicology expert, but I would assume so.”
“And do you think there are any factors that make some folks more susceptible to this meth psychosis?” Taylor asked.
“Let’s google it.” He pulled out his phone and tapped. After a few minutes he showed her the screen. “It says here that a family history of psychotic disorder is a factor and it’s thought that a history of trauma could be related. But there’s no one definitive factor.”
“You’re sending Jeremy the reports as well, right?”
“Yeah. I’m going to go change and take a run.”
“Okay. Jack?”
He turned. “Yeah?”
“Any update on the Dakota situation?”
“No, I’m still waiting for Sybil to call and let me know she has the passport. It’s strange actually, but I’m waiting it out.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
After Jack left for his run, Taylor went to close the door when she noticed a black sedan was stopped in front of the house. Beau was standing beside her, and he didn’t seem agitated—by now, she knew to trust his instincts—but she couldn’t see who was in the car, as the windows were tinted, and it made her nervous. It began to pull away slowly, but not before the driver’s side window went down, and she got a glimpse of a person in the driver’s seat holding a long lens trained at the house. Were they taking a picture? Before she could think, she ran out of the house and toward the car, but the driver floored it, and it sped away.