On the other end of the line, silence lingered for several seconds before a low, steady voice finally responded.
“Good. You’ve finally made up your mind. I’ve been investigating this case for the past five years. Give me one more week, and I’ll make sure they pay—blood for blood.”
I closed my eyes, my fingernails digging deep into my palms.
“All right. In the meantime, I’ll find a way to get hold of the surveillance footage from that surgery.”
Alan paused before lowering his voice. “Why are you so certain she still has it?”
Instantly, the memory of that day five years ago surged before my eyes.
The machines blared with urgent alarms. The heart monitor abruptly flatlined. My son’s small body convulsed one last time on the operating table…
And in the trembling hand of the assistant surgeon, Mariam Shanahan, gleamed a syringe filled with the wrong medication.
Her stammering confession still rang in my ears. “I’m sorry, I… I must have grabbed the wrong drug…”
Later, I learned it was not a mistake at all. She had done it on purpose!