“Does your dad know where you are?” Ethan asked.

Avery lowered her voice. “He’s looking for us.”

A telephone rang before Ethan could respond. The county dispatcher reported that a physician had just called about two missing children who had supposedly become confused after refusing their medication.

The description matched the girls.

Within minutes, a black SUV stopped sharply outside the station. Avery saw it through the rain-streaked glass and froze. Elsie slipped from the bench to the floor.

Ethan walked to the entrance, turned the lock, and lowered the interior security bar.

“Stay behind the counter,” he told them. “No one is taking you anywhere until the paramedics examine you.”

A tall white man in his early forties stepped from the vehicle carrying a pink backpack. His dark overcoat looked expensive, and even in the rain, he moved with the confidence of someone accustomed to being welcomed.

Dr. Nolan Pierce tried the door once, then again. When it remained locked, the pleasant expression left his face.

“Deputy, open this door,” he called through the glass. “My daughters require medical care.”

Ethan looked at the sealed evidence envelope, then at the two children crouching behind his desk.

Nolan lifted the pink backpack as if to prove he had arrived as a concerned parent.

Beside Ethan, Avery whispered, “The other syringe is in there.”

Part Two: The Story He Had Prepared

Nolan did not raise his voice at first. He spoke with polished restraint, explaining that Avery had an active imagination and that his former wife had encouraged the child to distrust him.

“You are interfering in a private medical matter,” he said. “If you continue holding my children, I will report you personally.”

Ethan kept one hand on his radio.

“Your daughters came here asking for protection. They will remain inside until they receive an independent medical evaluation.”

The ambulance entered through a side gate, and two paramedics hurried in. One began examining Elsie while the other sat with Avery and asked about the liquid.

“It was clear,” Avery said. “It smelled sweet, like the wipes Dad keeps in his office.”

“Did he give any to you?”

“He said I was next, but Elsie started folding over. I grabbed her coat and ran.”

Outside, Nolan paced beneath the station awning while making several calls. Then Ethan saw him unzip the front compartment of the pink backpack and glance inside. He closed it quickly and turned toward his vehicle.