Chapter 4 - The Locked Workshop
The police officers took initial statements in the quiet corner of the hospital lobby. Detective Miller, a seasoned investigator with sharp blue eyes and a dark coat, led the questioning. He was calm, observant, and didn't miss a single nervous twitch of Robert’s hands.
“Mr. Thorne,” Detective Miller said, tapping his pen against his notebook, “your wife states that Maya has been complaining of stomach pain and severe nausea for nearly six months. She also mentions you repeatedly refused to bring her to a hospital. Why is that?”
“I... I thought it was minor!” Robert stammered, sweating profusely despite the cool air in the hospital. “Teenagers exaggerate! We were trying to manage our finances—medical bills in this country are outrageous! I gave her natural peppermint tea and over-the-counter antacids!”
“Peppermint tea,” Detective Miller repeated flatly, making a slow note in his book. “Did you prepare this tea for her yourself?”
Robert blinked, his eyes darting to me for half a second. “Sometimes! My wife made it too! We both cared for her!”
“I made regular herbal tea,” I interjected firmly, stepping forward, my voice steady and cold. “But for the past five months, Robert insisted on giving Maya a special home-brewed herbal mix every night before bed. He kept the dried ingredients in his locked workshop in the basement. He told me it was an expensive organic remedy he bought from a specialty farm online.”
Detective Miller looked up from his notebook, his eyes locking onto Robert. “A locked workshop in the basement? What do you use that workshop for, Mr. Thorne?”
“It’s just... tools! Woodworking!” Robert raised his voice defensively. “I keep it locked so Maya doesn't hurt herself with power tools! This is ridiculous! My daughter is in recovery, and you’re treating me like a criminal!”
“Nobody is treating you like a criminal yet, sir,” Detective Miller said softly. “But given the nature of the toxins found inside your daughter, we need to inspect your home. I’m requesting your voluntary consent to search the premises, specifically your basement workshop.”
Robert stiffened. “No. Absolutely not. Not without a warrant. You have no right to barge into my house!”
“That’s fine,” Detective Miller replied without missing a beat. “We’ll secure the home with uniformed officers right now and obtain a search warrant from a magistrate within the hour. Mrs. Thorne, as a co-owner of the property, do you consent to entry?”
“Yes,” I said immediately, looking Robert dead in the eye. “I give you full permission. Search every inch of that house.”
Robert glared at me with pure, venomous hatred. “You’ll regret this, Sarah,” he whispered under his breath. “You’re destroying this family.”
“You destroyed this family the moment you put poison inside our child,” I spat back.
While Detective Miller sent two officers to secure our residence, I went back upstairs to the ICU recovery unit. Maya was conscious now, connected to an IV line, a heart monitor beep-beeping softly beside her bed.
I sat on the edge of her bed, taking her pale hand in mine. “How are you feeling, sweetie?”
“Empty,” she whispered, her voice fragile and dry. “The sharp burning pain in my stomach... it’s gone, Mom. It’s finally gone.”
I squeezed her hand, tears stinging my eyes. “The doctors fixed it, baby. You’re safe now.”
Maya looked at the door, ensuring we were alone, and then looked back at me, her brown eyes filled with an unsettling, adult solemnity. “Mom... Dad came into my room two nights ago while you were asleep.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”
“He brought me a glass of warm milk and that green tea,” Maya whispered, her breath hitching. “I told him it made my stomach burn worse every time I drank it. I begged him not to make me drink it. But he got really angry. He sat on the edge of my bed, held my chin, and told me that if I didn't drink every drop, he would take away my camera, sell my soccer gear, and cancel my college savings fund. He said I was being an ungrateful brat.”
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A cold horror settled deep inside my bones. It wasn't just neglect. It wasn't just stinginess. Robert had been systematically, deliberately forcing toxic substances into our daughter’s body night after night, enforcing her compliance through fear and psychological coercion.
I kissed Maya’s forehead, my mind made up. “Rest now, my brave girl. Mommy is going to finish this.”
