Nancy Holder by Saving Grace (v5)

Author:Saving Grace (v5)
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780345515971
Publisher: a cognizant original v5 release october 21 2010
Published: 2010-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Mr. Catlett was in Houston on business; he was catching the next flight back. Rhetta had found some latent prints on the wall—man-sized, maybe they were Dad’s and maybe they were Hannibal Lector’s—and there were streak marks and rope fibers embedded in the windowsill consistent with someone dragging something heavy out of the house. Restraints, a kid goofing, who knew? Rhetta was doing her tests.

Turned out Forrest’s denim jacket was missing. Grace was very proud of Mrs. Catlett for getting her act together sufficiently to notice. Unfortunately, Mrs. Catlett couldn’t remember if he’d been wearing it the last time she’d seen him. They couldn’t get anywhere with her after that, and she asked for and received a tranq. Butch and Bobby stayed on the home front while Grace and Ham took to the field.

The partners drove to Forrest’s pediatrician’s office in Grace’s Porsche. Ham had to move aside some fast-food bags, and he sat on a squeaky toy she’d bought for Gus. It was still raining and the wind was brutal. A storm by any other name … Oklahoma had more tornadoes than any other state in the Union. There had to be some kind of price to pay for living in God’s country, she supposed.

They got to the pediatrician’s office. There were cartoon giraffes and lions on the walls—had to embarrass a young teenage boy—and Grace remembered Clay telling her that Forrest had a thing for snow leopards. She felt as if she understood him a little better—the sad, pale boy with the enmeshed mother.

Bobby called to tell her that he’d checked in with the pharmacy where Mrs. Catlett got Forrest’s insulin. She purchased a month’s supply at a time. The school had some on hand. She was missing a little over a quarter of her stash. A week’s worth. And more than enough syringes to deliver it. That was cause for celebration.

“Look for prints on the remaining syringes,” Grace advised.

His doctor was an older man, maybe sixty, with very silvery gray hair, named Dr. Salzman. He ushered them into his office—drawings by kids on the walls, comfy leather chairs, a big wooden desk with lots of files and a computer.

Grace filled him in quickly. “Some insulin is missing from the house. More than a quarter of the total. So we’re going on the assumption that it’s with Forrest. So that gives us a week, right?”

“Which kind?” the doctor asked. Grace blinked. She looked over at Ham, who shrugged.

“Forrest takes two kinds of insulin. Most children with Type One diabetes need a sort of foundational insulin that keeps their blood sugar levels low on a constant basis. Then they take a bolus insulin—something that acts fast—to lower blood sugar levels when they eat.”

Grace took that in. Bobby hadn’t differentiated the prescription, but he would know to ask. If he said a week, he meant a week.

“I’ll write down his standard dosages for you, and you can compare them with what’s in the house. Another factor is what he eats. The more carbohydrates he eats, the greater his need for insulin.

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