Chapter 2 - The Doctor Who Never Brought a Prescription
At 6:58 the next morning, Grant sat in the library.
At exactly seven, footsteps entered the hall.
Measured.
Confident.
Vernon Hale had arrived.
“Grant.”
“Vernon.”
Hale was sixty-one, silver-haired, polished, and wealthy enough to speak to dangerous men without sounding frightened.
His leather medical case clicked open.
“How have the headaches been?”
“Better.”
“Any pressure?”
“No.”
“Pain?”
“No.”
“Light sensitivity?”
Grant almost smiled.
“How would I know?”
Hale laughed quietly.
“Fair point.”
Hannah stood near the bookcase pretending to dust.
Lucy was upstairs with the cook.
Daniel remained outside the door.
Hale removed a small bottle.
Grant heard the cap twist.
“One drop each eye.”
Hannah watched.
No pharmacy label.
No dosage information.
Only a handwritten H.
Hale tilted Grant’s head.
One drop.
Then another.
Grant felt immediate cold.
Then burning.
His fingers tightened.
“You’re tense.”
“Bad night.”
“I told you not to work after midnight.”
Grant ignored him.
“What exactly are these drops?”
Hale paused.
“You’ve asked before.”
“Humor me.”
“Anti-inflammatory treatment combined with a pressure-control agent.”
“Name?”
The room became still.
Hale chuckled.
“You planning to go to medical school?”
Grant didn’t smile.
“Name.”
“Brimonidine mixture.”
Hannah’s eyes narrowed.
Grant couldn’t see her expression, but he heard the silence.
Hale closed his case.
“Why the sudden curiosity?”
“Five years gives a man time to get bored.”
Hale put a hand on Grant’s shoulder.
“You’re fortunate, Grant.”
Grant’s jaw tightened.
“Fortunate?”
“You survived.”
“My wife and daughter didn’t.”
Hale immediately withdrew his hand.
“Of course.”
Grant heard the mistake.
Hale always knew exactly what to say.
This morning he sounded nervous.
“Thursday next week,” Hale said.
“I’ll be here.”
Hale left.
Daniel entered one minute later.
“Car’s gone.”
Grant stood.
“Hannah?”
She stepped forward.
“That bottle wasn’t commercially labeled.”
“Meaning?”
“It could still be legitimate. Specialists sometimes prepare compounds. But he should have documentation.”
Daniel held out a small vial.
“I switched the bottle while Hale washed his hands.”
Grant turned.
Hannah stared at Daniel.
“You stole medication from a doctor?”
Daniel shrugged.
“I’ve had worse Thursdays.”
At nine thirty that evening, Dr. Amelia Voss entered through the service garage.
No driver.
No assistant.
No announcement.
Grant waited in a private guest suite that had been converted into an examination room.
Amelia was fifty-three and direct.
“You’ve been told there is no possibility of useful vision?”
“Yes.”
“For five years?”
“Yes.”
“And nobody repeated imaging?”
“No.”
She looked at Hannah.
“And the child noticed pupil constriction?”
“Yes.”
Amelia examined Grant for nearly forty minutes.
No promises.
No comforting speeches.
When she finished, she remained silent.
Grant hated silence.
“Say it.”
“I want scans.”
“Say what you’re thinking.”
Amelia removed her gloves.
“I’m thinking someone was either astonishingly incompetent…”
She looked at him.
“…or astonishingly deliberate.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Explain.”
“Grant’s pupils react. There’s retinal activity. His optic nerves show signs of trauma, but his response doesn’t match total irreversible blindness.”
Grant’s throat tightened.
“Can I see?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Can I?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then find out.”
Amelia looked at the stolen vial.
“Hannah said Hale administers this weekly?”
“Yes.”
“For five years?”
“Yes.”
Amelia’s expression changed.
“What?”
“This needs laboratory analysis immediately.”
Grant heard her tone.
“Why?”
“Because whatever is in that bottle produces an unusually strong constriction response and could interfere with visual processing.”
Daniel swore quietly.
Grant stood.
“Could it make someone blind?”
“Certain drugs can suppress visual function or worsen existing neurological conditions. But I will not speculate without testing.”
Grant walked toward the table, counting steps.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then stopped.
“What happens if I stop taking it?”
“We do that under supervision.”
“How long?”
“We may know more within days.”
“Days?”
“You’ve waited five years.”
Grant turned toward her.
“No, Doctor.”
His voice dropped.
“I was robbed for five years.”
Amelia did not argue.
Three days later, the results arrived.
Daniel gathered Grant, Hannah, and Amelia in the locked library.
“What’s in it?” Grant asked.
Amelia answered.
“The bottle contains legitimate anti-inflammatory medication.”
Grant’s face hardened with disappointment.
Then Amelia continued.
“And something else.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“A second compound?”
“Yes.”
“What does it do?”
“In repeated exposure, especially in someone with Grant’s injuries, it could suppress neural transmission involved in visual perception.”
Nobody spoke.
Grant’s voice became almost quiet.
“Hale kept me blind.”
Amelia carefully corrected him.
“We can say the medication could have contributed to your ongoing visual impairment. We cannot yet prove why he gave it.”
Grant faced Daniel.
“I can.”
Daniel understood.
“The explosion.”
Hannah looked between them.
“What about it?”
Grant’s voice changed.
“The official story said a fuel line ruptured at Pier 17.”
“It didn’t?” Hannah asked.
“No.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Grant believed someone planted the explosive.”
“I knew someone did.”
“Why didn’t you investigate?”
“I did.”
Grant’s mouth became bitter.
“For six months.”
“And?”
“The evidence disappeared.”
Hannah’s eyes widened.
Grant continued.
“Security footage. Maintenance logs. Shipping records.”
Amelia looked at him.
“All vanished?”
“All of it.”
“Who controlled your medical decisions during those six months?”
Grant didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
Daniel said the name.
“Hale.”
A knock sounded.
Everyone froze.
Then Lucy’s voice came through the door.
“Mommy?”
Hannah opened it.
Lucy stood holding her yellow flashlight.
“Sorry.”
She looked at Grant.
“Can Mr. Grant play light again?”
Nobody laughed this time.
Grant slowly crouched in front of her.
“Lucy.”
“Yes?”
“Do the circles still move?”
She clicked on the flashlight.
Amelia nearly stopped her.
Grant lifted one hand.
“Let her.”
Lucy pointed the light.
Her little face became serious.
Then she smiled.
“Yep.”
Grant swallowed.
“Good.”
Lucy clicked it off.
Grant stood.
“Daniel.”
“Yes?”
“Find out everything Hale did the week of the explosion.”
“And Hale?”
Grant faced the window he had not seen in five years.
May you like
“We let him believe I’m still blind.”
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