The Poisoned Cradle and the Mother Who Tried to Steal Our Child
A tear rolled down Megan’s temple and soaked into her hair.
“My mother tried to take her,” I said.
“But the guards stopped her.”
“The police are on their way.”
Megan closed her eyes for a long moment.
“I thought I was going to die, Jake,” she said.
“The tea she made.”
“It tasted like copper.”
I squeezed her hand gently.
“You are going to be okay,” I said.
“The doctors know what she used.”
“They are treating you.”
Two police officers appeared at the door of the ICU room.
One was a woman with her hair pulled back in a tight bun.
The other was an older detective in a gray suit.
“Mr. Miller?” the detective asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“I am Detective Harris.”
“We have your mother in custody downstairs.”
“The security guards handed over the documents she dropped.”
I pulled the folded paper from my back pocket and handed it to him.
“This is the fake power of attorney,” I said.
“She had a forged birth certificate too.”
“She slide it under the counter in the nursery.”