“This is a very serious case,” he said.

“We have attempted kidnapping, forgery, and aggravated battery.”

“The state attorney will want to look at the chemical analysis of the tea.”

“And the paint from that crib.”

“We will secure both,” I said.

“The crib is still in our nursery in Pilsen.”

“The tea canister is on the kitchen counter.”

“We will send a team to collect them,” Harris said.

He shook my hand.

“Get some rest,” he said to Megan.

“We will keep a guard at the door.”

“Your mother will not be allowed near this wing.”

After the officers left, I pulled a chair close to Megan’s bed.

I sat down and held her hand.

She fell asleep a few minutes later, her breathing slow and even.

I stayed there all night.

The green numbers on the heart monitor flickered in the dark.

Outside, the Chicago wind rattled the double-pane glass.

It was late October, and the first frost was settling over the city.

The next morning, the doctors let me bring our daughter up to the room.

A nurse wheeled the small bassinet into the ICU.