Chapter 2: The Emergency Room Diagnosis
Forty-five minutes later, a crime scene technician was swabbing the rim of the pink skincare jar while Officer Miller took my formal statement at the kitchen island.
"The attending physician at the emergency room ran a pH strip across Emma's cheek before they started the neutralizing saline drip," Officer Miller said, looking up from his notepad. "The cream registered at a pH of 13.5. That is highly caustic alkali."
"Lye," I said, gripping the edge of the marble counter until my knuckles turned white. "He mixed lye into a little girl's face cream."
"Why?" Daniel yelled, pacing the length of the kitchen, his hands pulling at his hair. "Why would he do that to his own granddaughter?! She's nine years old! She adores him!"
"He didn't do it to hurt Emma, Daniel," I said quietly.
Daniel stopped pacing and stared at me. "What are you talking about?"
"He did it to destroy me," I said.
I looked at Officer Miller. "Three months ago, Richard tried to take Emma to his hunting cabin in the UP for the weekend. I refused to let her go because last summer, he left her locked inside his truck for two hours outside a tavern in July. When I stood up to him, he told Daniel I was hysterical and controlling."
"I remember," Daniel whispered, shame washing over his face. "I told you to apologize to him to keep the peace."
"He knew Emma wouldn't open that box without asking me first," I told the officer, piecing the twisted logic together. "He wanted me to approve it. He wanted me to tell her it was safe, so when it burned her, the guilt would ruin me—or better yet, he could blame me for letting her put an 'unverified product' on her face."
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Officer Miller's radio crackled on his belt. He stepped away, listening intently to the dispatch operator before returning to the table.
"We just ran Richard Pierce's plates," Miller said grimly. "His truck crossed the county line toll bridge heading north twenty minutes ago. He's running."
