Chapter 6 - The Digital Clock
A second patrol unit pulled into the lot, driven by my partner, Officer Marcus Vance. He stepped out of his car, adjusting his utility belt, his eyes taking in the broken glass, the ambulance pulling away with its lights flashing, and the distraught woman sitting on the curb with her head in her hands.
"What do we have, John?" Marcus asked, walking over to the navy sedan.
"Child left in a hot car," I replied, pointing to the broken driver's window. "Temp inside was easily over one-twenty. Infant was unresponsive when I made entry. EMS just transported her to County General."
Marcus sighed, a heavy, angry sound, and shook his head. "How long?"
"Mother claims two minutes," I said. "Paramedics estimate half an hour. I need you to step into the pharmacy, talk to the manager, and pull the security footage from the front entrance and the register checkout. Get the exact timestamp when she walked in."
"On it," Marcus said, pulling his recorder from his belt and heading toward the double glass doors.
I walked over to the sidewalk where Amanda was sitting. She had her knees pulled up to her chest, her expensive red handbag sitting in the dirt beside her sandals. She was sobbing quietly, her body shaking with every breath.
"Amanda," I said, leaning down so I was at eye level with her. "I need your full name, date of birth, and driver's license."
She looked up at me, her eyes red-rimmed and filled with a mixture of terror and shame. "Is she going to be all right? Please, officer, tell me the truth. Is my baby going to die?"
"She's in good hands with EMS," I said neutrally. "Her temperature was very high, but she was conscious and breathing when they loaded her. Now I need your identification."
She reached into her purse with trembling fingers, pulled out a floral print wallet, and handed me her license. "Amanda Miller. Twenty-eight. Her name is Clara... she's eight months old."
"Why was Clara left in the vehicle, Amanda?"
"I... I came to pick up my blood pressure medication," she stammered, wiping her nose with the back of her wrist. "Clara was sleeping in the back. She'd been crying all morning because she's teething, and she finally fell asleep right as I pulled into the lot. I didn't want to wake her up... I thought... I thought if I just ran in, grabbed the prescription, and came right back out, it wouldn't hurt anything."
"Did you leave the car running?"
"I... I thought I left the accessory power on for the fan," she wept. "I turned the key... I must have turned it all the way off by mistake... I was in a rush... I was so tired..."
Marcus pushed through the pharmacy doors and walked back toward us, holding a small USB flash drive in his gloved hand. His face was grim.
"John," Marcus said, looking down at his notepad. "Manager gave me full access to the entrance feed. Amanda walked through those pharmacy doors at one-fifteen p.m."
I checked my watch. It was two-five p.m.
"Fifty minutes," I said softly, the number cutting through the heat like an ice pick.
Amanda looked up, her mouth opening in horror. "No... no, that's impossible! I was at the counter! I was waiting for the pharmacist to clear the insurance!"
"You were at the cosmetic aisle for twenty minutes," Marcus said, reading directly from the manager's notes. "Then you stood in line at the pharmacy counter. You were in that building for fifty minutes while your car sat in direct sunlight."
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Amanda covered her face with both hands and let out a long, broken wail that sounded like an animal being torn apart.
"Fifty minutes," I repeated, looking down at her. "Your child survived fifty minutes in a sealed vehicle because a stray cat dragged me across four lanes of traffic."
