The next day, I went to the pharmacy with the capsule.
The pharmacist studied it carefully and then looked up at me with concern.
“This isn’t for blood pressure,” she said. “It’s a sedative. A strong one. You need a prescription to have this.”
My chest tightened. Why would Clara put a sedative in my son’s food? What could she possibly want?
I couldn’t shake the feeling that she had some hidden agenda, and thanks to Daisy, it hadn’t gone any further.
