“With all due respect, Dr. Mercer, they don’t have the context. These children are all from the same town, experiencing the same set of symptoms we can’t identify the cause of. This is more than just coincidence or a bad flu season.”
He sighs, setting down his pen. “Look, I understand your concern, and it’s admirable. But sometimes in medicine, we have to accept that not every medical mystery is one we can personally solve. The hospital team are experts, leave it to them. These children are already getting the best care possible.”
I bite my tongue to keep from saying something I’ll regret. Dr. Mercer’s sympathy feels rehearsed, empty. He doesn’t actually care about solving this—he just wants it off his plate.
“What about Maya?” I press. “Her mother is bringing her in today because her symptoms have only gotten worse. Am I supposed to tell them there’s nothing we can do?”
“I suppose writing them a referral to Anchorage won’t suffice for you.” At the expression on my face, he glances at his watch with an annoyed sigh. “Then by all means, continue your investigation. I have a wilderness rescue coming in—hiker with a possible spinal injury. That’s where I need to focus right now, and I wrongfully assumed that was the sort of case you came here to see.”
And there it is. The adrenaline cases, the dramatic rescues—those are what interest him. Not the slow, methodical work of diagnosing a mysterious illness affecting children.
“I understand,” I say, jaw tightening enough to make my teeth ache. “I’ll keep you updated on Maya’s condition.”
“Do that,” he replies with a tight smile. “Pediatrics is a good fit for the soft-hearted. You may want to consider that before you settle permanently into a specialty.”
Before I can decide how to respond, Mercer is already walking away. I stand there for a moment, chart clutched to my chest, feeling frustrated and alone.
No. Not alone. I have Noah.
I find him in the medical library, bent over an open journal. He looks up when I enter, his expression softening at whatever he sees on my face.
“You heard about Emma?” he asks.
I nod, dropping into the chair across from him. “Mercer basically told me to let Anchorage handle it.”
His smile is faint. “And you disagree.”
“Of course I disagree!” The words burst out louder than I intended. “Sorry. It’s just—we’re missing something. These kids are getting sicker, and nobody seems to care except me.”
Noah closes the journal and faces me fully, giving me his full attention. “I care.”
The simple statement hits me like a wave of warmth. Through our bond, I feel his sincerity—and beneath it, his own worry.
“Help me figure this out?” I ask.
“Always.” He pushes aside the files he was working on. “Let’s get back to basics. What do we know for certain?”
I open my notebook, flipping through the pages filled with my hasty scribbles. “Four children have been sick enough to be seen at the clinic multiple times in the last two weeks. You already know about Emma and Evan Frost, I saw Maya Calloway last week and now Owen Barton.
“Ages?”
“The twins are eight. Owen is ten. Maya is twelve.”
“And the symptoms?”
I tick them off on my fingers. “Initial presentation included fever, vomiting, joint pain, headaches, and a distinctive rash. Secondary symptoms developed within days—metallic taste in the mouth, tremors, cognitive changes including confusion and memory issues.”
“And now seizures and coma, at least for Emma,” Noah adds, frowning.
“The blood work shows elevated white counts, but cultures are negative for bacterial infection. Liver enzymes are slightly elevated. No response to broad-spectrum antibiotics.”
Noah stands, pacing the small lab. “If it’s not infectious, and it’s not autoimmune based on the markers we tested, what are we left with?”
“Environmental toxin?” I venture. “I briefly considered a pesticide or something, but the kids live in different parts of town.”
Noah stops pacing, his eyes meeting mine. “Or heavy metals.”
The pieces click together in my mind, a diagnostic puzzle finally taking shape. “It could be. The metallic taste. The neurological symptoms. The gradual onset.” I flip through my notes frantically. “Tremors, headaches, joint pain—it fits!”
