“I’m in the parking lot. Why?”
“Go back inside. Ask them if they have something called atipamezole. I’m going to text you the spelling. Get a sample, if you can.”
I typed the name of the drug for Frank and sent the message. Then hung up and waited while he spoke to the vet.
Frank called me back. “Okay. I got it in hand. What now?”
“Drive to the University of Florida Health Shands Hospital.”
“No, no, no,” Frank said. “This is canine medication, Gardner. The vet told me.”
Atipamezole was a synthetic drug used for the reversal of sedative and analgesic effects of certain chemical compounds like dexmedetomidine in veterinary medicine. It was sold under the name Antisedan and used on cats, dogs, and horses.
“If Richie was injected with xylazine,” I said, “the drugs they’reusing on him… just like the Narcan I used… it’s not gonna reverse what El Médico put in him.”
Frank’s voice intensified. “And this will?”
“Unknown,” I said, trying to stay calm. “But the doctor reported bradycardia. Respiratory depression. These are all symptoms of xylazine overdose.”
“Has this been tested on humans?”
“In very limited circumstances,” I said. “Sample sizes too small to be considered by the FDA.”
Frank told me he’d head back to the hospital, but didn’t promise to put the atipamezole in the hands of Dr. Carlson.
A half hour later, I saw a text from him, a warning that Richie’s grandfather wanted to speak with me. He’d arrived with a medical power of attorney to act as Richie’s guardian.
Incoming video call. He wants to look you in the eye.
My phone rang, requesting a videoconference. I clicked the button, and up came the image of William Banning, Richie’s grandfather.
“Camden,” he said, his voice gruff.
I thought of a time when I’d hit him in the face as hard as I could. To save a life, of course.
“Sir?”
Banning was a heavyweight in law enforcement, and for a time, the boss to all of us at the FBI.
He didn’t waste time with formalities now.
“I just got out of a meeting with this Dr. Carlson. She consulted the hospital’s toxicology specialist, and they recommended strongly against the use of atipamezole.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “That’s reasonable.”
“But you disagree?”
“Is Richie still in decline?” I asked.
“Decline?” Banning’s voice was deep and self-assured. Yet he seemed to not recognize the word. “This doctor went to her board,” he said. “I spoke to them, too. They have a policy as to medicines not coming from their own pharmacy.”
Right, I thought. Frank couldn’t just show up with something in a vial.
“But if they’re losing the patient,” I said, “as a last resort?”
“They’re leaving that up to me,” Banning said.
And what? Banning was, in turn, asking me?
