Nathan’s voice hardened.
“So what have they been mixing?”
Thomas pulled out his phone.
“I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
The vendor technician arrived thirty-five minutes later.
A young man named Luis.
Nervous.
Cooperative.
He explained that when he took over the account eight months earlier, the mixing card was already there.
He had been preparing concentrate at roughly one part solution to three parts water.
Far stronger than intended.
Thomas closed his eyes.
Nathan looked dangerous for half a second.
Then I said:
“Don’t decide yet.”
He looked at me.
“Excuse me?”
“It could be
a labeling mistake.”
“It is.”
“It could also be unrelated to the twins.”
He stared at me.
Then nodded once.
Good.
We shut off the east-zone additive system immediately.
Not the ventilation.
The scent system.
Windows opened.
The boys were moved temporarily to guest rooms on another floor.
No one told them they had been “poisoned.”
