Chapter 63 Medicine Treats Illness, Not Crime
Ryan had intended to quietly explain his findings to Whitmore and let the older physician do the talking. But Whitmore’s startled response had drawn every eye in the room.
There was no staying out of it now.
“That’s right. This isn’t an ordinary illness. Someone infected him with a curse parasite.”
Ryan didn’t want the attention, but the little boy was innocent. As someone trained in medicine, he couldn’t simply ignore his suffering.
More importantly, Ryan understood the Spiral Needle bloodletting technique Harding had proposed. It was a sophisticated method.
It was also the wrong treatment.
Before Harrington could respond, Harding sneered.
“A curse parasite? Young man, have you been reading too many fantasy novels? There’s no such thing. Those stories are nothing but poisonous insects exaggerated into supernatural nonsense.”
Harrington turned to Whitmore.
“Who is he?”
“This is Ryan Carter,” Whitmore said, a little awkwardly. “His medical skills far exceed mine.”
Harrington frowned, openly skeptical.
Ryan was simply too young.
Harding gave a derisive laugh.
“Is this what you’ve come to, Arthur? Parlor tricks? If you’re trying to make a name for this boy, at least give him a believable diagnosis. A curse parasite? Has he ever even seen one?”
Harrington studied Ryan with a piercing gaze.
“Dr. Carter, is it? Which hospital or clinic do you practice at?”
“I’m trained in medicine,” Ryan replied evenly. “But I don’t work as a doctor.”
“Then what do you do for a living?”
Ryan paused.
“I lead a sales team at a medical equipment company.”
“You sell medical equipment?” Harding scoffed. “At least you admit it. Have you gotten so used to deceiving customers that you think you can try it on Mr. Harrington?”
Harrington ignored him.
“Why do you believe this is a parasite?”
“I believe it’s a Bloodfire parasite,” Ryan said. “A microscopic creature that lives inside blood vessels. It secretes a substance that acts something like a hormone.”
He glanced toward the crying boy.
“That secretion is mildly toxic. As it enters the bloodstream, it produces symptoms resembling excess internal heat. The more it builds up, the worse the itching and stabbing pains become. The toxin won’t kill him outright, but it damages his organs as it circulates.
His brain is especially vulnerable. Eventually, the damage will leave him with severe cognitive disabilities. ”
Harrington’s expression shifted.
The explanation was frightening.
“What led you to that conclusion?”
Ryan pointed to the boy’s right arm.
“See these tiny red spots? They have a purplish tint, and each one sits over a blood vessel. Those marks show where the parasite entered.”
Everyone examined the line of tiny marks, their expressions doubtful.
They looked more like ordinary insect bites or skin irritation.
Harding glanced at them and snorted.
“Nonsense! What insect is small enough to burrow through skin, enter a blood vessel, and survive there? You’re scaremongering. Besides, he’s not even two years old. Who would do something like that to him?”
Harrington kept his eyes on Ryan.
“Do you have any other evidence?”
Ryan gave a faint smile.
“I can tell you what’s wrong with him. Finding out who did it is a different matter.”
Harrington nodded, then turned to his secretary.
“Please show Dr. Whitmore and Dr. Carter out.”
Whitmore stepped forward, alarmed.
“Mr. Carter is an exceptional physician. He wouldn’t say this without good reason. Please, Mr. Harrington. Your grandson’s safety is at stake.”
Ryan caught Whitmore’s arm.
“You can’t help someone who refuses your help. Let’s go.”
Whitmore understood what he meant, but he sighed.
“The boy hasn’t done anything wrong. He can’t speak for himself.”
Ryan had reached the doorway. At those words, he stopped.
“Bloodletting with the Spiral Needle Method won’t help. It may make him worse. Within a day of treatment, his veins will start to darken. That will mean the toxin is building up.”
He left without another word.
Whitmore breathed a little easier and followed him out.
Ryan had given Harrington something specific to watch for. If the boy’s veins darkened as predicted, Harrington would know there was truth to his diagnosis.
Whitmore was deeply displeased with Harrington’s behavior, but he couldn’t help feeling for a child barely over a year old.
Permanent brain damage?
That would be unbearably cruel, both for the boy and for those who loved him.
If Harrington wanted Ryan’s help after that, he would have to find his own way to ask for it.
Whitmore had come as promised.
His old debt was settled.
They reached the hotel entrance just as the Bennetts and Wallaces were preparing to leave.
Chloe spotted Ryan and hurried over, delighted. She slipped her arm through his without the slightest concern for who might be watching.
Jason watched her cling to Ryan and ground his teeth.
Without waiting for his parents, he climbed into his exotic sports car and roared out of the hotel driveway.
Seething, he called Vince Lawson.
He wanted an answer.
When the hell are you going to kill Ryan?
The call connected, but a woman answered.
“Hello? Who’s calling?”
Jason paused.
“I’m looking for Vince.”
“Vince passed away last night. What did you need to speak to him about?”
Jason’s heart lurched.
He stared at the road.
Vince is dead?