Chapter 3 - The Pediatric Examination
The antiseptic smell of the pediatric wing at Norfolk General Hospital always reminded me of my own basic training—clinical, cold, and designed for efficiency. Eli sat swinging his legs on the crinkly paper of the examination table, clutching his plastic dinosaur while a friendly nurse named Carla handed him a sticker sheet.
Dana Reyes stood by the doorway, arms crossed, watching every move we made.
Ten minutes later, Dr. Aris Thorne walked in. He was a veteran pediatrician with silver-streaked hair and kind, weary eyes that had seen every kind of childhood injury imaginable. He reviewed the digital tablet containing Dana’s preliminary notes and the digital copies of the photographs CPS had brought along.
“Commander Bennett,” Dr. Thorne greeted me with a firm nod before turning his attention to Eli. “Hello there, champ. Mind if I check your reflexes and take a look at your elbows?”
“Only if I get to check yours first,” Eli giggled, holding up his toy dinosaur like a stethoscope.
Dr. Thorne chuckled, playing along expertly while he performed a comprehensive physical examination. He checked Eli’s chest, back, limbs, and joints, gently palpating areas where the photographs allegedly showed suspicious marks. He used a specialized medical light to check for underlying tissue damage, fading contusions, or skeletal trauma.
For thirty agonizing minutes, the room was silent except for Eli’s cheerful chatter and the rustle of medical instruments.
Finally, Dr. Thorne stepped back, tapped the screen of his tablet, and turned to face both Dana Reyes and me.
“Well, Ms. Reyes, I can give you my preliminary findings right now, and I will have a full written report on your desk by morning,” Dr. Thorne said, his tone professional and authoritative.
“What is your assessment, Doctor?” Dana asked, uncrossing her arms.
“The child is in exceptional physical health. His growth metrics are above average, he is well-nourished, and his developmental milestones are entirely appropriate for a five-year-old,” Dr. Thorne stated clearly. “As for the marks depicted in the photographs provided by your agency: they are textbook examples of standard playground trauma. A scraped knee from a bicycle fall, a minor bruise on the shin from a soccer goalpost, and a slight discoloration on the upper arm consistent with falling against a wooden table corner.”
Dana frowned. “Are you certain none of these indicate pattern abuse or intentional strikes?”
Dr. Thorne raised an eyebrow, letting a hint of professional offense color his voice. “I have been practicing pediatric medicine for twenty-four years, Ms. Reyes. I know the difference between an accidental childhood tumble and inflicted trauma. There are no defensive wounds, no skeletal fractures, no bite marks, and no patterns suggesting abuse. Furthermore, the timeline alleged by the reporter—that these bruises appeared simultaneously over a single weekend—is anatomically impossible based on the healing stages of these minor marks.”
A profound wave of relief washed over me, but I kept my face impassigned.
Dana jotted something down on her notepad, her expression tight. “Thank you, Doctor. That report will be crucial for the case file.”
“Will the case be closed immediately?” I asked, stepping forward.
“Not closed, Commander,” Dana replied carefully. “The medical report clears you of physical mistreatment, but the original complaint also alleged unsafe supervision and neglect. Standard procedure requires us to complete a full background review and interview secondary witnesses before an investigation is officially dismissed.”
“Who else is on your witness list?” I asked, though I already knew the answer in my bones.
“The reporting party requested that we speak with your sister, Monica Vance. She stated she has additional records regarding your working hours, your frequent absences due to naval duties, and your home environment.”
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Hearing Monica’s name confirmed my worst suspicions. My own flesh and blood had not only called CPS; she was actively coordinating with them to build a dossier.
“Very well,” I said, my voice dropping an octave into a tone that made Dana flinch slightly. “Let her speak. But make sure you record every word she says under oath, Ms. Reyes. Because when this investigation concludes, there are going to be severe legal consequences for filing a false official report.”
