“The report said it was safe,” she choked out.
“Because the environmental testers ran an active air sample for twenty minutes while the HVAC system was in standby mode,” I explained, remembering the methodology section of the eighty-page report on the kitchen counter. “They tested for mold spores and formaldehyde. They weren’t testing for high-molecular-weight fragrance carriers because nobody thinks someone has installed an industrial scent generator directly into an air return.”
I pulled out my phone. My hands were steady now, fueled by the cold adrenaline of clarity.
“Who are you calling?” Clara whispered, wiping her face with her sleeve. “The hospital?”
“Dr. Martinez,” I said, naming the pediatric neurologist at the university medical center who had signed off on my home care orders. “I’m telling him to prepare an immediate protocol for organophosphate and lipid-soluble neurotoxin clearance. I’m going to photograph this unit, the serial numbers, and the fluid canister so the toxicologists can contact the chemical manufacturer directly to get the proprietary safety data sheet for this specific formulation.”
