Chapter 2
I stared at Malcolm, certain I had misunderstood him.
“Mark owed you money?”
Malcolm walked toward the window and pulled the curtain aside.
Rain streaked the glass.
“Your husband owes a lot of people money.”
“How much?”
“To me?”
He turned.
“One hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
My mouth went dry.
I thought I had already discovered the worst of Mark’s debts.
I had been wrong.
“What does the sedative have to do with that?”
Malcolm studied me.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“Then stand.”
He poured water into a plastic cup.
I didn’t touch it.
“A few months ago, Mark came to me desperate.”
“For another loan?”
“At first.”
Malcolm smiled bitterly.
“I said no.”
“What happened?”
“He offered me something else.”
“The drug?”
“Yes.”
My hands clenched.
“He stole medicine from his hospital?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“He altered inventory records.”
I thought of Mark sitting at our dining table late at night with his work laptop.
He always said he was catching up.
“Why would you buy it?”
Malcolm’s face hardened.
“I had a problem.”
“A man who owed you money.”
“Yes.”
“You said you wanted to kill him.”
“I said that because Mark believed it.”
I stared.
“You lied to him?”
“I wanted to see how far he was willing to go.”
Nothing made sense.
“Why?”
“Because Mark was no longer just gambling.”
I waited.
Malcolm continued.
“He was stealing from people who do not forgive theft.”
My chest tightened.
“What people?”
“Private games. High-dollar games.”
“Criminals?”
“Some.”
“And you?”
His eyes met mine.
“I am not a good man, Mrs. Bennett.”
At least he admitted it.
“But I have never poisoned a child.”
Emma’s face flashed through my mind.
“Did Mark?”
Malcolm shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
“Then why did you call me?”
“I didn’t.”
I froze.
“You weren’t the anonymous caller?”
“No.”
“Who was?”
“I have an idea.”
“Who?”
“Rachel.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“My sister?”
“You think your sister lends eighty thousand dollars without asking questions?”
I stepped toward him.
“Rachel helped Mark because he was family.”
“Rachel helped Mark because she expected something in return.”
“What?”
Malcolm hesitated.
“That is what you need to ask her.”
I hated the way everyone spoke in pieces.
“Tell me everything.”
He laughed quietly.
“Your family already knows everything. They simply made sure you didn’t.”
I turned toward the door.
Malcolm spoke again.
“There’s one more thing.”
I stopped.
“The vial police found in Mark’s car.”
“What about it?”
“He didn’t keep the medication in vials.”
I slowly faced him.
“What?”
“I bought doses in sealed syringes.”
My heart pounded.
“How do you know?”
“Because I purchased them.”
“So the vial wasn’t his?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“That somebody wanted police to find something obvious.”
I left immediately.
Detective Harris was waiting downstairs.
I told him everything.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he asked:
“Did Malcolm admit intending to harm anyone?”
“He said he told Mark that.”
“But claimed it was a test.”
“Yes.”
Harris wrote something.
“Do you believe him?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
I didn’t trust Malcolm.
But I no longer trusted anyone.
At the hospital, Emma was awake.
She looked tiny against the pillows.
“Mommy.”
I rushed to her.
“How do you feel?”
“Tired.”
I kissed her forehead.
She smelled like hospital soap.
“Do you remember the party?”
She nodded.
“Some.”
“What do you remember drinking?”
“Lemonade.”
“Who gave it to you?”
Her eyes shifted toward the door.
I followed her gaze.
Rachel stood there.
My sister smiled softly.
“Hey, birthday girl.”
Emma’s fingers tightened around mine.
It was subtle.
But I felt it.
Rachel came closer.
“I brought your coloring book.”
Emma turned her head away.
Rachel noticed.
Her smile disappeared.
“What’s wrong?”
Emma whispered:
“I don’t want it.”
Rachel looked at me.
“She’s exhausted.”
Maybe.
But I remembered Rachel’s expression when Emma collapsed.
Satisfied.
I stood.
“Rachel, can we talk outside?”
She followed me.
The moment the door closed, I asked:
“Why did you lend Mark eighty thousand dollars?”
Her face changed.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Because he begged.”
“What did he promise you?”
“Nothing.”
“Malcolm says otherwise.”
Her eyes widened.
“You met Malcolm?”
There it was.
Recognition.
“How do you know him?”
“I don’t.”
“You knew the name.”
Rachel crossed her arms.
“Mark mentioned him.”
“When?”
“A while ago.”
“You never told me Mark was gambling.”
“He made me promise.”
“You chose his secret over me?”
“He was your husband.”
“And I’m your sister.”
She looked away.
I stepped closer.
“Did you call me anonymously?”
“No.”
“Did you put that vial in Mark’s car?”
Her head snapped up.
“Are you insane?”
“Did you?”
“No!”
A nurse passed.
Rachel lowered her voice.
“You’re accusing the wrong person.”
“Then help me.”
“I already told police what happened.”
“You told them Mark stood beside you.”
“He did.”
“Did he touch Emma’s cup?”
“Yes.”
“You said he moved it.”
“He did.”
“Did you leave the kitchen?”
Rachel hesitated.
My skin prickled.
“How long?”
“Maybe a minute.”
“Where?”
“To get napkins.”
“Was Mark still there?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“I wasn’t watching him every second.”
I stared at her.
For the first time, Rachel seemed nervous.
That evening, Detective Harris pulled security footage from the camera over our back patio.
It did not show the kitchen directly.
But it showed people entering and leaving through the patio door.
At 4:12 p.m., Rachel walked outside.
At 4:13, Mark followed.
They argued near the grill.
At 4:15, Rachel returned indoors.
Mark remained outside for another six minutes.
Emma drank the lemonade at approximately 4:17.
Which meant Mark could not have put anything in her cup during those minutes.
Someone else had been in the kitchen.
Harris compiled the guest list.
My parents.
Three neighbors.
Six children.
Rachel’s boyfriend, Daniel.
And Rachel.
“Could the drug have been added earlier?” I asked.
“Possibly.”
“But?”
Harris hesitated.
“We examined the pitcher.”
My heart accelerated.
“No sedative.”
“What?”
“Only Emma’s cup was contaminated.”
Somebody had targeted my daughter.
Not the party.
Not the family.
Emma.
I returned to her room.
She was drawing.
I sat beside her.
“Baby, I need to ask something.”
She nodded.
“After Aunt Rachel made your drink, did anyone touch your cup?”
Emma kept coloring.
Then she stopped.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Her little face tightened.
“Daddy.”
My stomach dropped.
“What did Daddy do?”
“He took it.”
“Where?”
“To the garage.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Why?”
Emma looked confused.
“He said he was fixing my surprise.”
“What surprise?”
She reached beneath her pillow.
Then she pulled out a folded piece of paper.
A child’s drawing.
Our house.
Me.
Emma.
Mark.
And Rachel.
But Rachel was drawn standing beside Mark.
Their hands touching.
May you like
Above them, Emma had written three shaky words.
Daddy kissed Auntie.
