After we’re past this nightmare.And when will that be? Weeks from now? Months?
Hardly conscious of what I’m doing, I set Bella on thefloor and check the dining room to make certain Hannah’s not lurking in there and listening in on us, then turn back to my sisters-in-law. “We can’t afford to wait,” I tell them. “We have to actnow. Before someone else gets hurt.”
“What do you mean, Summer?” Wendy asks. “What’s going on?”
I take a deep breath. “Okay, you’re going to think I’m insane, but bear with me. I’m pretty sure Hannah killed Claire.”
Keira gasps and Wendy’s lips part in surprise, then both women listen in stunned silence as I spill it all: the confrontation with Claire that Henry overheard, the missing foxgloves, the lost jug, the symptoms of digitalis poisoning that Claire presented on Sunday, the fact that Hannah knew the plant was poisonous, the foxglove blossom in my drawer, the newly planted foxgloves.
“I know the individual details don’t seem like much,” I continue, “but when you add them up, the result is impossible to ignore.”
Neither of them says anything. Without warning, I feel myself choke up.
“Please,” I nearly beg, “I need someone to believe me. We can’t let Hannah get away with murder.”
Wendy rises from the table and crosses to me, then touches my shoulder gently.
“It’s not that we don’t believe you, Summer, but it’s a lot to take in.” She turns toward Keira, who’s still frozen in place by the stove. “What do you think, Keira?”
“I don’t know,” she replies. “I’m not a fan of Hannah’s, but poisoning... It seems so nineteenth century.”
“And that makes it all the more cunning,” I say. “She was clearly counting on the fact that no one would even consider it.”
“But does that mean there are two murderers around here?” Keira asks. “Hannah and the person who killed Jillian?”
“I... I guess so.” It sounds unlikely to me, but if there’s actually onlyonemurderer at large, then what was Hannah’s motive for killing Jillian?
More silence. Even the thunder has ceased. I catch Wendy and Keira shoot nervous side looks at each other.
“Look, Summer,” Wendy says finally. “Why don’t you let me discuss this with Blake? He’s a doctor. He may have a sense of how feasible this could be—and also know what steps we can take to find out more.”
I exhale in what feels like the first time in ten minutes. “That would be so helpful, Wendy,” I tell her. Maybe I should have pushed my conversation with Blake further last night.
A marimba ringtone reverberates faintly from another room.
“That must be mine,” Keira says. “I left it in the hall.”
She hurries from the room, perhaps eager for a chance to escape from me and my lunatic theories.
“Don’t worry,” Wendy says. “Like I said, it’s a lot to digest, but we have your back. Do you have any physical proof whatsoever? Something I can share with Blake?”
“Um, sort of,” I say, and fill her in on what Henry told me earlier and about finding the book.
“Oh wow,” Wendy says, a hand on her chest. “That’s telling. And the book’s there now?”
“Yup.”
She nods. “Okay, I’ll definitely talk to Bl—”
The door opens with a bang. We look over to see Keira, still holding her phone.
“You’re not going to believe this,” she says. “Ash started having trouble breathing on the way home, and they’re in the ER with him.”
“Oh, no,” I exclaim. “Which hospital?”
“It’s about halfway between here and Princeton. The doctor doesn’t think it’s serious. Just stress, maybe the start of a panic attack.”
What if Hannah’s done something toAshas well?
