Chapter 8 - THE MORNING I ALMOST HIT A CHILDThree weeks before Chloe stopped my tea, I had driven her to school after drinking a cup Eleanor made.
Halfway there, my vision blurred.
Not darkness.
Softness.
Traffic lights seemed too bright.
At a four-way stop, I failed to see a boy entering the crosswalk.
Chloe shouted:
“Mom!”
I braked.
Hard.
The boy jumped backward.
No contact.
No injury.
He glared at me.
I waved an apology.
Then pulled into a parking lot and cried.
I had told Julian that night.
“I don’t know what happened.”
He said:
“You’ve been exhausted.”
Eleanor was in the kitchen.
She heard.
She brought me tea.
“For your nerves.”
I drank it.
That memory made me physically ill.
Whether the earlier tea contained sedative was not proven by a preserved sample.
But my calendar showed the episode happened on a morning Eleanor had prepared breakfast.
Inference.
Not fact.
Detective Sara Keene wrote it down as possible pattern evidence.
She did not call it proof.
I wanted her to.
She refused.
May you like
Good detective.
Infuriating woman.
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