“What are you giving her?”
“Intravenous physostigmine. You were right to suggest she had been poisoned: We tested for several common botanical toxins and got a hit. I’m going to admit her, and we’ll see how she’s doing in the morning.”
“But she’ll be okay?” Harper asked anxiously.
“I’m guardedly optimistic. She’s in pretty good health, overall, but her age makes me cautious. She doesn’t remember how she ingested it, which isn’t surprising in these cases.Take a look around her house, see if you see anything unusual or out of place that might be the source of the poison.”
“Can we see her?”
“We’re about to take her upstairs. I’d like her to get some rest. The nurses will take good care of her.”
“Please tell her that her son will be here in the morning.”
“Will do. And if you find anything suspicious, bag it up carefully and bring it in for testing. That stuff’s dangerous.”
Bleary-eyed, Harper and Tariq returned to her apartment. The sky was gray and rainy, the dawn barely a glow on the horizon.
“So, I saw a weird text on your phone,” Harper said as they shook the rain off their umbrellas, left them by the door, and hung up their coats. They had driven home in silence, each lost to their own thoughts.
He raised one eyebrow. “At the hospital?”
“Before that. Last night, right before we found Ellen.”
“You were looking at my phone?”
“Sorry—you were asleep, and I wanted to turn the sound off so it wouldn’t bother you. But I accidentally saw the message.”
“It’s okay, Harper. You’re welcome to look at my phone anytime you like.”
“Thanks, I guess. Anyway, Penny texted something about covering up for you, providing you with an alibi.”
He held her gaze. “And?”
Harper hesitated a moment, but then blurted out: “On the ghost tour night, the night we found Delilah, you were late.”
“Really, Harp?”
“And your shirt was dirty.”
“The other day you were asking about me being in Delilah’s will,” said Tariq in a careful tone. “If there’s something you’d like to know, why don’t you just come out and ask?”
Harper felt awful to be entertaining suspicions about Tariq. But she could not stop thinking about how Grant had fooled her for so long, and how easily her father had lied abouteverything. She knew she was a poor judge of character, especially where men were concerned. Could Tariq’s nice-guy act be just that? An act?
“According to Detective Serrano, Delilah left you twenty-five thousand dollars. That’s a lot of money for someone you say you hardly had a relationship with anymore.”
“I don’t know what to say, Harp,” said Tariq, pulling his coat back on. “If you honestly think I’m capable of such a violent act, then you should keep your distance. You’re good at that.”
Harper opened her mouth to speak, wanting to say something, anything, to explain herself. And even though she didn’t really believe Tariq could do such a thing, she wanted him to come out and deny it. But he did not.
Tariq opened the door and grabbed his umbrella. At the last minute he paused and said in a soft voice, “Don’t forget to bolt the door behind me.”
A moment later, Harper heard the sound of his boots on the stairs as he hurried down to the yard, crossing the driveway and heading to his car.
Harper slumped against the door and groaned. That clinched it. She was a bona fide disaster at romance.
What’s worse, she felt like she had just lost her best friend.
Thirty-Three
