I stared at her dumbfounded.
Emily's red eyebrows pulled together. "His medicine cabinet is kept locked." She looked at me accusingly. "At least, it's supposed to be."
"I keep it locked, just as you told me to," I said, starting out of the room to see for myself. "Besides, there was nothing on the sink when I washed up Patrick."
I stopped at the bathroom's marble transom. There was now-a half-empty bottle. I had been in a hurry to clean him up and get him in bed, but surely I would have noticed it.
I returned to the room. "I don't know how that bottle got there."
"How much of the medicine did you drink, Patrick?" Adrian asked wearily.
"None."
"Tell the truth."
I am!"
"Did Ashley dare you to take some?" I asked.
"Kate," Emily pleaded.
"Who is Ashley?" Dr. Whelan asked.
Emily sighed. "Patrick's imaginary playmate."
"Did she?" I persisted.
Patrick shook his head no.
I turned to Adrian. He met my eyes, but I couldn't read his gaze — he didn't want me to.
"Dr. Whelan," I said, "is it possible that Patrick ate something that was poisonous enough to make him sick and, if he had eaten more, could have killed him?"
The physician studied me, the lines in her softly weathered face deepening. "There are an endless number of poisons, some more potent than others, some more deadly in a higher dosage. Why do you ask?"
"Are some tasteless?" I persisted. "Some odorless?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Because I don't think Patrick drank any cough syrup. And as it happens, that raspberry pie-the entire piece, not two bites-was intended for me."
Dr. Whelan glanced at Adrian.
"When you have finished examining Patrick, we will discuss matters downstairs in my office," he said.
"I'm done," she told him.
"Emily?" He held out his hand for his wife. "Kate, would you mind staying with Patrick until he is asleep?"
He was not allowing me to talk further with the doctor. What was he afraid of-that I would give her even more reason to question the situation she found at Mason's Choice?
"I'm staying with him all night," I replied.
The doctor rewashed her hands and accompanied Adrian and Emily downstairs. Patrick resumed looking at the illustrations in his old book. I sensed he didn't want me sitting on his bed reading to him, so I pulled a chair next to it and sat quietly.
"I didn't have any medicine, Kate," he said, looking up from the book. "And Ashley didn't dare me."
"I know, Patrick."
I knew that flesh-and-blood hands had tainted the pie and unlocked the medicine cabinet. Whether by poisoning or by framing, someone was desperate to get rid of me. After twelve years, someone's nerves were starting to fray, and I was pretty sure it was Ashley's killer.
I spent the night on Patrick's bedroom floor, getting more rest when I wasn't asleep, for in my dreams I ran continually, searching for Patrick, all the while being chased by someone or something I couldn't see. It was a relief when the alarm clock rang.
Patrick ate all of his breakfast and wanted to go to school. Emily was uncertain about sending him, but Adrian was pleased and praised him repeatedly for being "a strong boy," which made me wince. While Patrick waited for Emily to finish a note to his teacher, I went out to get the car. I stepped into a soft gray day, the warm air and melting snow blanketing the land with fog.
"Good morning."
"Sam!" I exclaimed, startled to see him leaning against his car in the Westbrooks' driveway.
I got home too late to call you back," he said.
"Your mother told me you were out."
"She told me that she gave you Sara's number." He cocked his head. "Why didn't you call?"
"I didn't want to interrupt anything."
"Anything like what?" he asked, laughing.
"Anything."
He moved closer, examining my face, his own becoming more serious. "You don't look like you got a lot of sleep."
"Right you are, Sherlock."
"What happened?" He opened the front door on the passenger side of his car. "Have a seat here in my office. Talk, Kate."
I sat sideways, keeping my feet outside the car, and told him about the poisoning of November, the dessert intended for me, and the sudden appearance of the cough syrup.
"I think Adrian is losing faith in me," I concluded, lapsing into silence. I was more tired than I had realized.
Sam's verbal explosions woke me up. His eyes flashed and he kicked the tires of his car. "You've got to leave, Kate. Do you hear me?"
"I hear you. I can't."
"You've got to!"