Chapter 4: What Preston Told Her Sister
Carol arrived forty minutes later, still wearing her coat from outside, her face tight with the effort of staying calm.
She sat in the chair beside the bed, took Madeline's hand, and listened without interrupting while Madeline told her everything — the milk, the bottle, Poppy's words, the detective, the evidence bag, the irregular markers, the phone call Preston had made before Madeline even knew Carol existed in this story.
When Madeline finished, Carol was quiet for a moment.
"What did he say to you?" Madeline asked.
"When he called."
"He said you'd had a fall.
That you were being checked over but you were fine.
That there was no need to come." Carol's jaw tightened.
"He said you'd probably be home by evening."
"He called you to keep you away."
"Yes." Carol said it flatly.
No hesitation.
"That's exactly what he did."
Madeline looked at the window.
The afternoon light had shifted to something gray and thin.
"How long has Serena been in his life?" Carol asked.
"He hired her two years ago.
She started coming around about eight months after that."
"And you never —"
"I suspected.
I told myself I was wrong." Madeline turned back to her sister.
"I wanted to be wrong."
Carol squeezed her hand and said nothing.
That was worse, somehow, than any response she could have given.
The door opened.
A doctor Madeline hadn't seen before stepped in, tablet in hand, a measured expression on his face.
"Mrs.
Madeline.
I'm Dr.
Okafor.
I've been reviewing your bloodwork." He pulled a chair over and sat, which told Madeline this was not a brief conversation.
"The second panel confirmed what we saw in the first.
You have elevated levels of a sedative compound in your system.
It's not something you would have taken accidentally, and it's not consistent with any medication in your records."
The room went very still.
"What compound?" Carol asked.
"We're still identifying the exact formulation.
It's not a common prescription.
It acts quickly, which is consistent with your account of how fast you lost consciousness." He looked at Madeline.
"Do you have any idea how it might have entered your system?"
"The milk," Madeline said.
"Someone put it in the warm milk."
Dr.
Okafor nodded slowly.
"I've already been in contact with Detective Ruiz.
She'll want to speak with you again once you've had some rest." He stood.
"We're keeping you overnight for observation.
You're not in danger now, but I want to be certain the compound has fully cleared."
He left.
Carol stood up from her chair and walked to the window.
Her back was to Madeline, but Madeline could see her shoulders and the way they were working to hold something in.
"Carol."
"Give me a second."
"Carol, look at me."
Her sister turned around.
Her eyes were bright.
"He dr*gged you, Madeline.
In your own home.
With your daughter in the next room."
"I know."
"And then he called me to make sure I didn't come."
"I know."
"And then he took the bottle —" Carol stopped.
Pressed her fingers to her mouth.
Breathed.
"He was going to destroy the evidence.
If Poppy hadn't said something —"
"But she did," Madeline said.
"She did say something."
They looked at each other across the room.
"I need a lawyer," Madeline said.
"Before Preston gets back from that station.
Before he has time to build whatever story he's building."
Carol was already reaching for her phone.
"I know someone.
She's good.
She's fast." She found the contact and looked up.
"What about Poppy?
Where is she now?"
Madeline looked at the small dent in the pillow beside her where her daughter had been lying before the nurse took her to the family waiting area.
"She's safe," Madeline said.
"For now."
Carol dialed.
Outside in the corridor, a phone buzzed against a hard surface.
Madeline heard it through the gap in the door.
She heard the voice that answered it — low, quick, controlled.
May you like
Preston was back.
And he was standing just outside her room.
