“And of course, how does the killer know the person is going to take the exact medication or even a food that has the sharp objects? They’d have to be close to the person, very close.”

“But isn’t that the case with food as well?” She asks but she doesn’t wait for an answer. “Pills make more sense than food. And she had the ibuprofen in her system.”

“In other words, we need an expert in pharmaceuticals to walk us through the mechanics, equipment needed, and so on.”

She holds up a gloved finger. “Which is why I have a call into an old college friend. Her father is CEO of a drug company. I’ll find out what we need to know.”

“Well then, DD the model, I’m slightly impressed.”

“How impressed do you have to be to call me Danica?”

“More than humanly possible,” I assure her. “I still don’t trust you.”

“At least you’re honest. I’d rather you say it to my face than behind my back.”

“Well as long as you’re pleased, DD,” I say sarcastically, but really, truly for me, that’s kind of nice. “When are you opening her up?”

“I have to deal with an incoming. It’s going to be a while, but you’re welcome to stick around.”

I might be able to stab monsters to death, but I can do without the rest of this process. “Just call me after. Unless you have more for me now, I’m done here.” I’m already headed toward the door.

I pass through the lobby and step into the hallway, replaying the crime scene in my head. Emma Wells. The dress. The bottle of water. Fake Naomi at our house. Too easily she was in our house and her connection to us originated with Kane. I snag my phone and punch his auto-dial. He doesn’t answer. “Damn it,” I murmur, “not now, Kane.” I shoot him a text message: Emma Wells ingested something that cut her from the inside out. We don’t know how or what yet, but I don’t like how easily Fake Naomi got to us. I also don’t like that it came through your contacts. Be careful.

By the time I’m in the elevator, he hasn’t answered.

I rejoin Jay in the Escalade and still, Kane hasn’t answered.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Worry is a poison. It gets you nowhere but insanity. I’ve got enough to push my boundaries on the sanity issue. I’m not adding a worthless emotion.

Jay pulls us onto the highway on our way to the airport and I dial Kane again. He doesn’t answer. Now I’m worried. “Damn you, Kane,” I murmur, and glance at Jay. “Have you talked to Kane?”

“Not since we dropped him off,” he says. “Is there a problem?”