The woman subbing for Eleanor ought to be able to handle the simple paperwork, but if he wanted to keep the identity of their suspect under wraps that wouldn’t work.

He’d have to do this himself.

He put the car in gear, aimed it toward the office, and called the judge. Getting him briefed and onboard was imperative.

That task completed, he punched in Deke’s number and brought him up to speed. “I’ll want backup at Eleanor’s house once I have the warrant in hand.”

“Understood. After I book our shotgun-wielding charm-school dropout, I can join you.” A beat ticked by. “You think this is on the level with Eleanor?”

“Sadly, yes. If we miss each other at the office, I’ll text you en route to her house.”

“Got it.”

As soon as he ended the call, he phoned Grace. Her message about having news had been brief, but he was willing to bet whatever she had to tell him wasn’t going to come anywhere close to his bombshell.

She answered two rings in as he barreled down the state highway.

“Sorry I had to let your call roll.” He frowned at a slow-moving tractor lumbering down the road ahead. “We were in the midst of a tense standoff with an armed subject.”

“No worries. That takes precedence over my news. You okay?”

“Yeah. No shots were fired. I have news too.”

“Can I go first?”

“Sure.”

“My suspicion was correct. Our victims were poisoned.”

In light of what he’d learned about Eleanor, that wasn’t surprising—but as Grace gave him the lowdown on the toxicity of English yew, the cunning choice of weapon blew him away.

“I’d never have guessed that in a million years.” He whipped around the tractor.

“No one would. Not without anecdotal evidence pointing that direction.”

“Or a smart pathologist who homed in on plant poisons and enlisted the help of a forensic botanist to prove her suspicions.”

“I got lucky. If it hadn’t been for those red-herring sunflower seeds, I would never have pursued that angle.”

“More than luck was involved here.” A muted ping came over the line. “What’s that?”

“My lunch. This is my third attempt to eat it, but I keep getting interrupted. Hard as I’ve tried, I haven’t made much headway.”

“You want to get it while I share my news?”

“No. To tell you the truth, my stomach’s queasy again. I’m not certain any food would stay down, even the soup Eleanor delivered earlier. You’re not the only one who’s in her favor, it seems.”

For the second time in less than fifteen minutes, shock reverberated through him and his own stomach twisted into a hard knot.

Dear God.

If Eleanor was BK, she was also the one behind the attacks on Grace. She was the shadowy figure who’d hired Tyler Holmes. Who wanted the meticulous, persistent forensic pathologist out of the picture. Permanently.

Nate hit the siren, executed a U-turn, and floored the cruiser.

“Nate? What’s going on?”

“We need to stay calm.” The reminder was as much for himself as for her.