“Is that a promise?” His intent gaze bored into hers.

She understood what he was asking.

But they both knew that was a promise she couldn’t make. Eleanor’s concoctions had already killed six people. The odds were better for her because she’d eaten less and had gotten medical help early, but there were no guarantees.

“I’ll do my best.”

The paramedics hustled the gurney through the door and took off at a fast clip for the ambulance.

She didn’t see Nate again.

But she prayed he’d honor her request. His presence in St. Louis wasn’t going to determine whether she lived or died. That was in God’s hands at this point.

His presence here, however, could make a huge difference in how the situation with Eleanor was handled.

And whether she survived or not, Grace wanted the woman who’d wreaked havoc on multiple lives to spend the rest of her life behind bars.

Who on earth would come calling in the middle of a Friday afternoon?

As the ding-dong of the doorbell echoed through the house, Eleanor set the sequined cocktail purse beside the open suitcase on her bed and went to find out. A solicitor, she could ignore—but if it was a neighbor, she’d have to answer. Several had seen her arrive home early from work.

She approached the door quietly and peeked through the peephole.

Froze.

Sheriff Cox and Deke were standing on her porch, and their grim demeanors said this wasn’t a social call.

Something was up.

Eleanor backed off a few steps, palm pressed to her chest.

Could they be on to her?

Impossible.

She’d covered her tracks like a pro. Even if they were suspicious, they didn’t have one iota of proof other than today’s soup. But she’d left only a single serving, and that had to be long gone. More than two hours ago, Grace had said she was going to eat it right away. Besides, they had no idea what to look for in her homemade offering, anyway.

And if you weren’t looking for yew, you wouldn’t find it.

The bell rang again, and her pulse ratcheted up.

Could she ignore the summons?

No. That wouldn’t make the problem, whatever it was, go away.

She had to answer.

Just listen to what they have to say, Eleanor. Offer nothing. Feign ignorance if they ask questions. You can handle this.

Yes, she could. After masterfully executing her ingenious plan for all these years, she could win a game of dodgeball with the sheriff.

Squaring her shoulders, she returned to the door and pulled it open. “Sheriff . . . Deke. This is a surprise.” She infused her tone with the appropriate amount of puzzlement. “What can I do for you?”

“We have a search warrant for your house, Eleanor.” The sheriff held it up.

She widened her eyes, faking shock even as her stomach twisted into a hard knot. “Excuse me?”

“Let’s not play games.” Gone was the affable boss who brought her Monday mochas. This was the tough Nate Cox who’d fought shadowy adversaries in the Middle East. Who didn’t give up until he’d routed the enemy. “Grace is being transported by helicopter to St. Louis as we speak. She only ate half the soup. We have the rest.”