At the same time, this was insanely risky. Hypnodorm, I assumed, would only wreck memories formed after it was in his system. He wouldn’t remember the daughter, but he might very well remember me giving him these pills. That might be the last thing he remembered, actually. I had no idea what the mother wanted her girl to get from him, but all I could do was hope he was too drunk to connect it to this moment.

I opened the bottle, dumped the pills into my hand, and then quickly put it away. I was worried he might get it in his head to read the label. I held them out for him. “I bring them to parties in case I overdo it. A couple of these babies and I’m good to drive.”

This was pure fantasy. Activated charcoal didn’t absorb alcohol.

“They really work?”

“Sure,” I said. “I mean, it isn’t a miracle or anything, but they’ll undo a couple of drinks.”

I could see a faint shaking in my hand. I hoped he wouldn’t notice.

Spence was interested. “I take three?”

God, I didn’t want to hurt him. Roofies could interact with alcohol. Dangerously. Google had said so.

I said, “I usually take two.”

I almost whispered it, hiding the words under the moan of the distant cello, in case the daughter was nearby. She might be hiding in the curvy paths of the Orchid Center, waiting to take Spence in hand. I said it as a sop to guilt, even as I rendered him helpless for a woman who wished him ill. And truthfully, I would have done much worse than this to Spence. To anyone. To save Robert.

“Yeah, but you weigh what? A buck-twenty?” He grabbed all three out of my hand and popped them into his mouth, then washed them down with the dregs of his drink.

I was instantly so relieved it made me dizzy. I felt myself sway, putting one hand on an arch to steady myself.

“Easy there, hon!” he said, smiling. “Maybe you needed those pills.”

I smiled back, light-headed. I had obeyed, fully, and whatever happened now, my part was finished. I would get Robert back. She had promised. I was woozy with joy and a thousand other, fainter feelings: guilt and worry and mistrust and a sick, sick fear.

I said, “I took a Lyft here, no worries.”

He smiled. “Then you can drink that Pappy. I’m jealous, but I need to go butter some clients. I haven’t so much as said hello to the Clausens, and you better believe I will hear about it from Jim Astor if they escape before I do.” He turned to go, lumbering up the narrow path. At the turn he paused. “Thanks, Bree. You and Trey, you always have my back.”