There was nothing to do now but accept the inevitable. I watched carefully as Gaynor’s eyes flicked left and right on the page. This was it: the truth, at last, coming to light. The names of obscure poisons, copied from the apothecary’s register; random dates and names scribbled in the margins of the page, none of which Gaynor and I had researched together at the library; and, of course, the most incriminating line of all: Quantities of non-poisons needed to kill.

This was, I knew, the beginning of the end for our friendship. Gaynor would deny helping me with this level of research; any sane person would. Her confusion would only throw further doubt on my story in the eyes of the police, and that would be the end of it for me. I sat motionless, awaiting the cold, hard metal that would soon snap around my wrists.

Gaynor took a long, shaky breath and gazed at me, as though she meant to communicate something with just her eyes. But my own were welling quickly with tears, and my remorse was such that I almost wanted to be taken away in handcuffs. I wanted out of this goddamned room, away from the disappointed faces of these officers and my new friend.

Gaynor reached into her bag. “Yes, I can validate all of this research.” She pulled out her wallet, then withdrew a card. Handing it to one of the officers, she said, “Here’s my employee card. I can confirm that Caroline’s been to the library twice in recent days to research the apothecary, and I can request the camera footage if it’s needed for your investigation.”

I could hardly believe it. Gaynor had come to my defense, even after surely understanding there was something I hadn’t yet told her. I gaped at her, my body going limp in the chair. But I couldn’t offer an explanation yet, or even say thank you. That, by itself, would seem suspicious.

The officer at the table ran his thumb over Gaynor’s employee card as though checking the expiration and validity of it. Satisfied, he tossed it onto the table, where it slid several inches. Something buzzed in his pocket, and he withdrew a cell phone.

“Yes?” he said tersely into the device. I could hear a woman’s faint voice on the other end of the line, and the officer’s face hardened. I braced myself for news as he hung up the phone. “Mr. Parcewell would like to see you,” he said, standing from the chair. “We’ll show you to his room.”

“H-he’s okay then?” I stammered.

Gaynor reached again for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I wouldn’t say that quite yet,” the officer replied, “but he’s fully conscious, at least.”