“If you would read through your written statement one more time to make sure it’s an accurate portrayal of the incident as you remember it,” Detective Docherty said. The detective had taken Sarah to a specially equipped video suite. “We wanted to make sure to cover all bases.” Detective Docherty was all business. Her ginger hair had been corralled back into a severe knot at the base of her head. However, Sarah could see rebellious wisps that had escaped their strict confines and created a soft halo around the woman’s stern face that reminded Sarah of images of the pioneers as they crossed the Great Plains in their covered wagons. And for some odd reason, the added humanizing addition of the sprinkling of freckles across Detective Docherty’s nose and dotting the crests of her cheek helped further to put Sarah at ease. There was something very fierce and trustworthy about this woman. There was a gentleness underneath the gruff exterior, a soft underbelly of kindness. Sarah could feel it in her gut, and it was such a blessing, because she hadn’t been able to eat breakfast. The dread of visiting a police station had her stomach in knots. She had felt extremely vulnerable walking up the stairs and through the front doors, as if Kevin would come striding around the corner in full regalia and take her back into custody. “Feel free to make changes if there is anything that needs clarifying”—Detective Docherty, still sitting, rotated her shoulders as if she had worked out too hard and was feeling the effects—“to include any additional details or redact anything that is incorrect.”

Sarah read over her statement. “It’s fine,” she said.

“Good. Now, if you would sign and date it?” Sarah signed. “Wonderful.” Detective Docherty stood, then switched off the video recorder. “Well, that should wrap it up for now.”

Sarah got to her feet, suddenly tired. Her painkillers must have worn off, because her hand and abdomen were throbbing. “Do you know how Vicki Orsini is doing?”

A flicker of regret flashed across Detective Docherty’s face. “I regret to inform you, she passed away this morning at approximately three thirty a.m.”

Sarah’s stomach dropped. “Oh.” A sense of numbness set in, as if she were watching from above. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Appeared to have been poisoned. The symptoms point to strychnine. We’re waiting on the autopsy and the lab results on her drink.”

“I see.” Poisoned.