“Does Mark prepare food or drinks for you?”
I thought about the morning coffees.
The smoothies.
The dinners he had recently started insisting on cooking.
“Yes.”
Dr. Lawson ordered additional testing.
Afterward, I took the items from Sunday dinner to an independent laboratory.
“I want these analyzed.”
“For anything specific?”
“I don’t know.”
The testing was expensive.
I paid anyway.
Over the following days, Judith improved.
Doctors found no evidence of permanent neurological damage.
Mark, meanwhile, became more nervous.
Then the laboratory called.
The technician asked me to come in.
She closed the office door before speaking.
“We identified a strong prescription medication in the soup.”
“What would it do?”
“Depending on the amount, it can cause confusion, dizziness, sleepiness, memory problems, poor coordination, and impaired judgment.”
My symptoms.
All of them.
“What if someone received small amounts repeatedly?”
She hesitated.
“Over time, that person could appear cognitively impaired.”
Repeatedly.
That word changed everything.
This might not have been one incident.
It might have been months.
Then she handed me another report.
More than one person appeared to have handled the packet.
Until then, I had imagined Mark acting alone.
Now another possibility entered my mind.
And the first person I thought of was Judith.
The following morning, I contacted Tom Reynolds, a retired Indianapolis detective Harold had once recommended to us.
We met at a café.
Tom listened quietly while I told him everything.
Then he asked,
