"Digoxin," Grace said.

"In a concentration roughly four times what would be prescribed therapeutically."

Daniel sat down.

"That's a heart medication," he said.

"Yes.

In therapeutic doses, it regulates heart rhythm.

In the concentration found in that bottle, administered over weeks in small amounts—" Grace paused.

"It would present as fatigue, nausea, elevated liver enzymes.

Exactly what Dr.

Harmon flagged in your bloodwork."

Daniel stared at the kitchen table.

"She was trying to kjll me."

"The lab report doesn't use that word.

But the concentration and the duration — three months — suggests this was not accidental and was not a single incident." Grace's voice was careful and even.

"This changes the charge category significantly.

We're no longer talking about a domestic dispute.

The DA's office will likely be involved by this afternoon."

"What about her asNextlt report?"

"Officer Reeves flagged it last night as I asked.

Given the lab results, the investigating officer on her report has been briefed.

It's unlikely to move forward." A pause.

"Daniel.

She walked into a police station and filed a false report the same day the bottle she'd been using went to a lab.

Whatever she thought she was doing, she has made this considerably worse for herself."

After the call, Daniel sat without moving for several minutes.

Lily came downstairs in her pajamas, her hair loose, carrying the stuffed rabbit she'd had since she was two.

She stopped when she saw his face.

"Daddy?

What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he said.

"Come here."

She climbed onto the chair beside him and leaned against his arm.

"Are you sick?" she said.

"I was," he said.

"I'm going to be better now."

She seemed to accept this.

She sat with him quietly, the rabbit in her lap, while the morning light came through the kitchen window and the house held its breath around them.

An hour later, Grace called again.

"Nora was brought in for questioning this morning," she said.

"Her attorney is with her.

I expect they'll try to frame this as an accident — wrong bottle, misunderstanding, she didn't know what it was."

"She locked it in a cabinet."

"I know.

Paula's statement is being taken this afternoon.

Robert Finch has agreed to speak to the detective on the case." Grace paused.

"There's one more thing.

When they searched Nora's car this morning pursuant to the investigation, they found a second bottle.

Different compound.

The lab is running it now."

Daniel closed his eyes.

"A second bottle," he said.

"Yes."

"What does that mean?"

"It means the first bottle wasn't the only one.

It means she was prepared to continue." Grace's voice stayed level.

"It also means that whatever her attorney tries to argue about accident or misunderstanding becomes significantly harder to sustain."

Lily had wandered into the living room.

Daniel could hear the quiet sound of the television — a cartoon, something gentle, the kind of thing she watched on slow mornings.

"Grace," he said.

"What happens to her?"

"That depends on the DA.

But digoxin poisoning administered over three months with a second supply in her vehicle — we're looking at attempted murd3r.

Possibly premeditated, given the duration." A pause.

"She won't be filing any more reports, Daniel.

She's going to be managing her own situation for a long time."

He let out a breath he felt like he'd been holding for three months.

"And Lily?"

"Lily is safe.

She's with her father.

There's no legal mechanism by which Nora can assert any claim over her." Grace's voice softened slightly — the first time it had.

"Your daughter saved your life.

Make sure she knows that."

He already knew it.

But he hadn't said it to her yet.

He walked to the doorway of the living room.

Lily was on the sofa, rabbit tucked under one arm, watching her cartoon with the focused attention she gave to things she found genuinely interesting.

"Lily."

She looked up.

"I need to tell you something important."

She muted the television.

That small, serious gesture — the mute button, the full attention — made his chest ache.

He sat beside her.

"You saved my life," he said.

"Yesterday morning.

When you knocked that cup out of my hand.

You saved my life."

She looked at him for a moment.

"I know," she said.

He laughed — a short, helpless sound.

"You know?"

"I saw what she put in it." She said it simply, the way children state facts they consider self-evident.

"I wasn't going to let her."

He pulled her close and held on.

Outside, a car moved slowly down the street.

A door closed somewhere.

The ordinary sounds of an ordinary morning.

But his phone lit up one more time on the coffee table.

A message from Paula.

*They just told me something.

About where Nora got the digoxin.

You need to hear this.*