Chapter 2

Sloane's POV

The tox report came back the next afternoon. Moss called me back to the precinct. This time, she brought a file folder and a printed screenshot.

"Cyclobenzaprine." She slid the report toward me. "A muscle relaxant. The amount in your husband's bloodstream was more than enough to make him dizzy, drowsy, and severely impair his reaction time. No wonder you thought he was swaying. It wasn't the liquor making him drunk."

I frowned. "He doesn't take medication like that. He barely even takes cold medicine."

"He doesn't have a prescription for it, no." She pulled out the printed screenshot. It was from the dashcam. "But look here. 9:40 PM. He pulled over at a gas station off Highway 37."

In the image, Beckett stood by his car, tossing his head back to swallow two capsules, washing them down with a sports drink.

"He takes these every day, doesn't he? Two pills after dinner, his daily 'digestion' supplement, regular as clockwork."

I nodded. That was the truth.

"We fished the pill bottle out of the car," she closed the folder. "Every single capsule left in that bottle had been pulled apart, the original powder dumped out, and replaced with cyclobenzaprine. They were seamlessly put back together. A very steady hand. To an amateur, they looked completely normal."

She looked up at me. "That bottle is usually kept at the Hale manor. Whoever took the time to meticulously tamper with those pills, one by one, had to know that household inside and out."

I knew exactly what she was getting at. "You think it was me."

"I am stating the facts. At the banquet last night, you left early alone. Dozens of guests can testify you weren't there—but poisoning someone doesn't require you to be present. It can be set up days in advance." She paused, her tone shifting sharply. "Mrs. Voss, I looked into your family's financial history. Three years ago, your mother-in-law, Vivienne Hale, took out four life insurance policies in your name. Total payout: over two million dollars. The beneficiaries? Herself, and your husband."

My breath hitched. In this moment, my acting wasn't acting.

"I... I had no idea."

"You didn't know you had two million dollars riding on your life?"

"Vivienne just said it was a safety net. She always handled the paperwork, told me I just needed to focus on recovering." My voice trembled. "I never even read the terms."

Moss stared at me for a long time. "I also checked with Dr. Rena Cole's clinic on the West Side. Judging by your medical records over the last few years, your dosage has been constantly adjusted. Her diagnosis for you is 'emotionally unstable, with aggressive and self-harming tendencies.'" She slid the medical paper over. "Is this how you see yourself, Mrs. Voss?"

Looking at that line of text, actual tears rolled down my cheeks. "...They all say I'm sick. They've said it so much, I almost started believing it myself."

Just then, a sharp knock at the door. A man in a tailored suit carrying a briefcase walked in and handed Moss a business card.

"I am Mrs. Voss's attorney." He spoke with practiced ease. "Detective Moss, my client left the banquet early on the night in question, as witnessed by a room full of guests. Your own dashcam footage clearly shows the deceased was alone in the vehicle. You have zero physical evidence linking her to those tampered capsules. If you keep this up, you either charge her or let her go."

Moss didn't even look at him. Her gaze remained fixed on my face, lingering for a long, heavy moment.

Finally, she closed the files. "You're free to go."

My lawyer opened the door for me. As I stepped out, I heard Moss speak softly behind me:

"A two-million-dollar policy, and a piece of paper branding you a lunatic. Tell me, Mrs. Voss... who is it that really wants you dead?"

I didn't look back.