The Bottle That Had Been Emptied

I stepped through the front door and into the chill of evening. The air struck my face, but I kept moving until I reached my car at the curb. I slid behind the wheel, pressed the locks down, and switched on the small ceiling light.

My fingers quivered as I opened the folded scrap Maya had slipped into my hand.

The writing was childishly crooked, the letters uneven and uncertain. There were only five words.

She is putting them in

I read the line again, waiting for the rest to appear. Putting what into something? Dinner? Mark’s drinks? Leo’s bottles?

A sharp knock against the driver’s window made me jerk in my seat.

Brenda stood outside, so close her face nearly touched the glass. The streetlamp caught her eyes, making them look startlingly bright. She held something in one hand, and my stomach tightened when I recognized it.

For a moment, I only stared at her through the window. Her expression looked strange under the yellow light, and I couldn’t tell whether I was seeing anger or simply the strain of the evening.

She rapped on the glass once more.

My wallet was clutched in her hand. I had probably left it on the table inside when I’d come in with the spare keys.

Her grip was so firm that her fingers had gone pale. She was breathing hard, her shoulders lifted, and I remembered the tension I’d seen in her at the kitchen sink.

I lowered the window just enough to reach through. Cool air slipped into the car, smelling of rain that hadn’t started yet.

“You left this,” Brenda said. Her voice was quiet, but there was a sharpness beneath it. She pushed the wallet through the narrow opening.

I took it from her. Our fingers touched briefly, and her skin felt cold. “Thanks,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “I hadn’t noticed.”

She didn’t move away. Instead, she bent toward the gap, glanced over the seats, then fixed her attention on me. “What were you and Maya talking about?”

The question landed hard. She must have noticed us together.

“Nothing,” I said, arranging a small, casual smile. “I asked if she was all right after her fall. She didn’t say much. She just kept washing up.”

Brenda held my gaze for several seconds. I kept my face still and resisted looking toward my other hand, where Maya’s note remained hidden in my fist.

“Fine,” she said at last. She straightened, though her body stayed stiff. “She’s always tripping over something. Be careful driving, Chloe.”

She headed up the path and disappeared inside. I watched the door until it closed, then raised the window, checked the locks, and pulled away.

I drove until the houses gave way to a vacant strip-mall parking lot. The stores were dark, the lot empty. When I stopped, the rush inside me began to ebb, leaving my hands unsteady.

Under the dome light, I opened Maya’s message again and flattened it against the steering wheel.

She is putting them in

My thoughts went straight to Mark’s prescription. The bottle of strong pain medication had been filled that afternoon, but it was empty now.

He hadn’t seemed drugged or impaired. He’d been tired, yes, but he was moving around and talking normally. That didn’t fit with him having swallowed a bottle’s worth of pills.

Brenda had said the medicine was in an organizer. I tried to make that explanation work, but the empty bottle kept returning to mind.

If Mark hadn’t taken the pills, and they weren’t where Brenda claimed, then she might have them.

Maya’s unfinished warning seemed to press against the paper. Putting them in what? Food? Something to drink? I hated how quickly suspicion took shape, and hated more that it made sense.

I picked up my phone and called Mark. I needed to hear him for myself, to learn whether he sounded all right and whether my worry was misplaced.

When he answered, I made my voice light. “Mark, it’s me. I think I left my scarf at your place. Have you seen it?”

The excuse felt thin even as I said it. What I really wanted was a chance to listen closely and judge his condition.

“A scarf?” he said, sounding tired. “No, I haven’t seen one. Brenda’s still tidying up the kitchen. Do you want me to ask her?”

“No, don’t bother,” I replied too quickly. I forced myself to slow down. “It’s probably nothing. You seemed worn out earlier. Are you feeling okay?”

He gave a low, rough chuckle. “Long day at the warehouse. My back’s hurting. I was just getting ready to take my medicine and go to bed.”

My grip tightened around the phone. “Your medicine?”

“My pain pills,” Mark said. “I picked up the refill today. Brenda normally gets them ready for me with a protein shake when I come home late.”