The Bottle That Had Been Emptied

“Mark, hold on,” I said, feeling panic tighten around my ribs. “Have you had the shake yet?”

“No,” he answered, uncertainty threading his voice. “It’s on the nightstand beside me. What’s wrong?”

“Don’t touch it,” I said, too quickly to disguise the fear in my voice.

“Chloe, what are you saying?”

I scrambled to build an excuse that would sound ordinary. “I just remembered the milk might have gone bad. I noticed a sour smell when I was in the kitchen. You don’t need food poisoning on top of your back pain.”

Silence stretched between us. I listened to the faint sounds on his end, trying to tell what he was doing, but learned nothing useful.

At last Mark said, “All right. I’ll take my pills with water instead.”

My stomach clenched. “Did Brenda leave the pills out for you already?” I asked, keeping my tone as steady as I could.

“She set out two, beside the glass,” he said. “She always does. Why are you being strange, Chlo?”

Two pills.

I stared at the dark road beyond my windshield and tried to fit that answer beside Maya’s warning.

If two were waiting for Mark, what had happened to the other twenty-six?

“Nothing,” I said, forcing a laugh that sounded wrong even to me. “I’m only checking on you. Try to rest.”

Before he could press me for an explanation, I ended the call. My fingers were shaking so hard that the phone slipped from my grasp and landed in the footwell.

Mark had only two pills. Brenda must have kept the rest somewhere. But Maya’s note had suggested more than hiding them. She had warned me they were going into something.

The thought settled over me, cold and heavy. If Brenda wasn’t planning to give the pills to Mark, then who was she preparing them for?

I put the car in gear and headed back toward my sister’s house. A second visit to the front door would get me nowhere. Brenda would refuse to let me in, and if she realized what I suspected, Maya could be the one to suffer.

I stopped a block from the house, switched off the headlights, and climbed out quietly. The neighborhood had gone still beneath the late-night darkness; most windows were black.

I took the alley behind Brenda’s property, stepping carefully through wet grass. My attention kept jumping from the path to the shadowed houses around me.

A high wooden fence enclosed the yard. I knew the side gate’s latch had been broken, so I eased it open instead of trying to force it.

The rusty hinge gave a faint squeal. I stopped at once, holding my breath and listening for movement inside.

Nothing answered. The house remained quiet, but I couldn’t take that as proof no one had heard me.

I slipped into the backyard and made my way toward the rear of the house. Light still spilled from the kitchen, painting a yellow patch across the patio.

Keeping close to the siding, I edged toward the window. Each step felt louder than the one before it.

Through the glass, I could see the kitchen island clearly. Brenda stood with her back to me, working over a wooden cutting board.

She pressed a heavy coffee mug down against something on the board, grinding it again and again. I leaned closer, my pulse beating hard in my throat.

A fine white powder spread beneath the mug.

Brenda used a butter knife to draw the powder into a small mound. Then she opened the cupboard above the counter and took out two containers.

One was a bright pink plastic thermos. Maya’s.

The other was a little clear bottle with a green nipple, the kind Leo drank from.

I watched as Brenda divided the powder between them. She tipped some into Maya’s thermos, then put the rest into Leo’s formula.

Maya’s warning had been right. Brenda was putting something in their drinks.

I wanted to break through the window, shout for help, and snatch the containers away. But I couldn’t be sure what Brenda would do if I confronted her, or how she might explain my presence. I needed evidence first.

My phone came out of my pocket. I opened the camera, trying to hold it steady despite my trembling hands.

I managed to take a photograph just as Brenda tightened the lid on Maya’s thermos.

Then the phone jolted in my hand. Its screen flared bright, and the light flashed back from the window.

Brenda stopped moving.

Slowly, she turned toward the glass. Her eyes seemed to find the exact place where I stood.

I dropped down at once, pressing myself into the damp flowerbed. My heart thudded so violently I thought the sound might carry inside. Had she seen me?

I glanced at the phone to find out what had made it vibrate. A new text glowed on the screen. It wasn’t from Mark.

Brenda had written: I know you’re outside, Chloe. Come in through the back door. If you run or call the police, I’ll make Maya drink what’s in that thermos right now.

I couldn’t run. I couldn’t call anyone without risking Maya.

My legs felt weighted as I pushed myself upright from the flowerbed. Through the lit kitchen window, Brenda still watched the dark yard, one hand resting on Maya’s pink thermos.

The back door stood unlocked. Faced with Brenda’s threat, I went inside instead of fleeing or calling the police.