Chapter 27
Jeremy is going to pick up Teddy today from my apartment.
It’s been two days since I drove out to Westchester, to the previous residence of Veronica Chesson.
Jeremy and I have another mediation session tomorrow, so it feels like this is my last chance to talk to him before that happens.
I need to try to talk some sense into him.
If he doesn’t already know about Veronica’s past, I’m going to tell him.
While Teddy is playing in his room, I stand in front of the kitchen sink, giving myself a pep talk. This is not going to be an easy conversation to have with my husband, but he needs to know the truth. It’s my only chance to save my family and maybe even my son’s life.
As I’m rehearsing in my head what I want to say, my gaze strays to the knife block on the counter. Once again, there is a knife missing from the block—I didn’t notice it earlier because I was so busy with Teddy. I’m certain all the knives were in their slots when I went to bed last night.
I peer down into the sink, where I found the missing knife last time—nothing.
Just as I’m about to check the dishwasher, the doorbell rings.
As much as I want to search for the knife, I’m not about to keep Jeremy waiting, so I hurry over to the front door to let him in.
When I throw open the door, Jeremy is wearing his suit and tie, and he’s got his phone out.
He doesn’t even lift his eyes from the screen. “Teddy ready?”
“You’re a little early,” I point out. “He’s not quite ready.”
“I’ll go wait in the car.”
He starts to turn around, but then I reach out and grab his arm. “Can you please come in for a moment? I want to talk to you.”
He steps into the apartment, a wary look on his face. I told Teddy to wait in the bedroom and not to come out until I told him to. So we’ve got the living room to ourselves.
“By the way,” Jeremy says, “have you seen that elephant that Ronnie got for Teddy? Rosita said he brought it to school yesterday.”
“I haven’t seen it. Maybe he left it at school.”
“I guess.” He lowers his phone, although he doesn’t put it back in his pocket. “Is he getting ready?”
“Yes,” I say, “but…like I said, I wanted to talk to you.”
“Okay…”
He’s not going to like what I have to tell him, but he needs to hear it. He needs to realize who he is bringing into our child’s life. “Veronica is a drug addict.”
He stares at me for a moment, and then he laughs. “That’s what you wanted to tell me?”
“I did a background check. She was arrested for possession of heroin.”
There’s no surprise on his face. He already knew. He knew that this woman was a drug addict, and he slept with her anyway. He introduced her to our child. “That was a long time ago.”
“Not that long.”
“She’s not a drug addict.” He’s defending her the same way he defended me when his mother told him not to marry me, but her only gripe against me was that I was older than he was.
If she knew about Veronica, she’d be rolling in her grave.
“She had an issue many years ago, but it’s over and done with.
I promise you—she’s clean. For many years, like I said. ”
“Well, I spoke with her former employer, and they said she had track marks!”
“You spoke with her former employer?” Anger washes over his face, although I feel like that’s not the part of the sentence he should be focusing on. “That’s pretty out of line, Naomi.”
“Do you hear what I’m telling you? Your new girlfriend has track marks!”
“For Christ’s sake, she doesn’t have track marks!” His eyes have hardened. “I’ve seen her arms many times. I promise you—no track marks.”
“Not just that,” I continue, “but before you, she went after another married man. A rich married man.”
“Uh-huh…”
“Don’t you see what I’m telling you?” My voice has taken on a high-pitched pleading tone, but I can’t help it. “Veronica doesn’t love you. All she’s looking for is money. That’s all she wants.”
“That’s not true.”
“And she hates Teddy,” I add, knowing that this last accusation will hit home. “She wants to get rid of him.”
He blinks at me. “Hates Teddy? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
But is that a twinge of uncertainty in his voice?
“It’s true!” I cry, seizing on his hesitation. “All she wants is your money, and Teddy is just…he’s a complication.”
“That’s not true. She adores Teddy.” But again, he doesn’t sound entirely sure. “Christ, what the hell is taking that kid so long?”
He pushes past me, walking toward the closed bedroom door. He yanks it open without knocking and discovers Teddy playing on the floor with Legos. Well, some combination of rocks and Legos.
“Daddy!” Teddy propels himself at Jeremy’s leg. “Daddy, Daddy!”
The anger instantly vanishes from my husband’s face as he scoops Teddy up off the floor. “Here I am! Are you ready to go?”
“No,” he says, as if such a thing were preposterous. “I need to pack.”
“Let me help you then.” Jeremy shoots me a look. “It doesn’t seem like your mom has been doing much to move things along.”
Jeremy lowers Teddy to the floor, then opens the top drawer of the dresser. I guess he’s looking for things to take with them. But then he freezes, staring down into the drawer. He takes a step back, his mouth hanging open.
“Naomi,” he gasps. “What the hell?”
“What is it?”
Jeremy fishes into the drawer and pulls out that elephant that Veronica bought for Teddy. Except it looks different than it did when he first got it.
Namely, there is a large kitchen knife wedged in its chest. My kitchen knife, it would seem.
Not just that, but the elephant doll has been…for lack of a better word, disemboweled. The stuffing has been pulled out of its abdomen. And there is some sort of bright red substance coating the knife and the inside of the doll’s belly.
“Ellie!” Teddy cries out. (Apparently, that’s the name of his elephant.)
“Naomi,” Jeremy manages as he scrambles to hide the doll in his jacket so Teddy won’t be further traumatized. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you do this?”
“I didn’t do it!” I protest.
But he’s not listening to me. He’s too furious.
“You’re really deranged.” He’s ranting now. “I mean, I knew you had issues—God knows I’ve put up with them long enough—but this is just going way too far.”
“But I didn’t do that!” Tears of frustration jump into my eyes at his accusation.
And then something occurs to me. “I bet it was Veronica! You’ve got the key to the apartment at your house.
The other day, I found the door unlocked, and I thought I might have accidentally left it unlocked, but now I think it was her. She came in here while I was out and…”
“And did this?” A vein is standing out in Jeremy’s temple. “This was not Veronica. This was you. You’re the only one here and the only one who could have done this.” He waves his phone in the air. “And believe me, we are going to be discussing this at the mediation tomorrow.”
Teddy is still crying for Ellie. Jeremy scoops him back up into his arms, and Teddy clings to him. “Don’t worry,” Jeremy murmurs in his ear. “We’re going to get you another one. I promise.”
“I got him a giraffe,” I point out. I pluck the giraffe I bought a few days ago from where I left it on the bed. “Here, Teddy.”
“I hate giraffes!” Teddy wails. “I want Ellie!”
Oh my God.
Jeremy ends up having to carry Teddy out of my apartment while he is crying and screaming. But the worst part is the seething look Jeremy gives me just before he slams the apartment door closed behind him.
My head is throbbing as I peer through the window and watch Jeremy screech out of my driveway in his Tesla. I can’t believe he would think I’d do something like that. If he really believes that, there’s no hope left. Veronica has won.
But no, I can’t let that happen. Not if there’s a chance she might hurt my son.
It feels like an ice pick is jabbing me in the temple.
I tear my gaze away from the window, make my way to the bathroom, and pull open the medicine cabinet with a shaking hand.
Moonstone is actually fabulous for easing the headaches I sometimes get during my menstrual cycle, but I can tell it won’t touch this one.
My fingers close around a bottle of Tylenol between my razor and the dental floss.
I fumble too long with the childproof lid and feel a rush of relief when I get the bottle open. Except to my surprise, when I overturn the contents of the bottle into my palm, only three capsules roll out.
How is that possible? I bought the bottle of Tylenol when I first moved in here, and I’ve only taken it once since then. The label advertises that the bottle contains fifty pills, so it doesn’t make sense that all but three should be gone.
Then something terrible occurs to me.
If Veronica really does have a key to this apartment and wants to get rid of me, she could have tried to sneak the Tylenol into something in my kitchen.
As a doctor, I am aware that one bottle of Tylenol is easily enough to kill a person.
And given everything going on in my life, there’s a decent chance it might have been taken as a suicide attempt.
Except if that’s true, what did she lace with Tylenol?
The answer hits me like a ton of bricks.
The kombucha. I’ve been drinking kombucha since before it was trendy, and I’ve never tasted anything like that before, homemade or not.
It must have been a combination of the taste and the Tylenol in my system that caused me to throw up so violently.
And it’s a good thing I did—it likely saved my life.
I stare at the bottle of Tylenol, wondering if Veronica could truly be that diabolical. But she did arrange it so that Rhona Simington fell down the stairs. And it’s very clear how much she’s been manipulating my husband.
My head is still throbbing, so I swallow two of the remaining Tylenol capsules.
If Veronica really did try to poison me, I don’t know what to do next.
The kombucha is long gone, so I have no proof.
If I tried to tell Jeremy, he’d likely tell me I was being delusional.
I’m not even sure if Ezra would believe it.
From now on, I can’t underestimate Veronica anymore. She will clearly go to any length to land my husband, no matter what she has to do.
I have to be very, very careful.