I took a breath.
"Because someone put something in it that didn't belong there."
She looked worried.
"Was it bad?"
"We don't know exactly what it was yet."
Jasmine stared toward the backyard.
Then whispered, "Could it have made us sick?"
I felt my chest tighten.
I didn't want to frighten her.
But I also didn't want to lie.
"That's why we didn't eat it. We saw the problem and asked people to check."
She nodded slowly.
For a moment, she seemed thoughtful.
Then asked, "Was it Mrs. Harlow?"
Leah stood behind me.
She had heard the question.
I looked toward my daughter.
"Yes. I saw her putting something on the food."
Jasmine's eyes filled.
"But she lives here."
I swallowed.
She looked confused.
"She's supposed to be our neighbor."
For a moment, I couldn't answer.
Then I placed one hand on her shoulder.
"Being somebody's neighbor doesn't mean every choice they make is good."
Jasmine looked toward the patio.
Then asked whether Mrs. Harlow was coming back.
I told her the doors were secured, we were taking precautions, and we'd call for help if necessary.
She nodded.
But that night, she asked us to leave the hallway light on.
And when I checked on her before bed, I found her red paper flower from the cookout tucked beneath her pillow.
At 6:12 the following morning, Detective Sloan called.
Seventeen hours had passed since the first emergency report was made.
The laboratory had completed an urgent preliminary screening of samples collected from the food.
The detective explained that the results required further confirmation and should not be treated as a complete final report.
But one conclusion was already clear.
The powder was not ordinary table seasoning.
The preliminary testing identified a non-food chemical substance that could pose a serious risk if consumed.
The detective didn't give me a detailed chemical description over the phone.
Nor did she speculate about exactly what would have happened if somebody ate the affected food.
She explained that specialists were evaluating the potential risks and that the investigation was being treated as a serious suspected intentional contamination.
I sat on the edge of my bed.
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then whispered, "So it was dangerous?"
"Yes, Mr. Turner. The preliminary findings indicate a genuine hazard."
I closed my eyes.
Leah was standing in the doorway.
She watched my expression.
Then sat beside me.
I placed the phone on speaker with the detective's knowledge.
Rebecca continued.
"The distribution of the substance is also important."