“He tested it.”
Garrick’s face went pale.
“Result?”
Amos looked toward the children visible through the window.
“Not here.”
Inside the barn, beneath lantern light, Garrick opened the letter.
Nola read over his shoulder.
Dr. Merritt had not identified the exact compound with certainty; his equipment was limited.
But he had found enough.
The tonic contained a toxic metallic preparation wholly inconsistent with ordinary fever treatment.
Repeated doses could produce gastrointestinal distress, weakness, tremors, neurological symptoms, progressive wasting, and death.
Exactly what Mae had suffered.
Exactly what Weston had begun showing.
Garrick lowered the paper.
For several seconds, no sound came from him.
Then he punched the barn wall.
Hard.
Blood appeared across his knuckles.
Nola grabbed his wrist.
“Stop.”
He punched again with the other hand.
“Stop!”
“She begged me.”
“I know.”
“I gave it to her.”
“Garrick.”
“I killed her.”
Nola slapped him.
The sound cracked through the barn.
He froze.
So did Amos.
Nola’s own hand stung.
She did not regret it.
“Say that again and I’ll hit you harder.”
Garrick stared.
Tears ran down his face.
Nola pointed toward the letter.
“The person who made this killed her.”
“The person who ordered it killed her.”
“The person who lied killed her.”
“You loved your wife.”
“They turned that love into a weapon.”
“That is not the same as murder.”
His chest heaved.
Nola lowered her voice.
“If you want to honor Mae, stop taking guilt that belongs to the men who did this.”
Garrick looked toward the wall.
Then collapsed onto a hay bale.
For the first time, he cried without hiding outside.
Nola sat beside him.
Did not touch.
Not until he reached for her hand first.
Then she held it.
Amos quietly left.
Some grief needed witnesses.
Not audiences.
Merritt’s letter was evidence.
But not enough.
Wren could claim contaminated samples.
Crow could claim ignorance.
Deputy Pike could bury complaints.
They needed connection.
That came unexpectedly from Eli.
The boy had been listening.
Of course.
At breakfast, he said:
“Doctor Wren keeps papers in his saddlebag.”
Garrick looked up.
“How do you know?”
“I looked once.”
Nola closed her eyes.
“Of course you did.”
Eli continued:
“When Mama was sick.”
“He came every Tuesday.”
“He would leave his bag in the kitchen.”
“I looked because I wanted to see doctor tools.”
Garrick stared.
“What papers?”
“Receipts.”
“Names.”
“One said Crow.”
Silence.
Nola leaned forward.
“You can read?”
Eli looked offended.
“Yes.”
“What did it say?”
“I don't know all the words.”
“Something about shipments.”
“Powder.”
“And V.C.”
Crow’s initials.
Garrick stood.
Nola immediately said: