She typed "Richmond obituaries" into the search bar and scanned the results, looking for familiar names among the recent death announcements.It was always satisfying to see that her work had been effective, though she was careful not to display any inappropriate reactions when she found what she was looking for.She saw nothing there, so she then turned to the world’s most efficient conveyor of breaking news: Facebook.
And after just two minutes of searching, she found a result… and an unexpected one.
Linnda Harper was dead.
Linda had died just yesterday, according to the announcement.The timing was remarkably fast, much quicker than Margaret had anticipated when she'd visited Linda's home three days ago.
She remembered the consultation clearly.Linda had been so excited about her son's upcoming return from rehab, so hopeful about the converted garage apartment she'd been preparing for him.She'd hired Margaret to help select paint colors and furniture arrangements that would make the space feel welcoming but not overwhelming for someone in early recovery.
"I want Ben to feel supported but not smothered," Linda had told her, running her hand along the freshly painted walls of the garage conversion."This is his chance to start over, and I want everything to be perfect for him."
Margaret had smiled and nodded, offering suggestions about lighting and fabric choices that would create a calming environment.She'd praised Linda's dedication to her son's recovery and had listened sympathetically as Linda described the stress and anxiety she'd been experiencing during Ben's addiction struggles.
"It's been so hard," Linda had confided."I've been seeing a therapist, and she's prescribed medication to help with the panic attacks.But honestly, some days I don't know how I've gotten through it."
That had been the opening Margaret needed.While Linda was distracted by fabric samples, Margaret had excused herself to use the bathroom and had taken a brief detour through Linda's bedroom.The prescription bottle for Atenolol had been sitting on the nightstand, exactly where Margaret had expected to find it, but there were also anxiety medications.It was the sort of seemingly harmless medication that was becoming more and more common in American households.Anxiety meds were perfect for her purposes because the capsules were small and similar enough to her specially prepared capsules that the substitution would go unnoticed.
Margaret had quickly opened the bottle and added three of her poisoned pills to the legitimate medication, mixing them in so they would be indistinguishable from the real ones.Linda would have no way of knowing that some of her pills now contained a lethal combination of potassium chloride and sedatives instead of anxiety medication.
The beauty of the method was its unpredictability.Margaret had no control over when Linda would take one of the poisoned pills, but she didn't need control.She just needed patience… and she had that to spare.The death would appear natural, a heart attack brought on by the anxiety Linda had been struggling with for months.
What Margaret hadn't expected was how quickly it would happen.Three days was remarkably fast, suggesting that Linda had been taking her medication more frequently than prescribed, probably due to the stress of preparing for Ben's return from rehab.Or she’d just been unfortunate enough to grab one of Margaret’s special pills right away.
Margaret closed the browser and slipped her phone back into her purse.The Pemberton consultation was scheduled to last two hours, which would give her plenty of time to assess whether they might be candidates for her more specialized services.But based on their initial conversation, they seemed to be adjusting well to their empty nest status.They had plans for travel, hobbies they wanted to pursue, and a social circle that would help them navigate this new phase of their lives.
They were probably going to be disappointed with her services, actually.Margaret's expertise was in helping people through difficult family transitions, not in simple redecorating projects for well-adjusted empty nesters.
Margaret gathered her materials and headed toward the front door of the Pemberton house, her professional smile already in place.She would spend the morning discussing paint colors and furniture arrangements, taking measurements, and offering suggestions that would help her clients create the living space they wanted.
But part of her attention would remain focused on identifying her next extra-curricular project.Somewhere in Richmond, there was another parent struggling with an adult child's return home, another family dealing with the stress and anxiety that came with trying to rebuild relationships damaged by addiction, mental illness, or simple failure to launch.
And when she found them, Margaret would be ready to offer her specialized form of mercy, whether they knew they needed it or not.
The Pemberton consultation would be routine and professional.But Margaret's real work, her true calling, would continue as soon as she identified the next family that could benefit from her intervention.
She pressed the doorbell and waited for Mrs.Pemberton to answer, her portfolio of fabric samples and design ideas ready to transform another living space.But her thoughts remained focused on Linda Harper.
Some projects, Margaret reflected, simply worked out better than others.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
The sound of Allen’s alarm sliced through the darkness at 6:15, and Kate felt Allen stir beside her as he reached over to silence it.She stretched languidly, feeling the pleasant ache in her muscles that reminded her of the night before.There was something different about the way they moved around each other this morning, a kind of contentment that seemed to carry over from their passionate night on the living room couch.
"Good morning," Allen murmured, rolling over to face her with a smile that made her remember exactly why she'd fallen in love with him.
"Good morning," Kate replied, reaching up to touch his face."Thank you for last night."
"Thank you for coming home to me.And for… well, the other stuff."
They got out of bed together, moving through their individual morning routines with a synchronicity that felt natural and comfortable.Kate pulled on her robe while Allen headed for the shower, and she found herself humming softly as she made her way downstairs to start the coffee.The house felt peaceful in the early morning light, with dust motes dancing in the sunbeams that streamed through the kitchen windows.She knew that the peace would be short-lived, though; Michael would be awake soon enough.
Kate poured herself a cup of coffee and opened her laptop at the kitchen table.She logged into her work email while the house remained quiet around her.The familiar blue glow of the screen brought her back to the reality of the case, but somehow the transition felt easier this morning.The balance between her personal life and professional obligations seemed more manageable after the reminder of what waited for her at home.
DeMarco had sent updated case files overnight, and Kate opened them immediately, scanning through the new information while sipping her coffee.The forensics reports on Linda Harper's scene were consistent with their previous victims, confirming the same method of poisoned pills mixed with legitimate medication.Dr.Walsh had prescribed Atenolol for Linda's blood pressure, but the deadly pills had been added by someone with access to her home.DeMarco had also sent bank statements, employment histories, and other small details to look through.
Kate was deep in reading the toxicology details when she heard Michael's voice calling from upstairs.
"Mama!Mama, up!"
