“These are the laboratory blood panels from my wife’s final weeks,” Alexander murmured, flipping through the pages.

“Her doctor said her heart simply failed.”

“Look at the chemical toxicology report on the third page,” I said, pointing a trembling finger.

My hand was stained with black soot, but I pointed directly to a highlighted line near the bottom of the page.

Alexander turned the page, his eyes scanning the technical medical terms.

“Digoxin,” he read aloud.

“But Eleanor was never prescribed heart medication.”

“The levels are extremely high,” I said, looking at the police sergeant.

“It is a compound that causes cardiac arrest in high doses, but leaves very little trace unless you look for this specific compound.”

The sergeant stepped closer, shining his heavy flashlight onto the white paper.

“This looks like a private forensic test,” the officer noted. “It wasn’t filed with the official coroner’s report.”

“Because someone paid to have the official report altered,” I said.

I kept my eyes locked on Celeste, watching her chest rise and fall rapidly.

“But Eleanor knew she was being poisoned,” I continued.