Influenced by Eva Robinson (best free ebook reader TXT) 📗

she looked around for it, panic started tightening her throat. Where had she left the other ant trap? Had she just zoned out and put it someplace where Nora could find it?

“Nora all done!” She smiled. “Out, please.”

“No, Nora. I can’t let you out.”

“Get out, please.”

“No, there’s poison.” Hannah could never let Nora out again. She’d have to stay there until Hannah found the ant trap, because if she poisoned her own daughter—

She could no longer think straight.

“Nora all done!”

“No, Nora, it’s dangerous!” she shouted, her voice echoing.

Nora’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Sorry, Nora. Mama’s too loud.”

“Mama make loud noise,” Nora agreed.

Hannah’s phone rang, buzzing on the table, and she turned to pick it up. Was he here already? “Luke? I have to cancel the plans. I can’t go out. I mean, I have to find the ant trap. You told me to put out ant traps, and now Nora will be poisoned.”

“Slow down. What’s wrong?”

It only took hearing his voice to help her calm down a little. “Sorry. I… I’m having a hard time thinking straight.”

“Another late night?”

“Then I was lying awake, waiting for the dog to start barking.”

“You really should try CBT. It’s fantastic for insomnia.”

“I don’t have insurance yet. Look, um, I had two ant traps, and they’re full of poison. And I cut them open and hid one, but I’ve lost the other. So if I put it somewhere… If I lost it, and if Nora finds it and puts it in her mouth—”

“Hannah, it’ll be fine. Buzz me up, and I’ll help you find it. Also, they’re not really that toxic.”

“Okay. Okay. Thank you, Luke.” She crossed to the door and unlocked it, then pushed the buzzer to let Luke in.

When she scanned the room, she was relieved to find she’d already packed Nora’s bag—not that she remembered doing it. If she managed to find the freaking ant trap, she was all set to go. One thing at a time.

Nora launched into a cheerful song about waffles just as Luke opened the door. His eyes went right to her, and a grin lit up his face. “There’s my girl.”

She beamed at him. “Waffles.”

“I don’t know where I left it,” said Hannah, trying to get the situation back on track.

But all Luke had to do was show up and she started to feel calmer. Maybe it was his dorky cat sweater that put her at ease, or the fact that beautiful people always seemed in control.

He flashed her a lopsided smile. “You look amazing.”

Moments ago, she’d been ready to tear her hair out and scream at the top of her lungs. Now she was sure she was blushing. “Well, apparently it’s a bit of a celebration tonight. We raised a bunch of money, and I think someone got a grant, but they haven’t said specifically yet.”

“You had fun at the last party?”

“I did, yes. The place is gorgeous.” She almost wanted to tell him about Daniel. “The woman hosting it was very nice. She has all these sculptures in her yard. There was just one person who kind of annoyed me.”

Luke shoved his hands in his pockets. “Oh? You don’t usually get annoyed that easily.”

“Well, it’s just…” She looked down at her fingernails. “You know I’ve been doing private testing. And there’s obviously pressure to come up with a diagnosis, so they can get extra time. If I didn’t find anything, I wouldn’t get the referrals. They’d think I was ‘missing something.’ I wouldn’t have a job.”

Luke shrugged. “I know. But if the college boards are preventing others from finishing their tests, that’s their fault, isn’t it? It’s a ridiculous system that you didn’t create.”

“It’s just the wealth inequality—”

“Waffles maple syrup,” said Nora. “All done.”

Luke leaned against the countertop. “You didn’t create that inequality, did you? It’s always been there, and it always will be. Stop taking responsibility for things you can’t control. You have a child to look after, and you’re doing a good job. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“You’re much more forgiving than Peter.”

“I already hate him. What did Peter have to say?”

She smiled. “He was criticizing private testing, and then he launched into some whole conspiracy theory at Harvard. Something about rich people buying their way in. I meant to ask you about it. He said we would not believe what’s going on now, that it would blow our minds and it’s a totally new kind of corruption, and then he refused to divulge any details.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “This country has enough conspiracy theorists.” He turned, frowning at the countertop. “It’s right there. The ant trap.”

It blended in with the clutter behind it. On its side, it looked worryingly close to the brownies. “Do you think it’s okay? Right next to the food like that?”

“These are hardly toxic for humans, Hannah. It’s just borax. It’s not like the old days. You could consume this whole thing and you’d be fine. Not that I’d recommend it—it would taste terrible.”

She let out a long breath. “Right. Thank you, Luke. I would lose my mind without you.”

Her phone buzzed on the counter again, and she read the text from Rowan.

BOSTON GLOBE IS POSTING AN IN-DEPTH PIECE ABOUT ARABELLA’S DEATH.

When she flicked open the headlines of the Boston Globe, she saw it there. Murder at Harvard. She scanned the headlines, her chest tightening. The article included one of Rowan’s beautiful photos—the two of them standing together in the sun, with cherry blossoms in the background

“Everything okay?” asked Luke.

Hannah stared at her phone. “One of Rowan’s friends was poisoned. That PhD candidate who died? Apparently, she was murdered and no one knows who did it. And they’ve posted Rowan’s photo. Her commenters…”

When she opened Rowan’s Instagram, she saw they’d already starting flinging around the accusations.

Do you think Rowan killed her friend?

I could have told you that being friends with Rowan Harris was dangerous.

Sickness spread through her, and she started typing out a message again. Rowan had nothing to do with—

“Hannah?” said Luke. “Are you still with me?”

She