Fruit of the Poisoned Tree

was tending the flock of sheep. It was comforting somehow to see that image as she rode through the night. Beth was fine. Probably just sleeping heavily. Lord knew she needed a good night’s sleep.

Riding through Myers Park without the standard walkers, runners, baby carriages, and Volvo station wagons was much easier. It gave her a different perspective. She could’ve been in her house asleep like these people. This was what it was like on the outside looking in. She felt like the only person alive in the world. The wind blew through the streets, rattling the winter bones of the trees. She’d be glad to see morning slip over the horizon.

She parked her bike on Beth’s front porch. Shakespeare panted and furiously wagged his tail but otherwise stood at her side as she rang the doorbell over and over. Beth might be angry to be woken up this late. But they’d have a good laugh over some hot tea while she called her parents to let them know she was all right. She’d understand their concern and regret that she missed talking to her boys before bedtime. She was a good mother.

When there was no response to the doorbell, Peggy went around through the wet grass starting to gather frost to the back of the house. She pounded hard on the door and yelled for Beth. There was still no response. She looked up at the dark windows in the house. Beth must be exhausted. She was sleeping like the dead.

The thought caused a shiver to slip down her spine and added renewed vigor to Peggy’s attempts to get in the house. When trying to wake her friend from outside didn’t work, she reached up over the light for the spare key. It was gone. With all the turmoil of recent days, it wasn’t surprising. But the knowledge made her feel even more uneasy.

She looked at the kitchen window, gauging how thick it was. Park had all new windows put in last summer. He wouldn’t thank her for what she was about to do. And insurance might not pay for it. If it didn’t, she’d pay. It was worth it to get into the house and find out what was going on. She was going to feel like a fool if she walked upstairs and Beth was asleep in her bed. But that was a chance she had to take. Too much had happened to this family in a short time to ignore the doubt gnawing at her stomach.

Peggy had never purposely broken a window in her life. She wrapped her scarf around her hand as she’d seen on some television show or movie. It made sense to protect herself from the glass. Shakespeare barked and whined at her side. She shushed him and moved intently toward the window. It was low enough for her to scramble through once she broke it.

Shakespeare barked and whined again, tugging hard at the leash. “I told you that you had to be good.” She turned to him, realizing she might have to tie him up on the porch. He was sitting beside a large, heavy shovel. She looked at her hand, bound in her purple scarf, then back at the dog. “If you’re trying to tell me there’s an easier way, you’re right.”

She took the scarf off her hand and snatched up the shovel. Shakespeare wagged his tail at her choice, then stood quietly beside her as she closed her eyes and smashed the shovel through the window.

Half expecting an alarm to go off, Peggy stood back for a moment. When nothing happened, she used the shovel again to clear all the glass fragments away from the ledge. She tied Shakespeare’s leash to the water spigot under the aperture and pushed herself up and in through the window. Shakespeare started barking as soon as he realized he was about to be left out of the adventure. Peggy ignored him and ran up the stairs to Beth’s bedroom.

Beth was asleep, one arm sprawled above her head. There was a small lamp spreading light across the table and the bed. Peggy looked at her friend’s face. Relief made her sag into a chair beside the table. She was sleeping so peacefully. No hint of all the trauma she’d been through. There were still dark circles in the hollows of her eyes. Tracks that might have been tears stained her face.

Beth was fine. Of course she was fine. Peggy had broken into her house for nothing. She was going to have to buy Beth a new kitchen window because she acted impulsively instead of thinking the matter through. Some researcher!

But she realized as she watched Beth sleeping that she was too still, too quiet. No one slept that deeply. Not naturally anyway. The lamplight caught on a small plastic bottle on the brown carpet at her feet. She reached down for it. It was a prescription bottle. The top was gone, and it was empty. She looked at the information on the label. It was Nembutal, a barbiturate sleeping aid. The date was from yesterday. Yesterday! All the pills were gone! “Oh my God! Beth!”

Peggy frantically dialed 911 on the bedside phone. She barked her location at the operator who answered, then went to help her friend.

If she’d been in bed since before ten p.m., if she’d taken that many pills five hours ago, would she be able to survive?

“Wake up, Beth! You have to wake up!” Peggy jumped on the bed with her friend, pulled back the comforter, and tried to get some response. Beth’s pulse was slow and weak. She roused briefly, trying to speak, but didn’t open her eyes.

“You can’t do this! Think about Reddman and Foxx. They need you. You have to call them.” Peggy grasped at straws. She had to do what she could until the paramedics got there. “You didn’t call them last night. They’re still up waiting for you. You have to call them.”

Beth opened her eyes a little as Peggy forced her into a sitting position. “Peggy?” Her voice was slurred and heavy.

“That’s right. You have to wake up now. Where’s the phone? Foxx and Reddman need to talk to you.”

“Park . . .”

“I know.” Peggy heard the sound of a siren in the street below. “I know you loved him. But you can’t leave yet. You have to hang on. Things will get better.”

The phone on the bedside table rang. The paramedics were pounding on the front door. Peggy left Beth on the bed and ran down to let them in. She answered the phone as the paramedics examined her friend. It was Beth’s parents. Peggy briefly explained what happened and told them they should come quickly.

“She still has a chance,” one of the paramedics said. “We have to get her to Presbyterian Hospital fast. Are you her mother?”

“No,” Peggy answered. “Her parents are on the way.”

Peggy rode in the front of the ambulance with the driver while the other paramedic stayed with Beth in the back. She watched him continue to check Beth’s vital signs as he reported to the hospital.

We have to get there in time. Those boys can’t lose both their parents. Beth has to live.

“Who found her?” The doctor at the emergency room demanded when they finally got to the hospital. “What has she taken?”

Peggy produced the empty bottle from her pocket. “I found her. I think she took these.”

The doctor shook his head. “Jesus Christ! What could be that bad?”

“Her husband was murdered, and she’s been on trial for his death.” Peggy looked at the doctor and shrugged. “Help her, please. I know she wants to live.”

“We’ll do what we can. I’ll let you know when I have some idea of what’s going to happen.”

“Thank you.” One of the paramedics showed Peggy to a waiting area. She sank down into an orange plastic chair and buried her face in her hands. She suddenly remembered Shakespeare and reluctantly called Steve to go and rescue the dog after she explained what happened.

“Is she all right?” Steve asked in a voice heavy with sleep.

“I don’t know yet. Shakespeare is tied up in the back of her house. Can you go and get him for me?”

“I’ll get him. What about you? Are you okay?”

“I will be. I’ll talk to you later.” She sat in the chair after shutting the cell phone. She was freezing. Her hands trembled with reaction. She stuffed them into her pockets to warm them. Was there some warning this would happen? Was there something she missed? Some way she could’ve helped that she didn’t see in time?

Beth’s parents called on their way down from Salisbury and managed to find the hospital. They got there about two hours after Peggy. There was still no word on Beth’s condition. The three of them huddled together on the sofa and prayed. The morning that Peggy had wished for as she rode through the night slipped in through the hospital blinds, gilding them gold and pink. She peeked through them, admiring the sunrise but wishing it brought better news with it.

Hunter joined them halfway through the morning. Beth’s close friends and other family members came and