SEVEN
Amanda was just getting into the car when a text chimed on her phone. It was a message from Rideout to call ASAP.
She did just that, and put the call on speaker so Trent could hear. “It’s Detective Steele,” she said when Rideout picked up.
“You take ASAP seriously. I just sent the text.”
The wait was killing her. “You have something for us?” she rushed out.
“Oh, do I ever. First, cause of death was cardiogenic shock, respiratory arrest second. Now, a microscopic evaluation of her lungs showed a hypertrophy of the smooth endoplasmic reticulum of hepatocytes.”
She and Trent looked at each other. His expression of absolute confusion confirmed she wasn’t alone in feeling that way. She was hearing everything but only understood about half. Rideout normally kept his speech to the level of a layman.
“And in simplified English?” she asked.
“The cells that process protein in the liver are enlarged.”
That she could understand. “Do you know what could have caused the enlargement?”
“Pentobarbital poisoning.”
“The stuff that’s used to put animals to sleep.” She’d known that since losing the family dog when she was sixteen. Her father had laid out what was going to happen to Rosco as a matter of fact, without any sugarcoating.
“That’s right. Now, I would still like to wait on the bloodwork to be absolutely certain—and that’s if it’s detectable. Pentobarbital usually remains in the body anywhere between fifteen and fifty hours, depending on how fast it is metabolized.”
“So we may never know for sure?” That possibility sank like a stone.
“Let’s think positively.”
It was harder to do than say. “How much is needed to be fatal?”
“Anywhere between two to ten grams. But I want to be upfront. Pentobarbital is sometimes prescribed to treat anxiety and depression—small doses, short-term, it’s safe. But as you know, Alicia Gordon was only prescribed birth control.”
Cold blanketed Amanda’s shoulders. “The sleeping medication. There was a bottle of Sleep Tight on the nightstand. It’s available over the counter.”
“I’ll make sure it’s tested for contamination.”
Amanda was starting to rethink her preference that Alicia’s manner of death was murder. The dead always had secrets; some they took to the grave. But a murder investigation had a way of exposing everything, even what loved ones didn’t want found.
“What are the side effects if someone ingests too much pentobarbital?” Trent asked.
“Dizziness, nausea, weak and shallow breathing, a rapid pulse, low blood pressure and body temperature. She also could have been drowsy, confused… There are a lot of ways the drug manifests itself.”
“The woman who owns the cabin mentioned confusion,” Amanda said. “Is it possible Alicia had pentobarbital in her system for a while and some of the symptoms showed up in the day or two before she died?”
“It is possible.”
Amanda had been hoping it wasn’t. “Alibis in this investigation are going to be useless.”
“At this point, yes,” Rideout agreed.
“When will we have the toxicology results?” she asked.
“Probably looking at Monday, at the earliest.”
“Okay, call me the second you have them.” They would have to wait for answers a little while longer—and so would Tony.
“I assure you that I will.” With that, Rideout was gone.
“Murder or suicide?” Trent put out there, his voice slicing the brief silence that had fallen between them.
“Could be either, but I’m thinking there might be an easier, faster way to go.”
“And there’s Pamela Zimmerman’s take on things. Alicia Gordon struck her as dazed and confused.”
“Yeah.” Amanda chewed on that. “The day before Alicia died. I think someone drugged her with pentobarbital without her knowledge. If she wanted to kill herself, I don’t think she would have spread it out over days.”
“Murder then,” Trent said.
“And with alibis out, that leaves us with means, motive, and opportunity unanswered. The opportunity part is especially dicey. We don’t know for sure where or how she consumed the pentobarbital.” She stopped talking there. If it had been added to Alicia’s sleeping aid, where would that leave Tony? He’d certainly have access.
“You all right over there?”
“I’m fine,” she pushed out. Does he read minds and energy now?
Trent held up a hand. “Excuse me for asking.”
She pinched her eyes shut a second. Sarcasm and snippiness weren’t working for her or Trent—and he didn’t deserve it. He’d as good as told her he didn’t have feelings for her. She should let whatever budding ones she had for him wither and die. “Sorry, I’m a little on edge.”
“Just a guess. It has to do with Tony?”
“Yeah.” She kept asking herself if she’d have the fortitude to arrest Tony if it came to that. But she had turned in her own mother over a year ago to face a murder charge. If Amanda was going to break the law or look the other way for anyone, it would have been for her own flesh and blood, not an estranged friend.
“It can’t be easy when a friend’s involved in something like this.”
“Again, calling him a friend is stretching things.”