The box of Lena's belongings sat in the corner of the guest room for five days before Elise could bring herself to open it. Detective Monroe had delivered it personally, explaining that the rest of Lena's possessions would remain in police storage until the investigation was officially closed, but these items—books, photographs, a few pieces of jewelry—had been cleared for release to the family.

  "I thought you might want these sooner rather than later," Monroe had said, her usually businesslike demeanor softening. "Sometimes having something tangible helps with the grieving process."

  Aaron had thanked her, accepted the box, and promptly stashed it in the guest room, suggesting that Elise tackle it "when she felt stronger."

  But today, with Aaron at work and the house to herself for the first time in what felt like weeks, Elise found herself drawn to the box. She'd woken unusually clear-headed that morning—she'd managed to flush last night's pill down the toilet before Aaron could see—and the fog that had clouded her thinking lately had temporarily lifted.

  She sat cross-legged on the guest room floor, breathing in the faint scent of Lena's perfume that wafted from the cardboard when she opened the flaps. Inside, neatly packed, were the artifacts of her sister's life: a stack of dog-eared paperbacks, a small wooden jewelry box, framed photographs of landscapes Lena had taken on her travels, a collection of postcards bound with an elastic band.

  Elise lifted each item carefully, examining it, letting memories wash over her. Lena had always been a collector of beautiful things, not valuable but meaningful—a polished stone from a beach in Maine, a pressed flower from a hike they'd taken together, a delicate origami crane folded from the wrapper of a chocolate bar they'd shared on Elise's last birthday.

  Near the bottom of the box, she found a cloth-bound book, its cover a swirl of vibrant colors that was unmistakably Lena's artistic style. Elise recognized it immediately—her sister's journal. She'd kept one since childhood, filling its pages with thoughts, sketches, observations.

  Elise hesitated, her hand hovering over the journal. Reading it felt like an invasion of privacy, even now. But if there was any clue to Lena's final days, any hint of what had really happened, it would be in these pages.

  With a deep breath, she opened the journal to the last entry, dated just two days before Lena's death.

  *October 15th*

  *Called Mom again today. Still haven't told her everything, but I'm getting closer. E would be furious if she knew I was stirring up trouble, especially with Mom, but this isn't something I can ignore anymore. The pieces are falling into place, and what they're forming terrifies me. I've documented everything—the obvious stuff and the things only I would notice. It's all in the safety deposit box now. Got the last batch of photos developed today too. Physical copies only, no digital trail.*

  *If I'm wrong about this, I'll look paranoid and probably destroy my relationship with E forever. But if I'm right... God, if I'm right, she's in real danger. And she has no idea.*

  *He's calling. Says he wants to have dinner tomorrow to discuss E's birthday surprise. I don't believe that for a second, but I'm going anyway. Maybe I can get him to reveal something. Record it even. But I need to be careful. Very careful.*

  Elise's heart hammered against her ribs. What danger? Who was Lena talking about? The obvious assumption made her sick to her stomach, but she forced herself to keep reading, flipping back a few pages.

  *October 10th*

  *Met with David today. Showed him what I've gathered so far. He agrees something's off but wants more concrete evidence before we take it to E. Says without proof, she'll never believe it. He's probably right. I wouldn't have believed it either if I hadn't seen the pattern myself.*

  *D is going to dig deeper—financial records, background checks, the works. I feel guilty about invading A's privacy like this, but what if we're right? What if the charming persona is just that—a persona? Something he crafted to hide what's underneath?*

  *Every time I think about Margaret, I feel cold all over. History repeating itself? God, I hope not.*

  David. Her uncle David. Lena had been working with him on... something. Something concerning Aaron. And there was that reference to Margaret again—her aunt who had supposedly died of cancer but who, according to her mother, had been poisoned by her husband.

  Elise flipped further back, scanning entries.

  *September 28th*

  *Noticed E looking pale at dinner tonight. Asked if she was feeling okay, and A immediately jumped in with "She's been working too hard, right, love?" The way he speaks for her these days... When did that start? And when did she start looking to him before answering any question? It's subtle, but once you see it, you can't unsee it.*

  *She mentioned headaches again. Frequent, severe ones that come on suddenly. She thinks it's stress. I'm not so sure anymore.*

  *Asked her to meet for coffee tomorrow without A. Just sisters. Need to see if she's different when he's not around.*

  *September 29th*

  *Coffee with E was illuminating. She seemed more herself but tired. Really tired. Said she's been having vivid nightmares and trouble concentrating. When I suggested she see a doctor, she said A already made an appointment with "someone he trusts." A medical school buddy.*

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  *When I asked if she wanted me to go with her, she got this funny look on her face and said A always takes her to appointments. Always. Said it with pride, like it's proof of what a supportive husband he is.*

  *But is it supportive or controlling?*

  *Tried to suggest that maybe she should get a second opinion from a doctor of her choosing. She got defensive. Said I've never liked A. That's not true—I used to think he was great for her. It's only recently that I've noticed the red flags.*

  *She left abruptly when I pushed too hard. Said she had a headache coming on. I'm scared I'm making things worse, but I don't know how else to help her see.*

  Elise's hands trembled as she turned the pages. Had Lena suspected Aaron all along? Had she been trying to warn Elise, only to be dismissed as a troublemaking sister who didn't like her brother-in-law?

  She searched further back, looking for the first mention of these suspicions.

  *August 15th*

  *Ran into A's ex-girlfriend today. The coincidence is almost too perfect—in a coffee shop three towns over that I've never been to before. She recognized me from photos, introduced herself as Katherine. Said she dated A for about a year before he met E.*

  *She asked about E in this careful way, like she was concerned but trying not to show it. When I said E was happy, married, teaching, Katherine looked relieved but also... sad? She gave me her number, said if E ever needed anything, to call. Said it in this weighted way that left me confused.*

  *I almost didn't mention it to A when I saw him later, but I was curious about his reaction. He got very still, then laughed it off. Said Katherine had "some issues" and that they'd ended badly. Made her sound unstable, obsessed with him. But something in his eyes didn't match his casual dismissal.*

  *I'm probably overthinking this. But I might call Katherine anyway. Just to satisfy my curiosity.*

  *August 23rd*

  *Met Katherine for lunch. What she told me has my head spinning. Says A isolated her from friends and family gradually. Created scenarios where she seemed unreliable, forgetful. He'd move her things, then convince her she'd misplaced them. Tell her they'd had conversations that never happened. Classic gaslighting.*

  *Says she started getting sick. Headaches, confusion, memory gaps. Doctors couldn't find anything wrong. Suggested stress, anxiety. A was so supportive, nursing her through it all. Until her brother showed up unexpectedly one day and saw A putting something in her tea.*

  *He confronted A, who exploded, accused the brother of trying to come between them. Katherine moved out that day, went to stay with her brother. Symptoms disappeared within weeks.*

  *She never went to the police—no proof, and she just wanted to move on. But when she heard A was engaged to someone new, she tried to warn E. Sent a letter that was returned unopened. Tried calling, but A always answered, said E wasn't available.*

  *Eventually she gave up. Thought maybe she had been wrong. Until she heard rumors about the fiancée before her—a woman who'd been hospitalized for similar symptoms before breaking off the engagement suddenly and moving across the country.*

  *I need to find this other woman. And I need to watch E more carefully. The headaches, the confusion, the forgetfulness she's been experiencing lately... God, please let me be wrong about this.*

  Elise closed the journal, bile rising in her throat. It couldn't be true. It simply couldn't. Aaron wasn't some serial poisoner preying on women. He was her husband, her partner, her rock.

  But then her mind flashed to the wine she'd poured down the drain, the dinner that had left her so dizzy she could barely stand, the pills he insisted she take every night. The way her memory had become so unreliable, how she'd begun to doubt her own perceptions.

  She reopened the journal, this time to the very first page, where Lena had written a quote in her distinctive handwriting:

  *"The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off." —Gloria Steinem*

  Below it, in pencil, added much more recently, was a note:

  *E—If you're reading this, I'm probably not around anymore. Trust yourself. No matter what anyone tells you, trust what you know to be true. There's a key taped to the back inside cover of that Agatha Christie book I gave you for Christmas last year. Safety deposit box #247, Portland First National. Password is D's birthday followed by the name of our first pet. I love you. Always have, always will. —L*

  With shaking hands, Elise reached back into the box and dug through the stack of books until she found the worn copy of *And Then There Were None*. She flipped it over, ran her fingers along the back inside cover, and felt it—a small bump beneath the paper. Using her fingernail, she pried up the corner of the endpaper and found a small key taped securely to the cover.

  A key to the truth. To whatever evidence Lena had been collecting.

  The sound of the front door opening downstairs jolted Elise from her thoughts. Aaron was home early.

  "Elise?" he called. "Where are you, love?"

  Heart racing, she quickly replaced the journal in the box, slid the key into her pocket, and pushed the box back against the wall. She had just enough time to grab one of Lena's framed photographs before Aaron appeared in the doorway.

  "There you are," he said, his expression a mixture of concern and something else she couldn't quite read. "What are you doing?"

  Elise held up the photograph—a sunset over the ocean that Lena had taken in California. "Just going through some of Lena's things," she said, striving for a casual tone. "Detective Monroe brought them by, remember?"

  "Yes, of course." Aaron crossed the room and crouched beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm glad you felt up to it. Finding anything special?"

  His hand felt heavy, proprietary. Elise resisted the urge to shrug it off.

  "Just some photos, books. Keepsakes." She forced a smile. "It's nice to have a piece of her, you know?"

  Aaron nodded sympathetically, but his eyes scanned the box, assessing its contents. "Did she keep a journal? I seem to remember her always writing in one."

  The question seemed innocent enough, but alarm bells rang in Elise's mind. "I'm not sure," she lied. "I haven't gone through everything yet."

  "Well, don't overdo it," he advised, squeezing her shoulder before rising. "Emotional stuff like this can be draining. Why don't you come downstairs? I picked up lunch from that new sandwich place you mentioned wanting to try."

  "You're home early," Elise observed, getting to her feet.

  "Meeting was canceled, so I thought I'd surprise you." He smiled, a flash of perfect white teeth. "Plus, I wanted to check on you. You were a bit restless last night."

  Because she hadn't taken her pill, Elise thought. Because for once she wasn't drugged into oblivion.

  "Just bad dreams," she said lightly. "About Lena."

  "I'm sorry, love." Aaron pulled her into an embrace, his cologne enveloping her. "Maybe going through her things isn't the best idea right now. It might be stirring up too much grief."

  "Maybe," Elise murmured against his chest, acutely aware of the key pressing against her thigh through her pocket. "But it also helps, in a way. Makes me feel closer to her."

  Aaron drew back, studying her face with such apparent tenderness that for a moment, Elise questioned everything she'd just read. How could this man, who had nursed her through migraines and held her when she cried, be the monster Lena's journal suggested?

  "Whatever helps," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Just remember I'm here too. You don't have to do this alone."

  As they headed downstairs together, Aaron chatting about office gossip and weekend plans, Elise felt as though she was walking beside a stranger. The journal had cracked her perception of reality wide open, and now she was seeing not just her husband but her entire marriage in a different light.

  The key in her pocket felt like it was burning a hole through the fabric. She needed to get to that safety deposit box. She needed to see what evidence Lena had gathered. But more importantly, she needed to do it without Aaron knowing.

  Because if Lena was right—if Aaron had been slowly poisoning her, if he had somehow been involved in Lena's death—then he would do anything to keep his secrets hidden.

  Even kill again.

  In the kitchen, Aaron unpacked sandwiches, his movements casual and familiar. He poured two glasses of water, sliding one toward her with a smile.

  "Your favorite—turkey and avocado on sourdough. Extra pickles."

  Elise stared at the glass of water, then at the sandwich. She wasn't hungry anymore. In fact, her stomach churned with anxiety.

  But refusing might make him suspicious. Especially if he had indeed noticed she hadn't taken her pill last night.

  "Looks delicious," she said, picking up half the sandwich. "Thanks for thinking of me."

  "Always," Aaron replied, lifting his glass in a small toast before taking a drink.

  Elise raised her glass to her lips but didn't swallow. She merely wet her lips, then set the glass down. The sandwich she took small bites of, chewing thoroughly but discreetly spitting most of it into her napkin when Aaron glanced away.

  It was a dangerous game she was playing. Dangerous and exhausting. But as she sat across from her husband, pretending everything was normal while her mind raced with plans to access the safety deposit box, one thought kept her focused:

  Lena had died trying to save her. The least Elise could do was stay alive long enough to uncover the truth.

  Even if that truth destroyed everything she thought she knew about the man she had married.