“I was pregnant,” she said, her breath hitching in her chest. “I think … I think he gave me something. I got really sick one night and then lost the baby.”

My teeth slammed together. I didn’t know that part, and my heart ached for her loss. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.” Taking her hand into mine, I said, “Teresa, I have to tell you something, but you have to be very strong and know that I am working with the police and the FBI to stop it.”

Without looking at me, she nodded, still lost in her grief.

I hated to tell her now, but she had a right to know. “I think he’s been poisoning your sister.”

Her attention flew to me again, aghast.

“The sparkling water that you bring her every day. He would have known you weren’t drinking it. You weren’t getting sick. Your sister was.”

Both hands covered her mouth in horror.

“We had a warrant issued for your house,” I said, rushing to assure her we were taking care of it. “We’re having it tested now.”

“How can you possibly—?”

“Her fingernails. She has what’s called Aldrich-Mees’ lines.” When Teresa scanned the images in her memory and nodded absently, I continued. “Those are a symptom of heavy metal poisoning. It could be something like thallium or even arsenic.”

Before Teresa could react, we heard the nurse outside. “Dr. Yost,” she said, sounding surprised.

I hurried to the door and opened it a fraction of an inch.

“Have you seen my wife?” he said, looking around with a confused expression on his face. He frowned at the two orderlies who were standing around doing a whole lot of nothing.

One of them cleared his throat and pulled up his scrubs in discomfort.

“No,” the nurse said, pulling the doctor’s attention back to her. “Isn’t she in her room?”

“She was, but … never mind. I’ll check again.”

“Nice to see you,” she said with a smile. Then she turned to the door and rolled her eyes at me through the crack.

I waved her forward before rushing back to Teresa’s side. “I have to get you back.”

“How could I be so stupid?” she asked as the nurse unlocked the bed so the men could roll her out.

“Chin up, hon,” I said, scanning the area before we snuck her through the delivery waiting area. “He won’t ever do this again.”

The fact that he’d gone after Yolanda’s family summed it all up for me. Yost had done everything to keep Yolanda under his thumb. Same with his first wife, Ingrid. I had a sneaking suspicion he’d killed Ingrid’s mother, and when Ingrid found out, she ran. In turn, Yost took the only recourse he had left. He killed her. He might have done the same to Yolanda if she hadn’t been protected, insulated by a caring family.

Teresa had figured it out. What he’d done to his first wife. The consequences of her leaving. But she’d never dreamed he was trying to control her another way. He knew she was seeing her sister. He knew she was taking Monica the mineral water, so he laced it with just enough arsenic to make her sick, punishing Teresa for defying him and getting an obstacle out of the way at the same time. That was why the doctors couldn’t pinpoint the problem. She was being slowly and methodically poisoned.

I left Teresa in the capable hands of two officers in scrubs and scrambled to make sure the scene had been set. Thanks to Uncle Bob, it had. Half an hour later, I stood in a quiet corner of the Presbyterian hospital with a magazine covering half my face, conspicuously trying to seem inconspicuous as the blond-haired, blue-eyed devil walked toward me. He stopped at the nurse’s station to sign a chart, then continued my way.

“Ms. Davidson, I can’t tell you how much you’ve done for me,” Yost said.

I let a slow, calculating smile spread across my face. “Yeah, I bet. Can we talk?”

He frowned, then glanced around. “Is something—?”

“Look, Keith…,” I said, letting the name sink into him a moment before I slipped a manila envelope out of the magazine, held it up with raised brows, and waited. When his features smoothed from confusion to something akin to a used car salesman ready to bargain, I pointed to the supply closet and headed that way. “Coming?” I asked over my shoulder.

He followed.

After we stepped inside, he locked the door and glanced behind the shelves to make sure the room wasn’t occupied. Then he stepped toward me, his façade, his charming demeanor, all but gone, completely replaced with the calculated actions of a criminal.

“What’s this about?” he asked, clearly hoping I didn’t know everything. A fruitless endeavor, as my knowledge was definitely the fruity type.

“It’s about several things, Keith. Do you mind if I call you Keith?”

“Yes, actually, I do. What do you want?”

I let a lazy smile spread across my face. “Money.”

After he sized me up a long moment, he said, “Figures. You bitches are all alike.” He took hold of my jacket then and braced me against the metal shelves. I let him. I even placed my elbows on a shelf behind me while he felt me up.

He was nowhere near interested in me. His interests leaned toward self-preservation. But he opened my jacket and unbuttoned my shirt while keeping his eyes locked on to mine. When he got to the bottom button, he jerked the shirt out of my jeans and sent his hands behind me, feeling along the waistband of my jeans and the back of my bra. His hand brushed across the tender part of my back, and I bit back a gasp. He didn’t notice. Luckily he was a doctor and saw half-naked chicks regularly. Otherwise, this whole thing could have been embarrassing.