Page 72 of The Surrogate Mother
Sweeney cocks her head thoughtfully. “You know, Adderall is a medication prescribed for ADHD. Why did shejump to the conclusion that Ms. Johnson was poisoning you? Couldn’t it have been a prescribed medication?”
“I… I’m not sure…”
“And are you aware,” she continues, “that Adderall is very unlikely to result in a urine drug screen being positive for methamphetamines?”
I was not.
Sweeney doesn’t wait for my response. She quickly jumps to an entirely new line of questioning, which makes me nervous the other line didn’t go very well for me. “So you say Ms. Holt called you on your phone…”
“Shedidcall me. I have the call in my history.”
“Can I see?”
I nod and pull my phone out of my purse. At least I have proof of the call from Denise. I bring up my call record and hand it over to Detective Sweeney, who studies it thoughtfully.
“Did anyone else witness this call?” she asks me.
“No.” I think about how I raced out of the café the second I saw Denise’s name on the screen. “But she called me. You can see it on the screen.”
“Right.” Sweeney nods. “The question is, what did she say?”
“I told you what she said.”
“Yes,” she agrees. “You did.”
What isthatsupposed to mean?
“And did Ms. Holt tell her suspicions about Ms. Johnson to anyone besides you?”
“Well, no,” I admit. “I don’t think so, at least.”
“Don’t you think that’s odd though? If you believed one of your employees was poisoning another, wouldn’t you speak to HR?”
My palms feel very sweaty all of a sudden. “Well, shethought it might be an issue because, you know… Monica is pregnant.”
I know it will come out eventually, but I can’t tell the detective that Monica is our surrogate. I can’t even imagine how that revelation will make me look. I don’t want to think about it. I’ll deal with it when it happens.
“Now Abby,” Sweeney says, “when is the last time you saw that letter opener?”
“A few weeks ago?” I feel my eyebrows bunch together. “I thought I lost it.”
“Lost it?” She cocks her head at me. “Would you have taken it out of your office?”
“No. But… it wasn’t in the drawer where I usually keep it. Maybe someone borrowed it.”
Or stole it because they wanted to frame me for murder.
“Prior to your termination yesterday,” she says, “how would you categorize your relationship with Ms. Holt?”
“Um, it was fine.”
“Did you get along with her?”
“More or less.” I’m finding it hard to swallow and I feel like I’m choking. “Everyone has their differences, right?”
She smiles at me. “That’s true.”
How long will it take for her to hear the story about the “bitch” email?
