Chapter 6 - The Medication QuestionDr. Keller did not remember the exact drug.
That frustrated Dominic.
Then the physician checked old messages.
Eleanor had texted a photograph of a prescription bottle.
Clonazepam.
Not Dominic’s medication.
Not Eleanor’s, according to Keller.
She asked whether “accidental double-dosing” could cause confusion, memory gaps, slurred speech, poor judgment.
Keller responded generally:
Yes, depending on dose and patient factors. Seek emergency care if ingestion suspected.
He assumed she was asking about a friend.
Dominic felt cold.
“Do you remember why she asked?”
“She said someone she knew was having episodes.”
“Did she mention me?”
“No.”
“Any other drugs?”
“One sleep medication question.”
“What?”
Zolpidem.
Dominic closed his eyes.
He had been sleeping badly since Samantha died.
But he did not use sleeping pills.
Naomi asked:
“Has your mother ever prepared food or drinks for you?”
Dominic almost laughed.
“Of course.”
That answer frightened him.
Eleanor often stayed over during his travel weeks.
Made tea.
Poured whiskey.
Cooked Sunday dinner.
Could she drug him?
He hated himself for asking.
Then he remembered three incidents.
One in March.
He had returned from Charlotte.
Eleanor poured bourbon.
He woke on the couch four hours later with no memory of falling asleep.
She joked that he was exhausted.
Another in April.
At dinner, he became dizzy.
Went upstairs.
Woke the next morning.
Eleanor said he had been speaking strangely and told him he needed to slow down.
Third.
Two weeks earlier.
Marta found him asleep at the kitchen table.
Dominic assumed jet lag.
Now every memory changed shape.
He called Marta.
“Has my mother ever put anything in my drinks?”
Silence.
“No.”
Too fast.
“Marta.”
She began crying.
“I saw her crush something once.”
Dominic’s stomach dropped.
“When?”
“March.”
“What did she do?”
“Put it in your glass.”
“What glass?”
“Bourbon.”
His hand tightened around the phone.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She said it was your medication.”
“Did you see the bottle?”
“No.”
“Marta.”
“I’m sorry.”
Her voice broke.
“You were grieving. Your mother said you refused to take medicine your doctor prescribed.”
Dominic looked away.
There was the mechanism.
Eleanor did not need everyone malicious.
Only trusting.
Marta believed a mother was helping her adult son.
Dr. Keller believed a woman had general medication questions.
Westbridge believed forged papers.
Children believed signed forms.
Dominic believed his mother.
A conspiracy did not require dozens of conspirators.
It required one person good at borrowing other people’s trust.
Dominic underwent toxicology.
Too late to detect March.
But hair analysis could potentially indicate repeated exposure to some substances.
Results would take time.
Meanwhile, police searched Eleanor’s residence under warrant after financial and child abuse evidence expanded.
They found prescription bottles not issued to her.
One contained clonazepam prescribed to a deceased relative years earlier.
Another held zolpidem.
The bottle was nearly empty.
Dominic sat down when he heard.
“Could she have killed me?”
Naomi’s face tightened.
“We don’t know.”
“Could she have intended to?”
“We don’t know.”
“I need an answer.”
“You may never get one.”
He hated that.
Detective Brooks returned to interview Eleanor.
Through counsel, Eleanor denied drugging Dominic.
She said she had once given him “a small portion” of medication because he was hysterical after an argument.
Dominic did not remember.
That admission alone was enough to horrify him.
“You do not secretly medicate someone.”
Naomi nodded.
“She claims she believed you were in danger of hurting yourself.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I know.”
“How would she know?”
“She says you told her.”
Dominic laughed bitterly.
Of course.
Another invented version.
Then police found something else in Eleanor’s home office.
Videos.
Dominic opened one with Naomi present.
Timestamp March 18.
His kitchen.
He was sitting at the island.
Eyes half closed.
Speech slow.
Eleanor filming.
“Dominic, what day is it?”
He mumbled.
She asked:
“Do you think you should be making decisions for the children right now?”
Dominic on video shook his head weakly.
“I don’t know.”
His present self went cold.
He did not remember this conversation.
Eleanor continued:
“Would you trust me to handle things if you couldn’t?”
He murmured:
“Sure.”
Naomi paused the video.
“She was creating evidence.”
Dominic stared.
A drugged, exhausted man.
A leading question.
A recorded answer.
Not legally sufficient by itself.
But persuasive when paired with forged physician letters and caregiver logs.
Another video.
Dominic stumbling upstairs.
Another.
Dominic asleep in the middle of the day.
Eleanor had built a visual case for incapacity.
“Why didn’t she use it yet?”
Naomi asked.
Dominic understood.
“Because Samantha’s key showed up.”
The children finding the hidden box forced Eleanor to move sooner.
She needed them gone before they opened the trail.
She needed Dominic incapacitated before he challenged her.
But he came home early.
Why?
A canceled meeting.
Nothing heroic.
Pure timing.
Ten minutes later and Caleb might still have been pinned down.
Hours later and the children might have been moved.
Days later and Dominic might have ingested something.
He felt physically sick.
Then toxicology called.
Hair analysis indicated intermittent exposure to clonazepam over several months.
Dominic stared at the wall.
He had never been prescribed clonazepam.
Someone had been drugging him.
The question was no longer whether Eleanor fabricated incapacity.
She had been manufacturing it physically.
But police still needed to know why Samantha had connected Eleanor to Robert Hale’s death.
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Because if Eleanor had manipulated one “accident” before—
Dominic could no longer assume Samantha’s death was unrelated either.
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