Around 3 a.m., Detective Harper returned.

Soft eyes, sharp instincts, a voice that never rose even when mine trembled.

“We’ve secured your house,” she said, pulling up a chair.

“You won’t have to go back there anytime soon.”

I nodded, my throat too tight for words.

Caleb shifted in the bed next to me.

I brushed his hair back, grateful each time I saw his chest rise. Harper watched the motion, pen poised over her notebook.

“You mentioned an unknown texter,” she said.

“We traced it.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Who?”

“Your neighbor.

Mrs. Ellery.”

Mrs. Ellery—she who watered her garden at dawn, who shouted at raccoons like they understood her.

The woman I barely knew beyond a few polite waves. She saved us?

“Mrs. Ellery prefers to remain anonymous for now,” Harper explained.

“She’s afraid of retaliation. Considering your husband’s planning, I don’t blame her.”

Planning.

The word felt way too small for what Ethan had done.

“He bought the chemicals two months ago,” Harper continued.

“He researched dosages, symptoms, ways to mask pesticide odor. He even used a text app to communicate with his ex. His goal? A clean exit—insurance payout, custody erased, a new life.” She looked at me, regret clearly in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

Months. While I tucked Caleb in, kissed his forehead, joked about burnt toast—Ethan had been planning this all along.

“Will he… get out?”

I whispered. “Bail?”

Harper’s expression hardened.

“Not tonight. Maybe not ever.”

That wasn’t as comforting as it should have been.

When she left, the room felt too big, too quiet.

My fingers kept brushing Caleb’s wrist, checking the pulse that kept me grounded.

Then my phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

“I’ll testify.

Just make sure he can’t hurt anyone else.”