That night, when the house was asleep, I took a little of the powder for Thandeka to test — and underneath the jar I found a pharmacy receipt.

It was made out to a name I had never heard in ten years of this family: Cordis Weatherby.

I stood in my own dark kitchen holding a slip of paper that proved my mother-in-law had not been acting alone.

Someone outside this house had been helping her.

And I did not yet know who Cordis Weatherby was, or that before this was over I would be standing in an abandoned mountain chapel, screaming my daughter’s name. Chapter 8 — Don’t Drink That

The next morning Ottoline set another cup in front of me.