The Coffee
Callie whispered beside me. “There’s another one.”
The next clip showed my kitchen. Derek entered alone. He opened a cabinet. He moved paperwork. He took my spare house key from a drawer and placed it behind several cookbooks. Then he opened the refrigerator and moved containers from one shelf to another.
It seemed almost absurd. Small actions. Tiny changes. But those tiny changes had made me question my own mind for months.
Then the recording showed something else. Derek took my travel mug from the counter. He opened a small bottle and added several drops of something to the mug.
I stared at the screen.
Callie grabbed my arm. “That’s why I kept telling you your coffee smelled different.”
I remembered. Several mornings I had felt unusually tired and unfocused after drinking coffee I had prepared the night before. I had blamed long work shifts.
Derek’s attorney looked horrified.
Sienna stopped staring at the screen. “I didn’t know he was doing that,” she suddenly said.
Derek turned toward her. “Don’t.”
She looked at him. “You told me it was just something mild to make her sleepy. You never told me you were going into the house this often.”
The judge immediately raised her hand. “No one is leaving this courtroom until we clarify what we’ve just seen.”
