Emilio looked at me.
“I didn’t know at first.”
“Poisoned?”
“I thought I was dying from some disease.”
He gestured toward the diffuser.
“The doctors kept finding traces of chemicals in my blood, but never enough to identify the source.”
I stared at the diffuser.
“The sandalwood?”
“Not exactly.”
He reached beneath a table and pulled out a small plastic container.
Inside was a dark brown residue.
“This was collected from the old ventilation system.”
I felt cold.
“Why didn’t you tell the police?”
His eyes dropped.
“Because the person responsible has access to everything.”
Rafe suddenly stepped forward.
“You’re sick.”
Emilio looked at him.
“Perhaps.”
Then he smiled.
“But I’m not stupid.”
Rafe turned toward the attorneys.
“Call Dr. Prentiss.”
“No.”
Emilio’s answer was immediate.
“Call someone else.”
He reached for his phone.
“I’ve already hired an independent toxicologist.”
Rafe stared at him.
“You did what?”
“I did it yesterday.”
“And who helped you?”
Emilio looked at me.
“I did.”
My stomach tightened.
Rafe’s face changed.
“Etta.”
I looked at him.
“Do you know why I asked you to clean this house?”
“No.”
“Because you were the only person who never took anything.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
