Chapter 3 - THE NOTEBOOK
For the next hour, I couldn't stop staring at the photograph of Luca's notebook.
The words seemed burned into my mind.
WAIT FOR HER TO STOP FIGHTING.
It wasn't a medical note.
It wasn't a treatment plan.
It was a countdown.
Detective Collins sat beside me while I tried to process what I was seeing.
"Who else?" I finally asked.
"We don't know."
"Then why did you say he wasn't alone?"
"Because the notebook isn't the only thing we found."
She opened another folder.
"There were bank transfers."
I frowned.
"What do bank transfers have to do with my infection?"
"That's what we're trying to determine."
She slid a photograph across the table.
It showed a series of transactions from Luca's account.
Large amounts.
Five thousand dollars.
Ten thousand.
Twenty-five thousand.
The recipients were different.
But the descriptions were almost identical.
Consulting.
Medical supplies.
Research.
I stared at them.
"Luca doesn't have that kind of money."
Detective Collins looked at me.
"Apparently, he does."
I felt something cold settle in my stomach.
"Where did it come from?"
"We're investigating."
I thought about our marriage.
The arguments about money.
The months when Luca claimed his streaming business wasn't doing well.
The times he told me we needed to cut expenses.
The vacation he said we couldn't afford.
The credit card he insisted I stop using.
All while money was apparently moving through accounts I didn't know existed.
"Did he steal from me?"
"We don't know."
She paused.
"But there are transfers from a joint account."
My eyes widened.
"How much?"
"Approximately eighty-seven thousand dollars over eleven months."
I stared at her.
Eighty-seven thousand.
Money we had saved together.
Money I thought was sitting in our emergency fund.
Money I had believed would eventually help us buy a house.
Luca hadn't been broke.
He had been hiding money.
"Why?"
"We don't know yet."
"Then find out."
My voice sounded different.
Stronger.
Detective Collins noticed.
"That's exactly what we're doing."
She stood.
Before leaving, she looked back.
"There's one more thing."
"What?"
"We haven't arrested him."
I swallowed.
"Why not?"
"Because we want the evidence to be airtight."
I nodded.
"Good."
She gave me a strange look.
"What?"
"I expected you to ask us to arrest him immediately."
"I want him arrested."
"Then why aren't you angry?"
I looked down at my bandaged ankle.
"I am."
I touched the edge of the blanket.
"I'm just too tired to scream."
After she left, I closed my eyes.
For the first time in seven days, I allowed myself to stop defending Luca.
I remembered every moment.
Every dismissive smile.
Every time he told me to sleep.
Every time he changed the dressing.
Every time I asked whether we should see a doctor.
And suddenly, details I had ignored began connecting themselves.
The first night.
The sting.
The silver object.
The smell.
I remembered it now.
Something sharp and chemical.
Not antiseptic.
Something sweet.
I opened my eyes.
"Excuse me."
The nurse came in.
"Yes?"
"I need to tell Detective Collins something."
She called her.
Twenty minutes later, Detective Collins returned.
"What did you remember?"
"The smell."
She sat down.
"What did it smell like?"
"Sweet."
"Anything else?"
"Almost like almonds."
She immediately wrote it down.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
She looked toward Detective Price.
He made a phone call.
I watched them.
"What does that mean?"
"We'll have the lab check for specific compounds."
I nodded.
Then something occurred to me.
"Luca used to work at a laboratory."
Detective Collins stopped writing.
"What laboratory?"
"A private research company."
"What did he do?"
"Data management."
"Name?"
I told her.
Her expression changed.
"Why?"
"Because I think that's where he learned things he wasn't supposed to know."
The detectives exchanged a glance.
Then Detective Collins stood.
"We'll be back."
That afternoon, my mother arrived.
I hadn't called her.
The hospital must have reached her emergency contact.
She walked through the door carrying a small overnight bag and immediately burst into tears when she saw me.
"Oh, honey."
She hugged me carefully.
I cried into her shoulder.
For the first time since I got sick, I felt safe.
"I should have listened to you," I whispered.
She pulled back.
"What?"
"You told me something was wrong."
She shook her head.
"I told you I didn't like him."
"I know."
"That's not the same thing."
I smiled weakly.
"No."
She sat beside me.
"What happened?"
I looked at her.
"I don't know yet."
Then I told her everything.
The fever.
The wound.
The hospital.
The police.
The syringe.
The notebook.
By the time I finished, she was pale.
"Jessi."
"What?"
"Did you tell them about the locked room?"
I froze.
"What locked room?"
"The room in your basement."
I stared at her.
"We don't have a locked room."
"Your father told me Luca asked him about security systems."
My stomach tightened.
"When?"
"Three months ago."
Three months.
Long before the fever.
Long before the wound.
Long before I suspected anything.
My mother reached into her purse.
"I found this in your mailbox."
She handed me an envelope.
My name was written on the front.
I recognized the handwriting.
Luca.
I stared at it.
"Don't open it."
My mother looked frightened.
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Then the door opened.
Detective Collins walked in.
Her eyes immediately went to the envelope.
"Where did you get that?"
"My mother brought it."
"Don't touch it."
The room went silent.
Detective Collins put on gloves.
She took the envelope.
"Did you open it?"
"No."
"Good."
She placed it into an evidence bag.
Then she looked at me.
"Jessi, where exactly was this found?"
"My mailbox."
"When?"
"This morning."
She looked at Detective Price.
"That's impossible."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"Because your mailbox was searched by officers at six this morning."
My heart began pounding.
"Then who put it there?"
Nobody answered.
Detective Collins opened a second folder.
"We have surveillance footage."
She showed me a still image.
A man in a baseball cap stood outside my house.
His face was hidden.
But I recognized the jacket.
Luca's jacket.
My blood ran cold.
"That's him."
Detective Collins nodded.
"We think so."
"Then arrest him."
"We're trying."
She paused.
"But we have a bigger problem."
"What?"
"The man in the video isn't Luca."
I stared at her.
"What?"
"We confirmed Luca was somewhere else at that exact time."
My mother grabbed my hand.
"Then who was at the house?"
Detective Collins looked at me.
"We don't know."
She opened the envelope carefully.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
May you like
There was only one sentence.
"YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO WAKE UP."
