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Amanda is cutting out from her shift early and tells me she’ll be home by seven, so I arrive at the brownstone an hour before that to give myself time.

This morning, I gave Blake a bag of cookies laced with tetrodotoxin. It’s not clear how quickly the toxin will work, but it won’t kill him right away. I dosed it low enough that I calculated he won’t die for at least four to six hours after eating the cookies I gave him. But he very well might not have eaten them right away.

The timing is crucial. He needs to be alive or recently deceased when Amanda comes home. Because if he is dead, there’s no way the police will think he stabbed her to death. And they need to think that he killed her, then committed suicide. I’ll stash the rest of the bottle of toxin in the drawer of his bedroom.

Death from tetrodotoxin usually occurs from respiratory failure. Over the course of several hours, Blake will have increased difficulty swallowing and speaking, with significant confusion, seizures, and irregular heartbeats. Of course, there’s a chance he might go to the hospital, but considering he has no health insurance, he will consider that a last resort. I’m hoping that he will chalk it up to a flu-like illness and try to sleep it off. I expect to find him lying on the sofa or in his bed, either dead or in significant respiratory distress.

All this is the expected outcome, but as I unlock the door to my old home, I feel an unexpected wave of sadness wash over me.

Blake might be dead.

I didn’t feel bad about killing Elijah. He had such a pathetic life, it almost felt like I was putting him out of his misery. And then there was Stacie, who was a cheating bitch. And Mr. Zimmerly, who was old and unhappy. Even Jordan felt different. I loved Jordan, but in that immature, teenage way.

It’s different with Blake. I loved him with all my heart. I had imagined a life with him in a very concrete way. I wore his ring. I imagined starting a family with him. And I had believed he felt the same way.

And now…

It will be hard to look at him lying on our shared bed, dead or unconscious, and knowing for sure that the future we dreamed of is gone forever.

Why did you cheat, Blake? Why couldn’t you have been a good guy like I thought you were? Why couldn’t you have meant it when you said you loved me and only me?

My heart is pounding as I walk into the house. I make a beeline for the sofa, bracing myself for what I might find there. But no. He’s not there. He must be upstairs, in bed.

I walk up the steps to the second floor, knowing that this is it. He will be lying in bed, very likely as dead as Elijah. I walk as slowly as I can, not wanting to see it. But then when I get to the bedroom…

He’s not here either.

Dammit. Where is he?

Maybe he really did go to the emergency room. I had been banking on the fact that he wouldn’t do that, but maybe I misjudged him. And if that’s the case, the jig is up. The doctors in the emergency room will surely know that he was poisoned, and it won’t be hard for them to put two and two together. Especially when they find that note I slipped into his pocket.

I take my phone out of my purse, trying to figure out my next move. Then I notice I have a missed call from him as well as a text message. I read the text, and then I listen to the message.

Okay. Interesting .

This might work out after all.