Chapter 2 - The Days Landon Felt Stronger
Three weeks before the restaurant, Nora noticed the pattern first.
She did not call it poisoning.
She did not accuse Camille.
She simply noticed that Landon’s body seemed to behave differently depending on who had been in the house the night before.
Landon’s spinal injury was incomplete.
That word—**incomplete**—had become both hope and torture during the fourteen months since the accident.
He had sensation below the waist.
Some muscle activation.
Enough hip stability to transfer with assistance.
Enough strength, occasionally, to stand inside parallel bars.
The doctors never promised he would walk independently.
They also never told him recovery was finished.
But his progress had become strangely inconsistent.
On Monday mornings he might hold himself upright for twelve seconds.
Tuesday, after an evening alone with Camille, his legs sometimes felt like they belonged to another person.
Heavy.
Slow.
Unresponsive.
His head would ache.
His mouth would feel dry.
He would struggle to stay awake during therapy.
Camille always had an explanation.
“You pushed too hard yesterday.”
“You need to accept your limits.”
“You’re embarrassing yourself trying to prove something.”
At first Landon believed her.
Then Nora began writing things down.
Not dramatic notes.
Simple observations.
Thursday — no evening drink prepared by Camille. Strong transfer Friday morning.
Sunday — Camille stayed overnight. Landon unusually sleepy Monday.
Wednesday — declined Camille’s tea. Best standing session in nine days.
After four weeks, Nora sat across from him in the rehabilitation room and placed the notebook on his lap.
“You need to look at this.”
Landon did.
Then he laughed bitterly.
“You think Camille’s making me tired?”
“I think something is different after she gives you drinks.”
“That’s a serious accusation.”
“I didn’t make one.”
Nora tapped the notebook.
“I gave you a pattern.”
That distinction made him listen.
So they tested it without telling Camille.
The next evening, Camille prepared his usual drink.
Landon pretended to sip.
When she left the room, Nora quietly poured it into a sealed container.
Landon drank bottled water instead.
The following morning he stood for twenty-one seconds.
The longest since the accident.
Nora cried.
Landon almost did too.
But neither celebrated.
Because now the possibility hanging between them was too frightening.
That evening Camille prepared another drink.
Again Landon did not consume it.
The next morning:
Twenty-six seconds.
Then thirty-one.
Then, with a walker and Nora’s hands hovering near him, Landon took one shaky half-step.
He sat afterward trembling from exhaustion.
But he was smiling.
Nora wasn’t.
“What?”
She looked toward the bedroom corridor.
“If this keeps happening, we need to know whether she’s doing it deliberately.”
Landon’s smile disappeared.
May you like
That was when they decided to set up the camera.
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