I nod slowly, reevaluating my approach. I actually appreciate his frankness. But I also don’t have time to debate the ethics, which is one of the reasons I chose my career path over the medical field.

“I wouldn’t think you’d want to impede this investigation, Dr. Torres. Because, despite any vain professional desire to analyze a mind like Kallum’s to further your research, I’d assume you’d rather be helpful, and in doing so, get more acclaim.” I smile chastely. “Briar’s patient, under your direct care and supervision, helps authorities solve a crime.”

His features pinch in serious deliberation before he erupts in laughter. He rubs the creases along the corner of his eye. “Oh, I have no desire to impede your investigation, and I also have no desire to be a part of the media show, or the fallout.”

Maybe I took my bad-cop persona a bit too far. “Thank you, then?”

He sobers, readjusting his glasses. “As much as I want Kallum removed from my facility, I’m afraid that isn’t my call to make.”

“I understand,” I say. “Kallum should’ve been locked in a penitentiary and not a hospital.” Out of the two-hundred and fifty facilities nationwide, which are all overpopulated and understaffed, Briar is a retreat in comparison to a prison.

“Then you should have done your job better.”

Now I’m offended. “If you don’t think he belongs in your facility, then why is he still here? If he’s not actually mentally ill, that is.”

“Oh, he’s absolutely fucking insane.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is that your professional opinion?”

He makes a throaty sound of amusement, then jots a note on the page. “Miss St. James, there are many gray areas where the legal system is concerned. I’d dare say that, obtaining a judgement of not guilty by reason of insanity is the most difficult judgment to obtain. But if one is highly intelligent and knows the system, it’s also the easiest to manipulate.”

My head throbs at my temples, impatience raking my nerves. “Wait, I’m confused. Now you’re saying he’s not insane? Which one is it, Dr. Torres?”

He holds out the sheet of paper. “The mind is the most powerful force in the known universe,” he says. “This, at least, we can all agree on. If the mind believes a thing to be true, then the mind makes it true. And a brilliant mind can be the worst affliction.”

I open my mouth, but the words stall on my tongue. Instead, I accept the paper and glance at his scribbled writing.

Get this demon out of my hospital. Call Joseph Wheeler.

A phone number is listed below the name.

My heart rate climbs, reminiscent of the last day in court when I waited—breath bated—for the verdict on Kallum’s hearing. The man across from me has the same bated hope welling in his eyes many of the jurors had in that moment.

Honestly, I’m not sure how it happened, or why the judge allowed the verdict to be upheld. When I asked the jury to do their job and put Kallum away, this is not what I intended. The only logical explanation is that, with no physical evidence, the jury knew a guilty verdict could be appealed. By sentencing him to a hospital, he’s at least barred from the public, unable to harm anyone else.

Or…maybe not, according to Dr. Torres’s note.

“To have a patient transported out on official FBI business,” he says, “you would need a court order, of course. Wheeler can make that happen.”

I lace my arms over my chest, suddenly more than suspicious. “And I’d assume the patient would need medical supervision, like from their doctor.”

We lock gazes, and after a moment of strained silence, Dr. Torres straightens his tie again. Apparently stalling, as he’s proven he’s not one to be concerned with his unkempt appearance.

“I could refer a psychiatrist to the case,” he says, adamant on his position.

I nod, even though I feel there is no one who can control that monster. “I’ll try for a court order through my own division first, then we’ll see what else can be done.”

“Try, Miss St. James, is unacceptable.” He grabs his shirt cuff and rolls the sleeve, thrusting the fabric the rest of the way up his forearm.

Second- and third-degree burns pock the skin of his arm in horrific, disfiguring patches. My stomach drops, and I stare, aghast, at the sight.

“How did that happen?” I ask, my voice having lost its edge.

He slides his sleeve down, not bothering to button the cuff. When his gaze settles on me, I see what Dr. Torres was trying to disguise beneath his apparent eccentric nature. The stench of his fear permeates the room.

“I’m a man of science,” he says, tactfully avoiding my question. “I’m a man of logic and rational thought. Yet, I’m not too obtuse in my vain, professional pursuits”—he tosses my slight back at me—“to admit when I’m out of my depth with a patient. There is something deeply disturbed in Kallum’s psyche, and I am not the doctor to help him.”

I feel for his plight, but he still hasn’t directly stated what torture Kallum has subjected on him. I have no doubt Kallum is wreaking havoc on this man, and Dr. Torres probably already weighed the ethical dilemma on how to be rid of him—but as a woman of science myself, I need the facts stated loud and clear.

This time, I need the evidence.

“Is there anything I should be aware of in the event Kallum is remanded to a doctor and released from your care?” I ask.

Collecting himself, he considers for a moment, then: “Late onset mental illness isn’t developed later in life. Most of the time, as I’m sure you know, the illness has simply gone unchecked until it worsens and becomes evident. Kallum was previously diagnosed with brief psychotic disorder in his youth. A diagnosis revealed during his trial.”

Which was curiously suspicious. Was that really a surprise reveal, or did Kallum’s lawyer leak the diagnosis in order to sway the jury toward an insanity defense without having to change the plea after my testimony?

Like Dr. Torres stated, Kallum is intelligent enough to work the system, but it just seems too much of a risk, even for him.

Proof of the diagnoses was presented, but the details around the violent moment in history were only provided to the judge and kept from the jury and witnesses. As the file is a juvenile record, it remains sealed and inaccessible. Even to me.

“As I’m sure you also know,” he continues, “recurring bouts of violent psychotic episodes tend to be triggered by obsessive thoughts. I have noted a high level of obsessive behavior with Kallum. I would be cautious, Miss St. James, seeing as you’re a likely focal point for his obsession.”

My gaze drops to his covered arm before I meet his eyes directly. “I appreciate your concern.” He nods solemnly in reply. “Do you actually agree with the diagnosis?”

His smile is forced. “You may have to decide this for yourself, Dr. St. James. You have the credentials, after all. I would even go as far as to suggest you as the doctor to oversee Kallum in the field.”

“Absolutely not,” I say, my walls erecting. “I appreciate your endorsement, but I don’t want that responsibility.”

“Yet, you’re willing to risk others in order to have his expertise on your case.”

“We should all be willing to risk something for the greater good,” I say as I stand, hoping Dr. Torres appreciates his own sacrifice in keeping Kallum away from the public.

“One last thing,” he says, halting me. “If you do happen to use Wheeler, all I ask in return is there be a stipulation placed that Kallum is remanded to a nicer facility upon his discharge from the case.”

I hold his gaze, understanding passing between us. “Of course,” I say.

“I hope you find what you’re searching for, Dr. St. James.”

“Thank you for your time.” I turn to see myself out.

His parting statement feels oddly phrased, and it festers in the back of my mind as I exit the institution. The only thing I’m searching for are answers.