“And the reason for your call?” I prompt him to hurry him along.

“I was certain, with how intelligent you are, that you’d have put it all together by now, Dr. St. James.”

He’s baiting me. Otherwise he would have already told me what he wants me to know. From what I’ve heard from the psych department at Briar, Dr. Torres is suffering a form of persecutory delusion. Which, I have no doubt Kallum helped exasperate, but he didn’t create the psychosis.

“I’m ending the call now, Dr. Torres. Please make sure to take your scheduled medications and do the work to get well. I wish you the best.”

“Professor Locke was communicating with your suspect.”

The dark, chilly waters funnel over my head as a sinking feeling tows me under the iceberg.

I draw the shades closed across the window. “While he was remanded at Briar,” I say, needing to hear him say it audibly, clearly.

“Yes, Halen.”

“You want me to believe that Kallum was in contact with the Hollow’s Row suspect before I came to the institution.” I speak the words slowly, deliberately, so I can hear each one for myself in some lucid format.

“Yes,” he bites out, his teeth ground in frustration. “His manipulation of that person is, in fact, the very reason for your visit.”

My chest pangs with a residual ache, the floor beneath my feet shifts. “Dr. Torres, I don’t see how that’s possible.”

His chuckle is derisive. “You don’t think a talented mind like Kallum’s, who deftly manipulated a court hearing to obtain a judgement of not guilty by reason of insanity, could maneuver you onto a case?” His smile falls. “You know the truth.”

The anchor tethered to my ankles tightens, the weight submerging me farther down the obscure void.

I sit on the corner of the bed, stare at Torres’s blood-shot eyes through the screen. His gaze isn’t on me, he’s watching my reflected image as I’m watching his. “You have a sick obsession with Kallum,” I say, keeping my voice steady.

“I’d argue you do as well, Dr. St. James.”

“I refuse to hear anything more on this matter until some proof is produced.” Despite every cell in my body screaming, I owe Kallum my trust.

“Fine,” Torres snaps sharply. “I can see the demon has his talons sank deep. I have plenty of evidence for the criminologist who needs proof. But once you see it, I want your word you’ll help me get out of here.”

A small measure of relief loosens the tight cavities of my heart. So this is Torres’s motive. Playing into his delusion will only further his psychosis. I shouldn’t have answered the call.

“Sure, Dr. Torres,” I say. “Once you provide this evidence, I’ll gladly help secure your release.”

As I go to end the call, he says, “I am sorry, Halen. I was an opportunist, and single-mindedly focused on my case study. For not being truthful with you and allowing the manipulation to go this far, I am sorry.”

My thumb hovers over the red button. I school my features even as a tiny fissure of doubt cracks my resolve. “It’s all right,” I assure him, trying to placate the doctor. “You were a pawn.”

“I’m afraid when it comes to the great Professor Locke, we are all pawns,” he says. “Even you, Dr. St. James.”

Three beeps signal the call disconnecting, and still I stare at the screen after it’s gone dark. I’m reaching for the anchor tether, desperate for a breath as my lungs ache from the pressure.

A knock sounds at the room door to mercifully pull me out of my spiraling thoughts. I pocket my phone, the device feeling heavy, and open the door to find Hernandez on the other side.

A deep groove carves the skin between his thick eyebrows. “What is it?” I ask.

“The ME report came back on the vic from the recent scene,” he says, like he’s pausing for dramatic effect. I widen my eyes to urge him on. “While it was confirmed she had a rare disease, that’s not how she died.”

“Gael, just say it.”

“Hemlock poisoning.”

The last bit of solid ground erodes beneath my feet. I’m falling through a crag at the bottom of the ocean basin, a vortex sucking me down past any rays of light.

“All right,” I say, trying to sort my thoughts. “Let me get ready and grab my bag.” I toss a glance around his shoulder at Kallum’s room door.

“Do you want me to grab them?” he questions, referring to Kallum and Dr. Keller.

Doubt is poison injected into my bloodstream. I can only shake my head in answer, my voice lost.

I close the door and glance at the safe, where I stashed the carving knife. One second to deliberate, then I unlock it and shove the bagged knife into my tote. I pack everything else that remains into my suitcase. I hesitate a moment as I look at the nightstand before I stuff the necklace into my pocket.

Then I meet Hernandez in the hallway with all my belongings.

I won’t be returning.

OceanofPDF.com

10

OceanofPDF.com

FORCES COLLIDE

OceanofPDF.com

HALEN

The medical examiner’s office is located in the minor building adjacent to the police department. In smaller towns, they’re even sometimes nested within the same building. This is a convenience for more than just town officials; it’s convenient for any person who wants to tamper with evidence and reports.

The chilly air is laced with the stringent scent of antiseptic as Hernandez and I wait at a stainless-steel table in the main office for Rebecca Forester, the chief ME of the county. She was brought in the first day of the investigation to assist the office when dismembered eyes were discovered on eerie marsh trees.

She arrives with a couple folders and a tablet nestled in her thin arms. “I just gave this information to Agent Rana,” she says, as if we’re disrupting her process. Which, admittedly, after the abuse of this office and scrutiny it’s been under due to the evidence tampering, I understand her distrust.

Regardless, she hands me the tablet. I scan the document, confirming the finding of hemlock poisoning to Bethany Elsen. A puncture wound was discovered at the base of her spine, the same location as Leroy Landry—the beast of a man who attacked me and Kallum at the ritual crime scene.

I set the tablet on the table, disbelief clawing at my conscience. “We need to see the body,” I say.

Her slight features purse. “My findings are sound.”

“No one is questioning your autopsy,” I say. “I need to know if there were any markings on the body I overlooked.” I accept full responsibility of my negligence. I was distracted at the scene, moving too quickly through it, wanting to shut down my own pain.

Hernandez’s phone rings to break the tension, and he accepts the video call. A partial view of Agent Rana’s face appears on the screen. “Good, you already have St. James with you.” Apparently, she hasn’t yet checked her email to receive my notice. “I’ve been trying to keep this quiet from the media, but the medical reports have leaked that the local victims were all terminally ill.”

Hernandez adjusts the phone. “How was this kept so quiet from us?”

She flashes a look my way. “The medical histories were buried. Nearly half of the victims weren’t initially town residents, having moved here beforehand from other states.”

I see Devyn before me in the cave, her eyes flashing wild when she said: I’ve liberated them.

She wanted to liberate them from the suffering of their illnesses, their pending physical deaths. She could have been communicating with these people for years before they moved here to disappear.

“What I want to know is how you put this together, St. James?” Rana asks me.