Page 26 of Vicious King

We walked in silence. A wide wooden bench overlooked a duck pond in the park, and we sat down there. The fog was extra thick over the water and illuminated by the cast iron lampposts surrounding the pond. It gave it an eerie yellow glow.

I turned to the doctor. “So what is it?”

He was silent for another few seconds. “Have I ever told you how I came to be employed by your father?” he finally asked.

“Nope.” I turned my head slightly to the side and rolled my eyes. I didn’t want some trip down memory lane. I wanted him to get to the fucking point. He’d already left me in silent suspense for the last ten minutes.

“About five years ago, I was in trouble. A patient falsely accused me of something, and everyone believed him. I was close to losing my medical license. But then your father approached me. He said a doctor who worked for him had just left, and he needed someone to replace him. He also said he’d heard about my issues, and he’d make sure they’d go away if I accepted the position. Not only that, it was only four days a week on a private island for more than quadruple my old salary. Almost sounded too good to be true. I said yes, and he was right—all my problems vanished, and I was allowed to retain my license.”

“So my dad bribed someone at the Medical Board to help you. What a shock.”

He raised a gentle hand in the air. “Please, let me continue,” he said. I nodded. “Anyway,” he went on. “As part of my contract, I had to agree to never speak about my work with anyone, and I wasn’t supposed to ask any questions. Ever.”

“Sounds about right.”

“The job itself is actually very quiet and easy for me. I write prescriptions and send off samples for testing. That’s ninety-five percent of it. But I’m not completely blind or naïve. I’ve come to realize the island is—or was, before the storm—some sort of training facility for young prostitutes who want to serve Crown and Dagger.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what it is. Hence the name of the main building.”

He leaned forward. “I’m not exactly in agreement with the existence of prostitution in general, but on the other hand, I’m not stupid. As long as there are people with money, there’ll be people who want to pay for sex. All kinds of it. None of my business in the end. And like I said, the hours and money are great. So I’ve always kept up my side of the deal: never asked questions, never discussed it with anyone.”

I sighed with exasperation. “Can you get to the fucking point already?”

“This is important, Elias. So you understand where I’m coming from.”

“Okay. Fine.” I let out a sharp, impatient breath.

“I don’t have much actual contact with the young ladies. Nurse Fernandez does most of the face-to-face stuff, and it seems like the women are under some sort of strict orders not to speak with most people anyway. But despite that, over the last few years, I’ve seen and heard a few things which gave me pause.”

“Such as?”

He shook his head slowly. “Just a few things here and there. A lot of the men in the society seem to have rather dark tastes. There’s been strange injuries I’ve had to treat, allegedly resulting from accidents during coitus. Some odd behavior from the girls on the rare occasion I see them instead of Nurse Fernandez. And more recently, the incident with Tatum Marris and your father.”

So I wasn’t the only one who still found that whole thing totally fucking bizarre. Now I was actually starting to get interested in what he had to say again. “Go on.”

“But there’s never been anything that really made my antennae tingle, so to speak. Not until your DNA results came back. That’s what we need to discuss. I found your egg donor.”

I cocked my head to the side, my pulse picking up its pace. “What’s that got to do with the Finishing School?”

He lowered his voice. “I’m not exactly sure yet. Maybe nothing. But your results pinged an FBI Missing Persons DNA database.”

“What?”

“The FBI keeps track of all missing persons cases, and whenever friends or family members hand in items that belonged to a person, like a brush, DNA can be taken and added to their profile in that database. Even with very old cold cases. So that way—”

I held up a hand. “I understand what it is. I meant like… what the fuck? Was I kidnapped as a baby or something?”

“No. It wasn’t you on the database. It was a woman named Camille Gorham. Your DNA results provided a direct familial match to her. Does that name ring any bells?”

I scrunched up my face. “Maybe. Sounds familiar but I don’t know why.”

“She was a Roden student who disappeared a long time ago.”

“That’s where I’ve heard of it, then. All those dumb Roden Strangler stories.”

“Yes, probably.”

“So the donor who helped my mom and dad disappeared? That’s pretty shitty.”

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