Page 22 of Beautiful Prey

“It’s fine,” I said with little enthusiasm.

“I know it’s only the beginning. Have you started your thesis yet?”

I pursed my lips, watching a pair of seagulls fly by. Uncle Wes didn’t know I was writing about Emery. “I have.”

“Got some good material, I hope.”

“Yeah, about that. I actually might need your help. A part of my thesis is about the effects of certain medications to aid in the recovery of specific subjects I’m researching. I was thinking maybe I could come by and we could talk about it…”

“Of course. I’d be happy to help you any way I can. Are you coming by the house? May is making her chili, and Megan will be home this weekend too.”

I smiled even though he couldn’t see it. “I’m just going to stop by the office. I have a lot of schoolwork to catch up on this weekend.”

“I get it. Come by around four then, I’m leaving early.”

“See you then.” I hung up and stared at the screen, my smile fading as my hand tightened around my phone. I could hear in Uncle Wes’s voice the tinge of disappointment at not cominghome. It’s true I hadn’t been back much since I started uni. Even in the summer, I didn’t stick around, either going out camping or staying with Jamie. I just always felt weird living with Wes and his wife. Their daughter was a few years younger than me and had started college. Wes was dad’s best friend and colleague for years, so it was no surprise he didn’t hesitate to take me in. I was grateful, but there was always this small distance between us that I couldn’t shake. I always blamed myself, since I had closed myself off since the death of my family, but Wes never turned me away. He’d been patient even on my worst days.

Uncle Wes, as I always called him, had worked with my father, leading a different department. Now, with my dad gone, he was co-head of the research facility.

A facility that involved testing in several medical fields. Neuroscience and pharmaceuticals particularly.

I couldn’t deny any longer that Emery’s past might be connected to my family and their company. It was too big a coincidence now what he had told me and the kind of research they might have been doing. I didn’t want to believe it, the very idea was what put dread in my heart, but if there was any evidence, I was determined to find it.

I walked along the marina and grabbed myself a coffee and bagel before heading back to the hotel. For the rest of the morning and early afternoon, I worked on my paper while doing a little of my research.

Storm clouds threatened to the north east across the water as I left the hotel and headed down toward Detroit where the main office was located. Just because I was the daughter of the ex-owner didn’t grant me access to anything. But I was confident I could get Uncle Wes to grant me some.

As I turned onto the main highway, my phone went off. I glanced down to see it was Jamie.

I almost let it go at first, then before the last ring, I picked it up.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Are you coming home this weekend?” Jamie asked.

“As in to my apartment? I wasn’t planning on it, why?”

He made an exasperated noise. “Lena’s having another party again. I figured since you didn’t make the last one...you should come.”

“I got a lot going on.”

“All the more reason to say fuck it and hang with us, let loose. Lena wouldn’t stop whining to me about you ghosting her.”

“I didn’t—” I sighed, gripping the wheel. “I didn’t ghost her, I texted her and told her I was busy and I would get back to her later.”

“Well, you didn’t get back to her quick enough and now she’s all bent about it. She’s telling everyone you hate her.”

I threw up a hand in annoyance. “Seriously?”

He chuckled. “No. Well, sort of. She was joking…I think. Listen, I know what’s happening to you.”

“What’s that exactly?” I asked.

“You’re getting obsessed again. I get it, I disappeared for three days after studying the Savanna Killer, too. Crazy sonofabitch used a set of bear traps to mangle his victims and make it look like a wild animal ripped them apart. I was fucking riveted. You know what I did to keep myself sane? I drank. With friends!”

“I’m not—” I almost said obsessed. But then thinking about the last couple weeks, I realized I hadn’t seen or talked much to anyone. Except for my family's murderer. How fucked was that?

“You're obsessed,” he concluded. “You’re fixated and spiraling out of control and need someone to pull you out.”

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