Page 39 of Beautiful Prey

Anger stirred in my chest. “I’ve been doing all I can,” I snapped as thunder rolled softly from outside. Rain pattered on the window next to Dr. Langley's desk, cutting out the silence.

“Not enough,” Dr. Hannah replied. “But how could you? Expecting a student to do more than a professional is a fantastical idea regardless. But you did try, I'll give you that.”

I clenched my jaw. “Emery trusts me. But he still needs our patience and understanding.”

“What he needs is tough love. Something I think you are too afraid to provide.”

My hands clenched into fists. “I can give him love!”

They both looked at me curiously.

“Tough love,” I clipped out. “But I don’t think it will help. It will only hurt.”

Dr. Hannah sighed, looking over to Dr. Langley. “I think now would be good to make him aware that if he continues to refuse treatment, he will be forced to leave this place.”

“No.” I stood, and they both turned to me, Dr. Hannah’s face twisting like a bulldog’s.

“No?” she said.

“I mean, let me,” I said carefully. “I’ll tell him.”

She looked unimpressed. “Fine. But I hope he believes you or I will make sure he does.”

I returned to the hotel that night with my laptop open but unable to write. Instead, I stared at the lake as the storm passed.

I had to figure out something, some other way to get him to take the pills.

I could offer food to him with the meds hidden, but they had tried that before and he had figured it out. And once he did, I would lose his trust forever.

Other methods were just unsavory. Like making deals that I would not be able to keep. If he found out the lie, he would stop right away. Trying to trick him just felt pointless.

Maybe when I was forced to tell him he would be transferred to prison, that would give him the incentive to try.

I could only hope.

Trying to take my mind off it, I decided I would focus back on getting into that safe. I had put it aside in order to focus on Emery, but now, with the threat of his transfer, I wanted the info that might be hidden, that could tell me more of what I needed to know.

Eventually, I turned away from the window and went to a restless sleep. The dreams were morphing into some new animal that left my sheets tangled around me and my bed damp with sweat. Leaving a slick wetness between my thighs. I didn’t remember much of the dreams, chaotic as they were, but I felt fear mingled with a dark arousal I couldn’t explain. I expected night terrors, just not for them to grow into wet dreams. As if I couldn’t be more disturbed.

Once I woke, I took a shower and dressed in a gray sweater and jeans. I put on a beanie, coat, and boots and flew out the door just as the sun was peeking over the horizon.

I rifled through the drawers, shelves, and bedroom closet of my apartment until I found what I was looking for. The key to the storage unit unlike the warehouse was filled with family heirlooms and other personal items only. Nothing from the company. So I shouldn’t have any fucked-up surprises there.

By the time I got to the unit, the sun was high, no dark allies to worry about, just an old, bored manager who pointed me to the row of units.

I felt confident going in knowing Dad’s stuff from his office was inside. Only when I opened the sliding door did that confidence lower considerably.

There was only a small path to the back. Most of it was antique furniture, paintings, and boxes full of stuff. Everything else that wasn’t worth something or had little personal importance had either been thrown out or been left at the house to collect dust.

I took the first hour rifling through the boxes. Thankfully, some were labeled. My brother’s stuff, my uncle’s, then I found my father’s tucked away to one wall. Office supplies, baseball memorabilia, his god-awful cologne and a box of watches. Why some of this garbage hadn’t been thrown, I’ll never know.

There were only a few things that caught my eye. A newspaper article about the Martel murders that someone had thrown in one of the boxes, one of my mother’s necklaces that I thought had been lost, and a picture frame of my family together at a Christmas dinner party. The same year, Dad had taken me and my brother to the warehouse.

I stared at it for a long moment, at our smiling faces, my brother wearing a Santa hat while I wore antlers. Dad hugged us both while holding a glass of gin. Uncle Pete and my cousin sat on the other side of the table.

I turned the picture over and found a date. December 8, 2015. Then a memory slammed into me.

Me, my brother, and Dad in the warehouse. Terri was packing something to take out as Dad requested while I stood nearby. Then Dad went to the office.

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