Page 161 of Hunting Pretty

The realization sent a wave of terror crashing through me, making my knees weak, my heart pounding like it was trying to escape.

I was next in his sick game.

Suddenly the room felt smaller, the walls closing in as the truth settled over me like a suffocating weight.

I could feel Dr. Vale’s eyes on me as I held my phone more tightly to keep from shaking.

I became hyper-aware of my every movement, sure that he could sense what I’d just learned by my breathing alone.

But what I knew wasn’t enough.

If I took the pills to the police and had them test the pills, all that proved was that Dr. Vale gave Liath something to repress her memories.

I had to get Dr. Vale to admit to abusing Liath.

I had to get him to admit he took Liath.

I cleared my throat. “Sorry, just one second.”

I pretended to turn the phone off, but instead I opened up a recording app and hit record.

I placed the phone back into my purse and hoped that it wouldn’t muffle the sound too much.

I couldn’t leave it out. If Dr. Vale spotted that my phone was recording, he’d never give away anything.

This was my one chance to get his confession.

I was worried that my breathing was far too fast as I looked up.

There he was, seated as before in his high-backed leather chair. His thin knee crossed over his leg. His long, pale fingers bridged beneath his close-shaven chin.

He assessed me with an attentive smile on his thin lips. The man who just wanted to help me. The man who believed in my recovery. The man who was doing all he could to make me better.

The man who had drugged me with memory suppressors.

The man who had abused Liath and taken her.

“If you insist on doing DMRT, we can,” Dr. Vale said in a voice so kind I nearly cried.

My mouth was suddenly dry. I licked my lips only to find my tongue parched.

I gulped down my water and refilled my glass. I knew I needed to keep my face natural. I could give no hint of what I’d just discovered.

I had to gently nudge Dr. Vale into a corner. To get him to agree with one thing, then another.

And hopefully, to admit to what he did to Liath.

I played with the rim of my glass, avoiding Dr. Vale’s eyes, and kept my voice soft and measured, pretending curiosity. “You know, maybe you’re right about DMRT. I mean, memory is so fragile, right? It can be so easily… manipulated.”

There was but a slight furrow to Dr. Vale’s eyebrows, his voice utterly composed. “Memory is a complex thing, yes. Trauma, especially, can cause it to fragment or distort.”

I took another sip of my water, pretending to be casual even as I found myself leaning forward. “Memory can even be… dangerous. Right? Especially when they remember things they shouldn’t.”

I studied his eyes, watching to see if there was a flicker of emotion.

Dr. Vale gave me nothing.

“I bet,” I continued, “that’s a tricky situation for you. If someone, let’s say, Liath, if she remembered something sheshouldn’t. Must be tempting to help her forget it again. For her own good, of course.”

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