Page 20 of Cold as Hell

“So that tracks.”

“Yes, but again, no one here has it.” She points to the page. “It’s a strong sleep aid, used to treat severe insomnia. We have people on various benzodiazepines, but even if the test incorrectly identified the subtype, no one is taking benzodiazepines in a high enough dose to drug anyone’s drink without them detecting the taste.”

“So we have no residents with severe insomnia? None of the staff?”

“Even staff are required to register drugs with me, and I have checked my list. We only have one person with severe insomnia, but he is not…” She trails off.

I lean forward. “Is he taking something similar?”

“I presume he is taking something for his insomnia, but I play no role in that part of his care. I am not the one who prescribes his medications.”

I frown. “Someone else is prescribing…?” The answer hits. There’s one other person in this town qualified to write prescriptions. But his only patient right now is Max’s older brother, Carson, and Mathias wouldn’t be prescribing a strong benzo to a thirteen-year-old boy.

Yet that doesn’t mean he couldn’t write them for himself and fill them on his trips out of Haven’s Rock. And, while they should be registered with April, this is the one person she wouldn’t insist do that. No one would insist he do that.

“Mathias,” I say.

“Yes but…” She clears her throat. “The prescription would not be for him.”

I’m about to ask who else Mathias would prescribe for. Then I realize the answer.

“Sebastian.”

I need to handle this on my own. That’s not me being territorial or obstinate. It’s the fact that it involves Mathias.

We have three mental-health professionals on staff. Kendra is a social worker, and Isabel is a psychologist. But we also have a psychiatrist—a medical doctor specializing in mental health. That would be Mathias.

Kendra and Isabel both have other jobs, and so does he. Mathias is our town butcher, and one could argue he’s not the sort of person you want having access to large knives, but again, no one refuses Mathias. Dalton grumbles that he’s not even sure how Mathias ended up following us to Haven’s Rock. Of course he knows the reason—no one dared tell Mathias no.

Okay, if we really didn’t want him here, we could have kept him out. But despite Mathias’s… quirks, he’s an excellent butcher. And a decent psychiatrist.

As Dalton and I approach the butcher shop, Storm perks up, looking for Raoul.

“I think he’s with Jacob,” I say, patting her head. Raoul has proven a fine hunting dog, and there are a very small number of people Mathias allows him to go out with, Jacob being one of them.

Dalton and I find Mathias inside the shop making sausage, which is never an auspicious moment to confront a man rumoredto have done terrible things to his victims. Yes, his “victims” were killers, but still…

“Casey,” he says, and then continues in French, which of course excludes Dalton from the conversation, but that’s nothing personal. Mathias likes me because I speak fluent French, and so that is what he uses with me. Otherwise, why talk to me at all?

“You look tired,” he says. “You are not resting enough.”

I ignore that. “This is a professional courtesy call.”

His brows shoot up. “That sounds ominous.”

I take a seat on a wooden crate as Dalton stands beside me. “Have you heard what happened to Kendra?”

“Of course. Sebastian told me. Ah. She is in need of my professional services.” He lays down his cleaver, and I may exhale a little at that. “I would strongly suggest Isabel is better suited, but I will see Kendra if she prefers. I like her. She brings the best game. Always perfectly shot and field dressed. You could take notes, Casey. You are the worst for birds. Your husband here is adequate, but Kendra is better.”

“It’s not about therapy. It’s about what was used to drug her. Temazepam.”

There’s only a split-second hesitation before he makes the connection and his lips press together. “Non.”

“I take it you’re prescribing temazepam for Sebastian’s insomnia?”

“Sebastian’s psychiatric care is not your—”

“Yes,” says a voice from the back room. As Sebastian steps through, I try not to wince. I hadn’t thought to make sure he wasn’t around. Sebastian’s French was decent when he arrived in Rockton, but he quickly realized that if he wanted Mathias’s full attention, he needed to be fluent.

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