Page 7 of Exile
Gotta keep those bodies frozen.
"How many dead?" I ask.
"At least half a dozen—mostly guards."
"Mostly?" I ask cautiously, not enjoying the turn this conversation has taken.
Christopher purses his lips into a tight smile, as if the simple action might keep me from losing my shit. That's how I know it's bad—we've lost someone.
"Leighton Pierce. I believe he was a friend of yours."
A deep sigh of regret leaves me, chest tightening for a moment. "How?" I demand, rubbing my temple.
He clears his throat, probably catching on that no facial gesture or calming words will soften the incoming blow. "One of the guards pinned him down too hard. We'll have to wait for the official autopsy results but I'd say blunt force trauma—possible asphyxiation."
"Those fucking cunts," I snap, shoving him into the bookcase as I storm past toward the library doors.
There's no stopping me this time though. All Christopher can do is hastily catch up before I reach the door that leads to the foyer outside Arthur's office. It's propped open with heavy weights, and the usual guards are nowhere in sight. Officers are standing around the foyer, giving me suspicious, narrowed glances as I rush toward the man in his office.
Christopher manages to catch me just before I barrel through the doors, gripping my arm tightly as he gives the officers a firm look. "He's with me," he says again sternly, flashing his staff card.
On the other side of the door, Arthur hears the commotion, lifting his head. He pauses his conversation with a scowl, glancing around at the detectives in his office and fucking Alexander Dale.
"Hawthorne," he snarls, eyes darting between me and Christopher with anger. "What are you doing here?"
I'm just about to launch myself into the room and across his wooden desk—which I notice has been replaced since my little late night adventure with Avery in here—when Christopher shoves me behind him.
"We need to begin psych appointments immediately," he states urgently, trying to take control of the situation—of me. "Patients are upset about the events."
Alexander huffs with an air of sarcasm from his leather chair pressed against the wall. "Upset? Those delinquents started this whole mess."
"Is that the bullshit story you're going with?" I laugh darkly, bringing myself to Christopher's left-hand side. "What's wrong? Scared the authorities will find out the cold truth and realize you're the real criminals? No," I pause thoughtfully. "You're scared that the press outside may end up getting wind of the facts and tarnish your pretty little reputation."
"Grey, shut up," Christopher hisses quietly. "Let me handle this."
"Nah," I say lazily, patting his shoulder patronizingly. "I've got this,Doctor. Besides, I want to speak to Whittingham one-on-one."
My eyebrow lifts with a challenge, knowing full well Arthur won't accept it. He's nothing but a coward, hiding behind his web of lies. Arthur's jawline twitches at my test, eyes softening as he turns to the detectives and laughs calmly.
"Patients," he starts. "They keep us busy."
"Leighton Pierce is dead," I loudly announce to the room. "Killed by one of your guards.I. Want. A. Name."
Hands creep toward concealed guns as detectives watch me carefully, sensing the danger reaching its peak in theroom. But my issue isn't with them unless they make themselves a problem. I just want them here as witnesses.
Arthur stands from his desk, the color of the shiny new mahogany oak very similar to the blood I spilled over the old one. Maybe I'm an influencer now.
"The guards are currently receiving professional help for their traumatic ordeal. I'll give you one chance to return to your room, otherwise, I'll have these nice detectives take you on a trip downtown."
Oh—so the old cunt wants to play that game?
Next to me, Christopher is as stiff as a board, probably in apsychologicalstate of panic. But he's stuck in his silence, unable to speak or walk away from the train derailment taking place in front of him.
"Where is Leighton?" I ask casually. "Is he in the morgue downstairs next to your dead receptionist-slash-lover? I am intrigued to find out how she died. After all, she's been there a few days now I assume. Always makes me curious when healthy people justdrop dead."
Arthur's jaw clenches, eyes narrowing on me. To my left, Alexander doesn't appear shocked by this revelation. And why would he? I have no doubt he's involved somehow. But unlike Arthur, he's watching the exchange with disinterest, completely unfazed and not at all caring that I'm spilling their secrets. After all, who would believe me? It's just a shame the press can't hear us. I'd love to see the headlines since they rarely care about truth and justice.
"My belovedDorothea suffered a cardiac event while at work. The coroner has already been called and she has been kept safe until such time as they are available. She'll be taken from the premises and reunited with her family later today," Arthur manages to spit out calmly.
