I hate coming here, even though it’s separated from the main hospital/prison, it still has an air of hospital about it. I heard horror stories about a facility similar to this one of people going there to talk about headaches they had and then never coming out again. These places were pretty much left to their own devices at one time. Not much scares me but the thought of being locked up in here with all the crazy fucks and not being crazy myself does.
“It’s creepy as sin. Why did I have to come in?” Donovan moans and I feel the same way but I won’t let him see any weakness in me.
“Stop being a fucking pussy. You have your gun, right?” I joke. I made him lock his weapon in the car with my own.
We go through the usual security protocol and finally make it to the reception desk. I had to flash my badge to get me in this time, as I had no appointment. The receptionist is new and doesn’t bother looking up from a magazine she’s reading. I tap the desk and she holds a finger up to me, indicating for me to give her a minute. I look over to Donovan who slams his badge down on the desk on top of her magazine. She looks up and throws daggers with her eyes. Before anyone can speak, Dr. Leighton’s office door opens and a female exits. She’s wearing a Doctor’s coat. Her eyes come to rest on me and she smiles and walks over, offering her hand to shake.
“Hello, Detective Braxton. I’m Dr. Jenna Jarvis, I’m Dr. Leighton’s replacement.”
“Replacement?” I ask, confused.
“Dr. Leighton suffered a heart attack and unfortunately is no longer with us.”
“As in not with the hospital or the living?” Donovan asks.
I have to bite back a laugh and I don’t know why because it’s not really funny, but her face is a picture. Her eyes enlarge and she bites her lip and crosses her arms over her chest. “Oh, I’m sorry, I should have clarified. He’s dead, died, passed away.” She stumbles over her words and it’s amusing as hell to see someone in her profession be so unprofessional. She looks young, maybe late twenties. Then it hits me. Dr. Leighton is dead. I pull Donovan to the side and tell him to find out what he can about his death. He nods and leaves me with the Doctor.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect to take on so much so soon.” She fiddles with a bun thing she has going on with her hair, trying to tame loose strands. “Do you want to come into my office?”
I follow her inside and take the offered seat opposite her desk. “So, big shoes to fill?” I ask nodding to the plaques of Leighton’s achievements still adorning the walls.
“Well, I wanted to become a psychiatrist since I was fifteen so this was always the goal for me.”
“You appear a little young to step into such a big role.” I’m being cheeky and nosy and I know it, but I’m used to asking questions and having authority over people.
“I’m thirty-three, Detective. Any other questions you have for me? Maybe who I slept with to get me this far because I’m a woman and surely it can’t have been my hard work and driven personality?” she spits out like venom.
I hold my hands up and study her for a few silent seconds. She glares at me with a dislike I haven’t earned yet. She’s too feisty and touchy to be in her profession. “Are you sure you’re a Doctor?” I ask.
She straightens her shoulders and leans forward, placing her clasped hands on the desk in front of her. “Would you like to see my credentials, Detective?” she asks in a flirty tone, completely throwing me off. Her top is low cut and her cleavage peeks out.
“I’ll look them up, don’t worry.” I assure her and she laughs.
“You do that. Now, can I ask why you came?”
“It’s about the suicide at Grace Manor. What do you know about it?”
She sits back and looks me over before answering. “When a sick patient has a psychotic break to such a degree as the one she must have had they can deteriorate fast. There is usually a trigger, like with your brother, Ryan.”
She says his name and then waits for a reaction but she won’t get one. I know my details are in his files so she knows aspects of my life and my relationship with Ryan. She will also know everything there is to know about him. When she doesn’t get anything from me she carries on. “Then it’s like throwing a stone into the ocean and trying to catch it before it drowns.”
“What do you think the trigger was?”
“For her or Ryan?” She’s as irritating as Leighton. We know the trigger was my Dad’s letters that Ryan intercepted. He was far-gone before that but they tipped him over the edge into actually playing out the depraved thoughts he had. “I don’t know. Could be anything,” she finishes.
“Do you think he was involved?”
Her eyes close briefly and then spring open. “They will be ruling it a suicide I’m told,” she says. I nod in confirmation. “Then the evidence suggests suicide, and this wasn’t her first attempt. I will say the one thing that was different this time to the others. She sliced upwards into an artery after slicing across which is her usually MO, and she was found in the bathtub. She was known for wanting attention, and every other time, she called someone and they found her intoxicated on her bed with her wrist cut across.”
“How do you know all this? Was she Leighton’s patient?”
“No.” She bends down to reach for a drawer and pulls out a folder. “But she did spend some time on one of our wards here and was under the care of a friend of mine. I asked to look over her details and past history.”
“Why did you do that if she’s not a patient of yours?”
She sighs. “Because I believe Ryan was involved with her in some way and between me and you, Detective, after only one session with Ryan, I was left feeling uncomfortable knowing he was outside these walls.”
And there it is. “Can’t you re-admit him then?”
“Not without cause, and I have little to no evidence to overturn Dr. Leighton’s assessment. Like I said, I only met with him once.”
“My brother’s sexual preference is not for fragile little girls. If he was having sexual relations with her he could have done something to trigger her.”
“Very possible.”
“So, do you know if they were having sex?”
The door opens and the receptionist comes in, interrupting. “You have an appointment that you’re late for,” she tells Dr. Jarvis.
I stand. “Thanks for your time, Doc.”
“Detective,” she calls as I make my way to the door. She’s jotting something on a piece of paper. “I don’t have my new business cards set up yet but you know the office numbers. Here are my home and cell numbers. If you have any more questions or you want to discuss Ryan further don’t hesitate to call no matter the time.”
I pocket the piece of paper and exit.