The more I glance around, taking in my surroundings, the more I feel my temper rise. I have to pause and dutifully remind myself that she’s not my problem anymore. That’s not why I’m here. I’m here for answers. To see that she’s okay for my own peace of mind and figure out why the fuck she did what she did. What was her ultimate goal? To see us all rot behind bars? Or was it something much more sinister?
I bypass the heavy wooden front doors that lead into a foyer of sorts. With bland walls and even worse flooring, the foyer leads to sliding glass doors, which I can only assume keep the patients from escaping out of those double doors so easily. The sliding glass doors open into a sterile lobby with patrolling security and someone working the front desk. I give my name, and I’m instructed to sign and date my visit in a logbook before I can be buzzed in.
Once I’m finally inside the heart of the building, I take in the subpar space and the mental patients around me. A group of them is watching mindless TV while another group sits around a table playing cards. It’s quite literally what you’d expect to see inside a mental institution. This is exactly how it’s portrayed in films with patients walking around, talking to themselves and others sticking together in groups, sneaking paranoid glances over their shoulders.
I take it all in stride, scouring the patients’ faces, looking for Mackenzie, but she’s nowhere to be found.
“Mr. King. You came.”
I turn toward the sound of the voice, keeping my expression impassive. There’s no mistaking the mild hostility in her tone, hidden by a false note of acceptance. The woman I’ve had the displeasure of arguing on the phone with constantly looks just as I’d expect her to. Dr. Aster looks as severe and annoying as I knew she would. With square-rimmed glasses and a head full of gray hair pulled back into a sleek bun, she’s adopted an expression of no-nonsense.
“I just donated two million to your facility. Did you really think I wouldn’t come?”
She smiles, but it comes off as more of a grimace. “Of course. Follow me back to my office.”
We pass down the fluorescent-lit hallways, and the entire way, I keep my eyes peeled for Mackenzie. I don’t know where she is or where they’re keeping her. Dr. Aster has made it clear over the phone she can’t share her patients’ details, per client-patient privilege, so I decided to come here. Other than telling me Mackenzie was indeed alive, I know nothing more about her or her condition. I have no clue what grounds they have for keeping her here. She gave her statement to the police. The only thing I can think is she’s playing the role of an insane person to stay out of trouble after the accident and the break-in at Zach’s.
Once we settle in her office, I flatten my palms against my knees and lean forward. The move is intimidating, especially with my size. She doesn’t cower like most others do, but I see the tic in her jaw all the same. She doesn’t like me asserting my dominance over her in her space. I almost grin at the thrill it gives me.
“Where is she?”
She scoffs, pushing the tip of her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Mr. King, I cannot tell you anything about any of my patients. You’re not her family, you are not in any way in charge of her conservatorship status, and you’re not on her approved visitors’ list.”
My smile turns ugly. I see it in the reflection of her glasses. She cowers, but not like normal people would. She’s seen too much crazy in her line of work to let others know when she’s scared or uncomfortable, like she is now. It’s a subtle movement, the way she sinks back, keeping a safe distance away.
“You’re going to tell me what I want to hear. You’re going to let me see her. I don’t give a shit if it’s against your policy or not. Do you know how easy it would be for me to ruin you?” I ask, keeping my voice low and even. There’s no need to get angry or show too much of my hand, not when she knows I’m right.
Her mouth twitches in displeasure as she mulls over the options in her head. She must come to some conclusion, deciding to give in. Just as I knew she would. She heaves a deep sigh that seems pent-up. It probably comes with the territory of the job.
“Look, I didn’t want to do this, but Mackenzie…she’s not in any headspace to have visitors.”
I straighten, my jaw clenching at her words. “And why is that?”
“Well…” She pauses, something akin to fear glimmering in her eyes, and fidgets in her chair. “She wasn’t in her right mind when she was brought in. That’s why her parents sent her here. They have full conservatorship over her because, at this point in her life, she’s been deemed incompetent. Maybe even a hazard to others, as well as herself.”
“How so?”
She quirks a brow. “Well, for starters, she seemed to think her dead sister saved her life the night of the accident, and on top of the many conversations she’s apparently had with her, she seemed to believe you and your friends were murderers. She claims the night of the accident, your friend was the one who followed her and tried to kill her. There are obvious holes in her story, and things that don’t make sense. She’s been hallucinating, claims there is someone out to get her. She’s paranoid. It’s one of the main reasons I think it’s in her best interest that her parents keep her here.”
Talking to her dead sister? I wasn’t expecting that.
“I couldn’t care less about all of that. Take me to her.”
Dr. Aster chuckles as if what I’ve just said is amusing. She pulls her glasses down the bridge of her nose, watching me. “Believe me, Mr. King. I think you’re the last person she wants to see.”
My hands curl into fists, the only giveaway of my frustration. “And why is that?”
“We’ve had a discussion about you. You’re not exactly her favorite person at the moment.” At my silence, she sighs. “I asked her to say your name and state the emotions that come with saying your name, and do you want to know what was said?”
Fuck no.
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyway?”
“Pain. Betrayal. Anger. That’s how she feels when she thinks of you. Those are the emotions she associates with you, and honestly, from a doctor’s standpoint, I don’t think it’s in her best interest to see you. In fact, it may only make things worse. Especially after the incident.”
My brows dip, concern filling my body. “I wasn’t made aware of an incident.”
She fidgets in her chair, obviously uncomfortable with the news she has to deliver. “You’re not her next of kin. Of course you wouldn’t be made aware. Her parents have been updated on the situation, and even though they’ve yet to come see her, it’s…as I said, she’s not well.”
“Fucking spit it out,” I grit.
“She had an altercation with one of the patients. Accused her of fraternizing with the enemy. Whatever that was supposed to mean.” She sighs. “While the guards took her down, something happened. As they were pulling both women off each other, she slammed her head against the table, cracked her skull before hitting the ground.”
I feel the air leave my chest like someone has kicked me.
What the fuck is she saying right now?
“What exactly are you trying to tell me, Doctor?” My voice is cold, laced with venom. I lean forward slowly, the atmosphere in the space of her office filling with tension. Her eyes widen at the underlying threatening tone in my voice. She works a swallow.