Chapter 23 The Vigilante
Chapter twenty-three
The Vigilante
Raelynn was going to be the death of me.
Her taste was forever scorched on my tongue since the other day, and now I was addicted.
The way she moaned was unlike anything I’d ever heard.
Just thinking about it had me trying to bury the effect she had on my body.
I craved to be inside of her more than I craved the air I needed to live.
The way she had clenched on my tongue as I licked her through every wave of her orgasm drove me to the point of needing to find my own release multiple times.
More importantly, she had called me first when she needed someone.
She was starting to trust me in ways she had conditioned herself over the years to avoid, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.
Rae hadn’t just trusted me with her own secret; she trusted me to make sure the person she cared most about in the world was safe.
I was ’‘lucky she hadn’t asked how I knew where she lived, she didn’t need to know just yet that I had memorized almost every detail about her that I could find online.
Knowing that I held something as precious as her trust was greater than any part of her body she’d given me access to.
At least that’s what I told myself as I headed into my meeting with her psychiatric care team.
With her release pending next week, it was standard for everyone involved in a patient's care to meet together to make sure she was showing the desired progress before leaving the clinic.
Leaves in an array of browns, yellows, and reds littered the road leading to the campus, my Jeep gliding gracefully over them all, leaving them blowing in my wake.
The mountains really were beautiful this time of year, the colors bright against the cloudless blue sky. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere that didn’t have mountains and endless forests.
When I spoke to Caleb last night after he had retrieved the photos, I agreed with him that I would make sure Rae had a plan for when she left—either having someone stay with her or finding someone for her to stay with until the matter with her ex was settled.
He was skeptical about the story at first due to the rumors at the police station.
He agreed to keep an open mind and had no reason to think that I was fabricating facts to him.
Caleb had a good head on his shoulders and was one of the few uncorrupted cops I knew.
Most weren’t even corrupted by greed or status.
More often than not, most who worked in our town were simply just lazy.
It was easier to label a girl as crazy than it was to try to go up against a prominent family that gave extremely generous donations to local law enforcement charity events.
I’d give him a fair chance to handle this through the justice system, though I wouldn’t say no if an opportunity presented itself to me to handle it with my own brand of justice.
Caleb could only do so much through his job; if he was told to let something go by his superiors, he had to follow their orders.
I was under no such compulsion, and I would never put him in a position to put his job in jeopardy.
Dr. Stephen's office was located on the fourth floor of the psychiatric building.
The same floor as the individual therapists, though his office was on the opposite wing, where more administrative offices were located.
I pulled up the sleeve on my sweater as I made my way down the hall, checking my watch.
I was five minutes early and would probably still be the last to arrive.
Everyone in this place seemed to have situational anxiety when it came to being punctual.
I paused at the very last door at the end of the hall and knocked. Just like every other door around here, you needed a keycard to gain access. Since Dr. Stephens was the head of the department, the only access card that opened his office was his own.
Jessica greeted me at the door, sharply put together in another business casual pantsuit with her hair pulled back to reveal her high cheekbones, not a single strand out of place.
The way she adorned nice clothes was similar to how a soldier might don a uniform fit for battle. Her appearance was her armor shield.
“Good morning,” she said by way of greeting, shutting the door behind me as I joined the rest of Raelynn's psychiatric care team surrounding Dr. Stephens in his large, pretentious office.
Joining us this morning, along with Dr. Stephens—who really was more a figurehead than a regularly practicing doctor lately—was the psychiatrist assigned to Raelynn upon her transfer to the clinic, Dr. Kathrine Regeal.
Kathrine, never Kat or Kathy, was in her fifties, neither slim nor overweight.
The one word that could best describe her appearance was average.
She wasn’t ugly or breathtakingly appealing.
If she stood in a crowd, her face would be easily forgettable.
However, her personality more than made up for her lack of outstanding outward appearance.
Dr. Regeal genuinely cared about her patients, always taking time to go over their charts and listen to their concerns before prescribing medication.
She was a human who suffered like everyone else with errors in her work, but she didn’t give up until she found the right medication combination that best suited her patients.
To my knowledge, she only met Raelynn once to prescribe a mild anxiety medication during her stay here.
“Mr Bradshaw, thank you so much for joining us,” Dr Stephens stated as I took a seat next to Jessica across from his ostentatious desk. “Mrs. Kent was just giving us her update on Miss Devlin’s progress.”
I inwardly groaned, berating myself for not getting here even earlier. Of course, he had started without me; it wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. For someone who spent their days seated behind a desk and planning golfing trips, patience wasn’t their virtue.
“She’s been doing very well with her recommended program, despite the fact that she’s been borderline harassed by other patients,” I added.
There was no point arguing with him that, as her individual therapist, it would have been better for him to wait.
Dr. Stephens did what he wanted as long as it didn’t interfere with his afternoon at the country club; he rarely concerned himself with how his clinic functioned.
“I’ve heard about Mr. Everett's behavior. Luckily, with her upcoming release, Miss Devlin won't have to be exposed to his lude actions much longer. Have we heard from his lawyer yet?”
“He called me yesterday to be his liaison with his client. I informed him that Mr. Everetts was having severe clinical signs of depression and during our session yesterday, he made multiple comments that he wasn’t going to go to prison.”
“In the way that he might try to do something?” Dr. Stephens asked for clarification, and I had to tread lightly. If they were to put him on suicide watch, it could seriously fuck with my plans.
“He was adamant that he wasn’t suicidal, but he’s hard to get a read on and spends most of his time talking about his victim.
If I had to make a professional assesment, I would advise not to move him to suicide watch just yet.
In our next session, I’m going to try harder to help him process the feelings he’s having about facing jail time. ”
“That’s good to hear,” Dr Stephens said dismissively.
He didn’t care about Brandon; he just didn’t want to deal with the paperwork if a patient was able to find a way to hurt themselves at the clinic.
I was beginning to learn it was a real headache for him when I decided some patients were better off dead than repeating the perverse acts that landed them on my radar.
“My opinion is that Miss Devlin's release should still be scheduled for next week. Unless anyone has any objections to extending her mandatory stay here?”
“I’ve already gotten her paperwork ready to take to her primary care physician once she’s discharged, so she can keep up with her medication regimen.” Dr. Regeal confirmed from her seat at the end of Dr. Stephen’s desk.
“What about her therapy?” He then looked toward me.
“I’m going to ask her at her next session with me this afternoon if she wants to continue at my private practice or if she wants me to refer her to another counselor upon her discharge.
” She wouldn’t be getting referred to anyone else; she wouldn’t be getting that option because she didn’t need it.
Other therapists would try to make her suppress her desires—I wanted to see them flourish.
“Excellent, if anything changes and her discharge date needs to be adjusted, please just shoot me an email,” code for he didn’t want the responsibility of being forced into making a timely decision on anything.
For all his flaws, at least he let his staff pretty much run his psychiatric clinic.
He trusted us to handle the hard work for him as long as it didn’t risk his position.
He dismissed us without much to add to Rae’s case.
I could have brought up the mail she received and pushed even further to have everything screened before it made it to her, with her release looming outside myself, her sister, and Caleb, I didn’t trust anyone not to turn it around on her due to her past.
Mental health practices may have made many advancements in the last few decades, but the taboo stereotypes surrounding those who practiced self-mutilation weren’t among the growth the field has seen.
A lot found it hard not to view the individuals with judgment, and it was a subject most counselors were uncomfortable to touch upon in therapy, though we have made leaps and bounds from the times that lobotomies were a popular treatment, our field of study was nowhere near perfect yet.
I made my way down the hallway to my office after declining Jessica’s invitation to join her and Kathrine for a cup of coffee before our appointments started for the day.
My final plans for the night needed to be put in place, and I needed the solace of a quiet morning to make sure I had everything in place.
Once I was securely locked in my private office, I was able to start what some might consider to be a ritual. It wasn’t—my plans could easily adapt if needed. Things were just easier if everything went as planned.
The drugs were easy enough to obtain without a paper trail of where I got them.
Being a therapist to so many addicts came with the advantage of knowing where you could anonymously purchase any illegal substance.
Slipping them into his evening pill cup would be easy enough; it all came down to timing.
The nurses typically left the cart unattended in the hallway for the few seconds it would take to step into a patient's room to deliver their medicine.
All the cups were labeled with the patient's room number. It wouldn’t be a strong enough dose to kill him, just enough to where he would remain silent while I went to work.
A false bottom existed in the top drawer of my locked desk.
The risk of being caught with damning evidence was always present, since all patients and staff were subject to searches on the property if the need to do so ever arose.
I hadn’t had it happen to me yet, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t.
Inside lay a few pills and an ID card of a staff member I had stolen when I first started this goal of mine.
He hadn’t reported it stolen, not wanting to answer the questions that would come along with the assumption when he had to ask for a new one.
Instead—just like I suspected he would—he reported it as damaged and received a new one with the same access.
The clinic had cameras only in public areas, not in the individual halls where patients might discuss private matters with doctors or therapists.
Back doors opened to stairwells that also didn’t have security coverage.
Dr. Stephens was arrogant enough to believe the setup he approved was enough to keep everyone safe.
And it was, at least, keeping the public and staff safe from the patients.
There were flaws in his system, the other way around, for example, Dr Stephens wasn’t aware that not all night shift nurses conducted the regular head counts like they were supposed to.
Brandon was currently located in one of the few behavioral rooms with a manual lock on the outside of his door to protect the other patients from him.
Tonight, Darrell was on duty as the overnight nurse.
Darrell was the perfect one to be on shift when I had to get my little side job accomplished.
Unbeknownst to Dr. Stephens, Darrell had a serious drinking problem and had for a while now.
He kept it hidden from most of his coworkers, I was better at reading people than most of the general population.
People were easy to pick apart when you knew what to look for.
Darrell didn’t even try to really hide his addiction, and if security was better at their job, they would have discovered months ago that he comes in still half intoxicated and ends up passing out at the nurses’ station after lights out.
I didn’t really care why he did it; I never bothered to get to know him on a personal level, not when I was able to use his negligence to my advantage.
Tonight was the perfect setup to rid the world of yet another sicko the justice system couldn’t bother to take care of the right way, and Darrell was going to help me.