Chapter 59
FIFTY-NINE
Blakely
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” Dr. Mann said. He shut the thick wood door behind him and gave me a tight smile. “Megan wasn’t feeling well, so I sent her home.”
“Just the two of us then,” I muttered, giving him my own tight smile. I’d taken my usual seat on the couch, closest to the door and furthest from the window that was positioned behind his mahogany desk. The blinds were partially closed, still allowing some of the sunset light in and casting shadows along the top of the desk and across the rest of the couch.
Dr. Mann sat down in his leather chair across from me. He crossed one ankle over a knee and folded his hands in his lap.
“How have you been, Blakely?”
I sighed. “Honestly, I’m tired.”
He shifted in his seat, brown eyes assessing. “Tell me more about that. Tired is an interesting word to choose.”
“We found a woman tied up in the back of Devon’s car,” I said matter-of-factly. He didn’t react, so I went on. “She looked exactly like me, down to the shape of her nose and the color of her eyes. And in all the ways we were different, he’d changed them. He dyed her hair and drew on my tattoos with a black marker.”
Dr. Mann nodded. “I’m sure that wasn’t easy for you.”
“No, it wasn’t. But I also don’t think it had the desired effect either.” I set the pillow aside and crossed my legs, leaning back into the couch.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s always the ‘why’ that’s bothered me,” I began. “Why is he?—”
“Yes, we discussed this before, that you may never know the ‘why,’ as you call it. And that your mental energy is better spent elsewhere.”
I inhaled a shaky breath. “Time in that basement worked differently,” I said, staring at a photo behind Dr. Mann’s head as I did. “With the windows blacked out, there wasn’t a way to gauge if it was day or night. But I think it was about a week in, I started to wonder why. Why keep me there? I know now that Valerie was already dead. He must have had some other motivation. Hell, when I finally got out, so many people asked me if he’d ever touched me. But he didn’t. Maybe that would have made more sense.”
“Blakely—”
I shook my head and swallowed thickly. “He fed me just enough to keep me alive—those fucking peanut butter sandwiches—and gave me just enough water that my lips still split with thirst, but I wasn’t going to die from dehydration.”
My heart pounded in my chest, and I glanced at the clock on the wall. We were seven minutes into the session.
“He kept me chained to the floor, often naked, the brick wall behind me my only comfort. At least he turned on the dingy light at the bottom of the stairs every once in a while, so I could see the abysmal condition my body was in. The cuts around my ankle that scarred over so brutally, I have to wear these anklets to cover them up.” I motioned to the jewelry and was reminded of Devon’s lips brushing against the healed skin. Like he would kiss away the hurt if he could.
“I saw the dirt caked under my nails and clinging to every inch of my body. But it wasn’t until after that I saw the scars on my back, running up and down my spine, where you could see the bones. The tattoo covers most of them now, but that brick really did a number on me.”
“Blakely, we’ve discussed this. Reliving it again, it’s?—”
I laughed, but the sound was choked and maybe a little manic. “We’ve discussed it, but we haven’t really discussed it.”
Dr. Mann straightened in his seat and braced his elbows on his knees. “What more is there to talk about?”
“Isn’t this my therapy session? Am I not allowed to discuss what I want to?”
Dr. Mann stared at me for another moment and then tossed his hands to the side, gesturing for me to continue. “By all means…” He sat back as I scooted forward to the edge of the couch.
“Thank you.”
“So, you want to know why.” Not a question, a statement.
I nodded slowly and looked directly at him. “Yes, so why don’t you tell me?”
“Blakely—”
“Tell me why you did it, Dr. Mann.”
Time stopped as we stared at one another. His brown eyes were unblinking, but I hardened myself and willed not to let any glimmer of emotion cross my face.
As I expected, Jeffrey eventually scoffed. He looked away and shook his head before returning his gaze to mine. “Are you really trying to accuse me of kidnapping you?”
“Not trying,” I clarified with a smile. “I’m just doing it.”
“Blakely, I thought we were making progress, and now, this? Months of work down the drain. What do you expect me to say?”
“The truth would be preferable.” It was funny how the quiet rage running through my veins made me so calm even in the face of true evil.
I enjoyed watching him struggle for an answer. This man, who’d been one step ahead of me for years, was finally scrambling. And I relished every fucking second.
We were locked in a battle of wills. Neither of us intent on dropping the other’s stare. But I wouldn’t be the first to break. I’d waited two long years for this moment, and I wasn’t going to go down without one hell of a fight.
Several seconds passed, and neither of us blinked. On the surface, his stare appeared unwavering, but then he licked his lips and sat back in his seat. The smile that spread across his face was slow and calculated.
“I underestimated you, Blakely Warrier-West.”
“That was only the first in a long line of mistakes, Jeffrey.”
He dropped his head back and laughed toward the ceiling, like what I’d said was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “I’ve been asking you for months to call me by my first name, and suddenly, now , you decide to do it.”
I shrugged. “It was a respect thing before, so I guess you could say that’s gone now.”
“You don’t respect me anymore?” he asked, his tone mocking and unsurprised.
“Nope.” My tone was just as casual and unserious.
“So, tell me,” he began. “How did you figure it out? You were clueless for years, so consider me a little shocked that you walk in today guns-a-blazing, set on what, revenge?”
Needing to expend the energy welling up inside me, I stood and rounded the couch. “A photograph,” I explained. “I found it in some of Shelly’s old stuff, and you happened to be in the background. There wasn’t another plausible explanation for why you’d be at the treatment center. It would’ve been too much of a coincidence.”
He sighed and shook his head, running his palm over his mouth like it was only a minor inconvenience that I’d figured it out. “Damn, I knew it was too risky to go down there. I only went a few times, when Nick Hammond was indisposed. I’m not surprised a photo got me—they really liked their photo ops there.”
“You were so careful,” I said. “That’s kind of messy, Jeffrey.”
“Well, it still took you this long to find the one photo?—”
“Enough,” I said. I braced my hands on the back of the couch and leveled him with an unwavering stare. “I don’t want to talk about how you fucked up or how I figured it out. I want to know why you did it. I feel like it’s a simple question, Jeff, and you’re a smart guy. So, tell me. Now .”
“It’s a pretty long story, Blakely.”
“I have time, but you can spare me the psychotic details. The basics will suffice.”
He snickered, and it took everything in me not to begin pacing. As the seconds ticked by and he didn’t answer, I struggled to keep my composure.
“Blakely, Blakely, Blakely, you are just so?—”
“Now!” I shouted. That rage I was letting fuel me bubbled to the surface in one massive, unhindered wave.
His jaw clenched, and I could see a vein in his temple begin to pulse. It was a peek beneath the unrattled exterior he was portraying. Being confronted by your victim was bound to shake a person.
“You’re not going to be as satisfied with the answer as you think, Blakely.” He spit my name like it hurt to say it. When I didn’t respond, he narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth. “I met Valerie and was instantly fascinated with her. The amount of ownership she felt over your friend, Luke, was, well, intriguing.”
“You just met her?”
“Well, she was a patient-turned-friend. It went against all the rules to befriend a patient, but you knew Valerie, she was hard to resist,” he said. “Actually, you knew that very well, because for a long time, she was your only friend. Which is probably why you went along with everything for so long. Why you couldn’t think clearly when she threatened you to help her with Luke. Your childhood was so lonely, a friend was all you’d ever wanted. And she was?—”
“Enough,” I seethed. “We both know all of this. Now, tell me something I don’t fucking know.” I shifted on my feet and crossed my arms over my chest. He clocked the movement and my growing frustration.
“You want the short and sweet version?” He removed his black-rimmed glasses and examined the lenses. Opening the drawer next to him with an easy nonchalance, he pulled out a microfiber cloth and cleaned them. “Valerie wanted to use you to help get to Luke. Her tactics were a little unconventional and slightly ridiculous, but I wasn’t going to argue with her. If I had cared more, maybe I would have warned her she was going to get herself killed, but I didn’t. All I wanted was…you,” he said with an icy, uncaring glance.
“You wanted me?” There was no hiding the surprise in my voice.
He returned his little cloth to the drawer and replaced his glasses on his nose. “Yes, from the first time we met.”
“You mean when you attacked me from behind, drugged me and drove me across state?”
“No,” he said with a condescending laugh. “That Halloween party at Murphy’s. Your friend, Josh, I think it was, kicked Valerie out, but I stayed behind. That was when Valerie knew there was more going on between Hazel and Luke. But that’s beside the point. We met that night, although it’s clear now you don’t remember.”
My memories from that night were foggy at best. It was more than two years ago, and the bar was exceptionally crowded. I tried to remember any faces I’d seen. I had been bartending with Josh during one of the craziest shifts of the year.
I met and served a lot of people that night, and I don’t remember a single one of them.
“We had a short conversation with the usual pleasantries—‘ how’s your night going?,’ ‘what are you drinking?’— that kind of thing. And the conversation may not have stuck with you, but it sure as hell stuck with me. And.” He paused, leaning forward. “Listen closely because here is the lovely ‘ why’ you’ve been waiting for.”
I stayed still and silent as he drew out the moment for as long as he could. His finger tapped against the leather with every passing second before he finally gave up and sighed.
“It was in your eyes, Blakely. Something I hadn’t seen before that was too exciting not to pursue. You were already broken, I wanted to know if I could break you more. So, when I realized Valerie knew you, we made a deal: she was dead set that you were going to help her with her little Hazel problem, and honestly, it helped my bottom line, too.”
He stood then, and I struggled not to retreat. I wrapped my shaking arms tighter around me but stood my ground. Luckily, he didn’t try to get any closer. Instead, he stepped around his chair and surveyed the contents of the shelves on the far wall.
“The things she had you do while holding the well-being of your friends over your head? It was beautiful to watch, and I got a front-row seat. Then she took Hazel, and I finally got you.”
My heart was in my throat, and the sinking feeling in my gut was nothing new.
“Your parents, your childhood, your friendship with Valerie—it all did a number on you, Blakely. And I wanted a turn at really breaking you. More than you already were.”
“So, you wanted to, that’s why. And because you’re just fucking psychotic.”
He turned on me then. He whipped around so fast I barely noted the movement before he was staring soulless daggers at me. “That is lazy reasoning, Blakely. And I don’t appreciate being called crazy. I did what I did because you were a firsthand test case, and there’s nothing better for research than that.”
His raised voice didn’t affect me. “You were right—that was not the answer I was expecting. ”
He shook his head and let loose a sardonic chuckle. “So, are we done here? Because as much as I’m loving watching you go through every type of emotion and try to keep yourself together, I’m a little bored.”
“No, we’re not done. Where did Nick Hammond come in?”
Jeffrey shrugged and sighed. “He was convenient. I promised him money, and he was impressionable enough to go along with it. He kept an eye on Shelly and then quietly left me alone when we went to Colorado. And he played his part perfectly when the cops came knocking. He took the fall so I could keep watching you.”
“He’s dead because of you,” I seethed. “And Jade is traumatized.”
He huffed out a long breath and turned back toward the shelves. “It happens,” he said. “And Jade shouldn’t be too upset—I could have done much worse.” Completely unbothered by the blood on his hands, he reached for the lid of a small wooden box.
“You’re right, Valerie did do a number on me,” I said plainly, knowing exactly what was about to happen next. “But she taught me one useful thing. Always have a backup plan.”
Right on cue, the back door to his office clicked open, and Devon stepped inside. His eyes immediately found mine, but they were hard and steadfast on our plan.
The one person I could count on no matter what.
He faced Jeffrey, whose shocked face was priceless, especially when Devon flashed the gun that I knew was positioned in his waistband. Since I’d put it there earlier that day.
Jeffrey scoffed and glanced between me and Devon. “Interesting turn of events. Big, quiet, surly Devon Graham walking in here with a gun on his hip was not on my bingo card this year.”