Chapter 8
CHAPTER
EIGHT
It had been nearly twenty-four hours since Delilah had made clear exactly what she intended to get from Rowan.
The incident had replayed in Rowan’s thoughts on repeat almost nonstop, especially when she got home for the day and the sunlight dimmed into night.
She didn’t even question why Delilah targeted her.
When Adele asked her to meet before beginning the work shift, it was the furthest thing from Rowan’s mind.
It came rearing back when Rowan arrived at Adele’s office and the door was closed and the sharp notes of Bronwin’s voice filtered through. This was not going to be a good meeting. Delilah hadn’t told anyone, right? She’d implied, sure, but if she’d said anything, would anyone even believe her?
They could check the cameras and see that Delilah was telling the truth on her end, but there weren’t cameras watching the security room.
No one would be able to verify Rowan’s side of things.
She could easily lie. They’d definitely trust her over Delilah.
But no, Delilah wouldn’t snitch. She wanted Rowan tormented, bent to her will, broken. She didn’t want Rowan gone.
Rowan jumped at the creak of the old wooden door flying open and looked up to catch Bronwin’s tight lipped face. “Come in,” she said, motioning for Rowan to finally join their discussion.
“Rowan,” Adele greeted with a nod, not bothering to move out from behind her desk. She wore a stern expression on her typically soft face. Papers were strewn on the surface in front of her—though, this was nothing new and could be entirely unrelated. “Eliza has updated me on the Delilah situation.”
Ice shot down Rowan’s spine. She slowly nodded, keeping her expression neutral even as her gaze darted to Bronwin. There was no way they knew about the camera show. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
Bronwin cleared her throat and shuffled forward, her short heels clicking on the tile floor once.
She stopped moving and folded her hands in front of her.
“I’m afraid I might have been wrong,” she said through barely concealed frustration, which earned a glare from Adele.
“I must apologize for the situation I put you in yesterday. Encouraging Delilah’s attention on you instead of diverting it was… not the right call.”
Rowan stared at her—at both of them—speechless.
Bronwin continued after a very deep inhale.
“Ms. Watson is showing the beginning signs of an obsession with you. Even though it’s only been a few days, her desire to learn your routine, to get into your head…
I don’t think it will stop there. I’ve made attempts to steer her away but it clearly hasn’t been working. ”
Sure. “Attempts.”
“What we’re trying to say,” Adele interjected with a pointed glance at Bronwin, “is that we think it’s best to give her some time away from you. For your own safety, of course. But, since we don’t know how she’ll react, we wanted to start small. Today.”
“Okay,” Rowan said slowly, wondering what the hell they meant.
Adele nodded. “Right. So today you will not be escorting her to her appointment. We’ll have Brinks do it. He’s already trained up on protocols as your emergency back up anyway. Then we’ll play it by ear for tomorrow.”
“And what if she reacts poorly?” Rowan asked, hating the idea already.
Adele and Bronwin exchanged a hesitant glance.
“Well,” Adele started. “You’ll be close by.
On call, so to speak. There’s an event in the third floor common room that Jax is putting together for some of the lower-risk patients.
There’s already another officer set up there, so, if need be, you’ll be available to step away.
Let’s just hope it’s not needed.” Adele smiled, even though it looked more like a grimace, and looked between Rowan and Bronwin.
“How are you feeling about all of this, Rowan?” Bronwin asked gently, switching from the terse, argumentative tone she’d taken earlier to her softer and more understanding “therapist” voice. It shouldn’t have irritated Rowan as much as it did.
“I’m fine,” Rowan shrugged.
“It’s okay if you need to talk to me about anything, you know? This can be quite a lot to handle for anyone.”
“Yeah, I know,” Rowan answered, keeping her tone void of any emotion while her thoughts turned smug. She was handling it all right. “We’ll do whatever you deem most appropriate. She’s not bothering me.”
“Great!” Adele clapped, straightening up behind her desk and checking her gold-banded watch, her bracelets clinking with the jerky movement. “Go ahead to floor three then. The event starts in half an hour.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Rowan rolled out her shoulders, cracking her neck and silently scanning the room.
She usually enjoyed kicking around for these meetings as this room was one of the very few rooms in the entire building that had large, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the manicured courtyard and taking up almost two entire walls.
Of the other two walls, one consisted of windows looking out into the currently desolate hallway.
The other was plastered with patients’ drawings from art therapy classes.
It was, in Rowan’s opinion, the happiest room in the facility.
The only one that didn’t scream “sterile hospital basement.”
Tables were set out to break up the open space and provide patients with the biggest incentive of coming to this little event in the first place: food.
Better quality than they usually got, too, because the new therapist, Jax, had felt the desire to cater in today from a local bakery.
The circle of chairs in the center of the room for everyone to sit and hold their discussion was currently abandoned as the break settled in and everyone scampered for the scones and muffins that had been sweetening the air for the last hour.
Rowan glanced down at her watch, wondering how Brinks was handling Delilah. In theory, if he was on time, he’d be cuffing her and bringing her out to see Bronwin about now. She made a mental note to review footage after this to see how Delilah reacted.
Someone cleared their throat behind Rowan and she turned to see a wide-eyed woman who stood a full head shorter than her. Mariana’s jet black hair was laid straight across her shoulders, and her amber skin held a flush that wasn’t there the last time Rowan saw her.
“Mariana,” Rowan greeted, a small but genuine smile playing at her lips. “Can I help you with something?”
She hadn’t seen the woman since her last suicide attempt a couple weeks ago. It was good to see her looking so much livelier. Mariana was—secretly—one of her favorite long-term patients. Rowan had always thought the poor woman was a victim of circumstance more than anything.
With unmedicated and undiagnosed bipolar disorder for most of her life, she hadn’t known or been able to cope with the euphoric highs of her manic episodes or the dreadful lows when she came back down.
It was hard enough to handle that even when you knew what was going on.
But she’d spent most of her life in the dark, unable to identify the cause of her vicious and sometimes violent mood swings, or the cravings for dangerous behavior because her brain told her she was untouchable.
After a string of poor decisions while manic, and two incomplete suicide attempts, Mariana found herself in front of a judge who gave her little choice: get help or spend ten years in prison.
And aside from a few weeks ago, Rowan thought she’d been making fantastic progress.
Dr. Bronwin had been working with her once a month while Jax took over her more frequent therapeutic needs.
They found a medication that didn’t feel wrong or send her into a spiral.
It helped her to understand her brain a bit better.
Mariana’s voice drew Rowan’s attention back to the present, her hands clasped in front of her as she shyly admitted, “You haven’t been around on your usual schedule. Some of us were wonderin’ if something was going on.”
“Your concern is very sweet, Mariana. Everything is fine. I’ve just got something more pressing that I’ve been focusing on. I am sorry I haven’t checked in. You’re looking well, though.”
Mariana looked up at Rowan, smiling with a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Dr. Bronwin thinks I might be able to leave soon, in a couple months. We think the meds are working and I feel… good. Really good. Not, like, manic or anything, but like myself.”
“That’s great!” Rowan’s own smile matched Mariana’s. “I’m happy for you.”
Movement flashed in her periphery and a creeping sensation of being watched tickled the back of her neck. Her attention snapped to the glass wall separating the meeting room from the hallway at the same time Mariana gasped.
“Is that…” Her voice trailed off but Rowan didn’t need her to finish. She knew there were rumors about Delilah among the patients. She didn’t answer, her jaw clenched as she looked at a furious Delilah Watson.
They didn’t lock eyes because Delilah wasn’t looking at Rowan. She was glaring murderously at the small, innocent woman next to her instead. Rowan slowly brought the radio to her mouth.
“You’re on the wrong floor, Brinks,” she said, her voice cold, a warning that should convey the amount of shit he’d just found himself in. Adele had personally seen to briefing him. There was absolutely no need for him to bring Delilah here.
Rowan didn’t even spare Mariana another glance before she shoved her way through the crowd forming to gawk at the infamous serial killer.
The surrounding muttering grew louder by the second, and a tall, built man stepped in front of Rowan, cutting off her line of sight as she pushed past him as well.
When she finally yanked open the double doors of the room, ignoring the other guard shouting for calm behind her, Delilah was gone.
“Guards on every exit,” Rowan ordered into her radio, already starting down the hallway. “Find Delilah Watson and the officers escorting her, now.”