Page 21 of Lethal Attraction

It was…

IT WAS FUCKING REAL!

I grab the mirror of my medicine cabinet, almost ripping it from the wall as I swing it open in my direction. My eyes widen until they can’t anymore, and I’m left gawking at the carving of the letters TK over my god-damned heart!

I’m flying through my apartment like a bat out of hell as I throw on my clothes. The whole time, the memories of our night together assault me like a picture-perfect painting of fucked up.

“I…oh, god,” I slap my cheek hard as I stalk through the parking garage to my car. I get behind the wheel, burying my face in my hands. “She broke into my apartment, drugged me, then fucked me! No big deal. I’m fine.” I laugh hysterically, the sound bouncing through the cab as I pull out of my designated spot. “And she carved her initials into my chest. It’s fine, Reed. Everything is normal.”

Fuck if it is, but I don’t have the time to spiral. I need to confront Thalia.

Why?

I don’t know! Maybe to clarify why she did it? All I know is that I make a ten-minute drive in seven minutes, only to slow in front of the hospital when I see a string of police cars out front.

My heart plummets as I pull into the doctor’s designated parking and throw my door open. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The worst scenario filters through my head.

Thalia called the police the moment she made it back to report me. What else could explain the sudden flurry of women and men in blue sweeping into the ER’s entrance?

I’m royally screwed.

As I stumble through the automatic doors, there’s a sweat building on my brow as I try to compile a story. I left the syringe at home, so I have nothing to back up my claims.

“Reed?”

I whip around to Taryn, who’s in the middle of speaking with one of the police officers. He’s tall and flanked by a woman also dressed in the standard blue uniform of the state patrol.

“Dr. Bellamy?” The officer asks.

I swallow, mentally preparing myself for the storm. This is it. My career is over. “Yes?”

“I’m Officer Grant and this is Officer Diaz. We’re here to ask you a few questions about a patient you may have had contact with.” The police officer says as he flips a page in his notepad.

“Um,” I glance at Taryn, who shrugs. “Sure. What’s up?”

“Do you remember Thalia Kingsley?”

Fuck me.

I clear my throat. “Yes, I did surgery to remove a bullet from her shoulder a few days ago.”

The officer nods. “And where would she be located?”

“ICU,” Taryn supplies as her eyes flicker to me in question.

“Can I ask what this is about?” I probe.

The officer closes his notebook. “Well, it looks like your former patient may be connected to the death of a political candidate. Arthur Stout was shot and killed the same night Ms. Kingsley was rushed to the hospital. She fell from the roof of the building, we believe she set up as her hideaway point. We have enough witnesses to issue a warrant for her arrest.”

A startled laugh leaves me, and Taryn shoots me a shut the fuck up look. I quickly mask my snicker with a cough as I shake my head. “This has got to be a misunderstanding. She doesn’t seem like the type to do something like that.”

The officers share a glance before Diaz tilts her head. “And did you know the suspect well?”

I’m incriminating myself.

“No!” I say quickly, holding up my hands. “No, I didn’t know her well. She just seemed…delicate.”