Whitlock gets in the sheriff’s face, spittle flying from his mouth. “Is that what you think? You thought I put Seth up to that? That wasn’t me. What reason would I have to destroy the library and terrorize the assistant librarian?”
Assistant librarian. That’s me. So maybe he hasn’t recognized me. But if he has, would he confide in Sheriff Jackson? He could be playing dumb. He could be masking his guilt with animosity. But if he really didn’t…
“If it wasn’t you, then who?” Sheriff Jackson pushes Whitlock back with a light shove.
Dr. Whitlock’s eyes grow cold. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
“You do that. In the meantime, I’ll be figuring out the personnel issue,” Sheriff Jackson replies indignantly. He leaves on that parting shot, hopping into his police vehicle and speeding away.
Not very mindful of a police officer to be speeding through a parking lot, but whatever.
Whitlock watches the sheriff leave and climbs into his own car, a dark sedan, and exits the same way. I follow suit as well, hurrying into my car and locking the doors.
My chest rises and falls dramatically as I pull out my phone and search scopolamine on the internet. The first result tells me that when scopolamine is used in its powdered form, it can be used to brainwash people.
I’m no medical expert, and I know not everything on the internet is factual, but if this is true, it means that Seth didn’t know what he was doing.
A sense of dread fills my chest as I worry that Seth isn’t going to be the only one dosed with scopolamine.
Information gathering has been slow-moving, and I can’t let Dr. Whitlock continuetreatingpatients.
But now I know that Sheriff Jackson and Dr. Whitlock are in on something together. Something that requires people to work for them. Maybe the pills or something else?
That may be the in I need—the key to the downfall of Dr. Whitlock.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
RAVEN
Ugh. All I want is to fall flat on my face into my bed and never get up. My shift at The Wandering Raven was long.
Pulling into my driveway, it takes every last bit of my energy not to fall asleep in my car. Maybe I should have let Knox and Griffin give me a ride rather than insisting I’m Miss Independent and don’t need a man to drive me everywhere. I’m paying for that stubbornness now.
The only thing that gets me to move is the fact that my bed is way more comfortable than the driver’s seat. So in all my zombie glory, I get out of my car and trudge up the sidewalk.
A shadow moves in my peripheral vision, and I turn my head to see what it is. Across the street in the empty lot is a dark figure blending in with the trees. My back tenses as my stomach twists. Squinting, I try to get a better view, but the person runs away.
As fast as possible, I unlock the bolted door and rush inside, locking the door behind me. Resting my back against the wood, I breathe deeply to slow my racing heartbeat.
Glancing around, I find Lucy passed out on my couch, snuggled under a thick blanket. The only light on down here is the lamp on the side table, casting the living room in a dim glow.
Kat was right. Lucy is a godsend, and she’s a very hard worker. She’s a senior in high school and was more than happy to take on this babysitting job. She has only one more class to complete, which means she’s on track to graduate early. She’s slept here a few times but normally leaves when I get home.
“Lucy, I’m back.” I tap her shoulder to wake her up, but she doesn’t move. “Lucy? Are you okay?” She doesn’t even blink.
I place two of my fingers on the side of her neck, checking for a pulse. When I find it, I rest the back of my hand on her forehead, and I check her temperature, which feels normal. The shadows on Lucy’s face shift back and forth in time with her breathing.
Peeling back the blanket, I check for anything that looks amiss. In the rustling, something drops to the floor. I let go of the blanket and squat down, looking for the fallen object. Under the coffee table, I find an empty syringe.
My hand trembles as I reach for it. Every muscle in my body goes numb, and my stomach sinks as I pick it up and find the plunger pushed all the way into the barrel, leaving no trace of what was in here behind.
I scramble to check Lucy’s arms, looking for track marks, but find none. I didn’t think she’d have them, but you never know.
Above my head, a rhythmic creak echoes through the ceiling. A cold sweat coats my skin, and my pulse skyrockets.
Creeeak. Creeeak.
Automatically, I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Griffin and Knox, then dial 911.
