Samantha Parker looked at the patients in her group therapy and thought about their backgrounds and family. What would they do if these five people were to suddenly die of unknown causes? She'd killed for money, but now she wanted the thrill that the power of killing gave her. It didn't matter that her hands weren't the ones that actually caused the deaths, what mattered was that she controlled how and when they died.
"Dr. Parker, Carl Sheppard is waiting for you in your office," Katrina Morgan said from the open doorway.
"Tell him I'll be right there," Parker told her and turned to the patients. "You have all done very well today..."
"Does that mean I can go home?" Dugan snapped.
"No, Joseph, you still have a long way to go before I sign your release papers," Parker vowed.
"You let Jacobson go and he was nuttier than a fruitcake..."
"Chris Jacobson is no longer a patient at Shady Acres, but that doesn't mean he was cured," Parker said, anger simmering just below the surface.
"Then why'd ya let him go?"
"I don't need to explain my actions to you, Joseph," the therapist snapped and grabbed the files from the table before leaving the room. She made her way to her office and closed the door as she moved to her desk. "Tell me Styles is taken care of."
"Marcus assured me he's dead and he made it look like a drug deal gone bad," Sheppard told her.
"Good, now maybe things will settle down and we can get on with our lives," Parker said.
"Are we just going to let those bastards get away with fucking up what we had here?"
"I don't think we have a choice in the matter, Carl. If we go after them then it could very well put Shady Acres back under the microscope. I've done some digging into Larabee and the agency he works for. It's owned by a former judge named Orin Travis and has ties with the police department and the government. I couldn't access most of the files, but Larabee is a former member of the Special Forces including the Navy SEALs."
"We should have checked into them more carefully," Sheppard said.
"We did what we could with the information we had. The story they gave was believable and the background checks didn't turn up anything that should have sent off warning signals. They are good at what they do, Carl, and we should be glad Kent seems to have been the focus of their investigation. I just wish I could have had more time with Chris."
"I wish we'd had more time to use the drugs Marcus gave me. It would have been fun watching him take a trip on the wild side," Sheppard told her.
"We did manage to give him a look at his dark side," Parker said with a smile as she leaned back in her chair. "Anyway, the money is ours and I have decided to hand in my resignation as of today."
"You can't just up and leave. That will just cast suspicions on you if they focus on the recent deaths including Kent and Styles," Sheppard told her.
"I know that, Carl, so I have given them a month's notice with the option to stay longer if they need more time to find a replacement."
"What did you give as a reason for your resignation?"
"I want to start my own practice," Parker answered and picked up a pencil. "I have more than enough money to do that, but I believe I'll just travel for several months and maybe settle down in another country until I decide whether I want to return to work. What about you, Carl, what are your plans?"
"I'll keep working until my contract ends next year and then I'll retire to a nice warm climate where there's nothing but fun in the sun," Sheppard answered.
"Sounds like a good plan," Parker told him and realized they'd both made some changes to the plans they had originally spoken of shortly after Kent's death. She reached into her desk and pulled out the bottle of brandy she kept there and poured them both a drink. "To retirement."
"To the people who have lined our pockets," Sheppard said with a grin and clinked glasses before swallowing the fiery liquid. "Well, I have to meet with a new client today so I'll talk to you later, Sam."
"New money, Carl?"
"Of course, but not nearly enough to make us take a chance now that we have what we need and are in the clear," Sheppard answered.
Parker waited for him to leave and reached for the file in her desk. She wanted to make Chris Larabee and Ezra Standish pay for what they cost her, but right now she could not take that chance. Cursing softly she threw it back in the drawer and slammed it shut before taking the papers off her desk and hurrying to meet with the board.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
JD stared at the laptop screen in frustration, but he'd never been a quitter and was not gonna start now. He had all the information from Kent's files, but couldn't help feeling like there was something he was missing. He'd been through the hidden folder, found more than enough information to convict Kent if the man had lived to go to trial, but it all seemed too easy.
From what he'd uncovered so far, Raymond Kent was a genius. The man had falsified so many of his records and made it appear as if the credentials on his walls were hard earned. The hospital he supposedly worked at for more than 12 years had no record of Raymond Kent, at least not as a psychiatrist. What they did have was a record of him as a patient whose mind seemed to work too fast and left him with severe headaches, at least that was how JD interpreted what he'd read.
"JD, why don't you take a break?" Wilmington suggested.
"I'm okay, Buck."
"No, Kid, you're not. You've been at that for three days straight and it's time to give it up and come back at it with fresh eyes. It's late and Nate called to say he wanted to meet us all at the hospital..."
"Are Chris and Ezra all right?" Dunn asked as Vin joined them.
"They're okay, but Chris had...I guess you could call it a flashback, but he thought he was still at Shady Acres and attacked Ezra. Silverman ordered restraints..."
"No fuckin' way!" Tanner snarled.
"Easy, Vin, Josiah talked them out of it, but it means one of us needs to be there in case it happens again," Wilmington observed.
"What did he do?" Dunne asked and closed down the files he'd been working on.
"Chris attacked Ezra...hit him in the chest and called him a bastard. Josiah thinks Chris thought he was still at Shady Acres," the ladies man answered.
"Damn, that could happen again," Tanner said.
"Exactly, so let's close up shop and head over there," the rogue told them and waited until Dunne shut down the laptop and headed for the door.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
Chris knew the smells surrounding him and silently cursed that the pain in his head and the nausea in his gut weren't caused by too much drinking. He heard familiar voices and opened his eyes to find five men standing around his bed, but one man was conspicuously absent.
"Welcome back, Son," Sanchez greeted softly.
"Where's Ezra?" Larabee asked and shot up in the bed as panic swept through him. He closed his eyes as vivid images of his hand clutching something sharp and driving it into a chest...but whose chest?
"Chris, hold on, Pard, you're okay," Wilmington tried.
"God, Buck, I...I killed him!" the blond said as blood covered his hands and a look of surprised horror was quickly replaced by pain in Ezra's eyes.
"No, you didn't, Chris, Ezra's right over there," Tanner said and waited for the injured man to turn his head. "He's just sleeping."
"He's okay?" Larabee whispered.
"He's okay, Chris," Jackson assured the blond.
"I remember..."
"What do you remember, Son?" Sanchez asked.
"I remember being at Shady Acres...remember being so pissed at Ezra that I stabbed him," Larabee said and frowned as several more images flashed through his mind. He felt anger and rage and the need to make someone pay for his loss of control and someone urging him on.
"What else, Chris?" Jackson asked.
"The orderly...Styles...he gave me the scissors. Kept telling me my brother was behind everything and I couldn't think straight. I just felt rage and wanted to wipe the smug look off Ezra's face. God, I could have killed him," Larabee said, his voice edged with pain.
"But you didn't, Chris, although I will need to put in for a new suit in the next expense report," Standish said and turned to look at his roommate.
"If Travis won't pay for it...I will," Larabee told him, guilt evident in his voice as he studied the conman. "Ezra..."
"Don't go there, Chris, someone slipped you some heavy duty drugs and that person is to blame for this," Standish said.
"Didn't I tell you the same thing when we started this case? We all have to learn to live with our decisions and it was mine to take on this case. I nearly killed you, Ezra," Larabee said and again closed his eyes as more images formed and this time he knew what he'd done could not be blamed on drugs. His stomach churned as he opened his eyes and looked at his hands and reached for the basin as bitter tasting bile rose in his throat. He heard Wilmington's worried voice, but saw nothing except his hands striking against Ezra's chest.
"Chris, it's okay," Jackson tried as dry heaves attacked the blond.
"No...God...I wasn't...no drugs...thought...thought it was real," Larabee managed and looked at his hands as if they were covered in blood.
"What was real, Chris?" Sanchez asked.
"I tried to kill Ezra...Jesus...it wasn't drugs making me do it," the blond spat and pulled away from Wilmington's touch.
"It wasn't you, Chris," Tanner said.
"Don't patronize me, Vin...I know exactly what I did and I couldn't stop it!"
"Chris, you are not to blame!" Standish tried. "You were..."
"I was what, Ezra? Having a flashback? Hell, I know that, but it doesn't matter because it could happen again and then what? What if no one's around to stop me?"
"Chris, we've all done things in our lives and you're not the first one to have flashbacks, but as long as we don't let them rule our lives, we can deal with them. We have to or we stop being who we are. This team came together for a reason and we've all learned to lean on each other, so don't try to be strong on your own. Our strength is in our number and the team is only as strong as the man who leads it and by leading he has to trust his gut and lean on us," Sanchez told him.
"Josiah's right, Chris, lean on us and we'll help you through this...we all will," Wilmington vowed as Larabee lay back against the pillows and he covered his eyes with his arm. "Come on, Pard, you know you're not alone in this."
"I know, Buck, but Jesus..."
"Jesus has nothing to do with this, Chris, but I'm betting he'll gladly add his shoulder if you want to lean a little harder," Sanchez offered.
Chris knew the others were right, but guilt gnawed at his gut each time he looked at Ezra Standish. The conman's eyes were locked on his and he saw something in them that spoke of the same emotions he was feeling and Chris knew then that he was not alone. He took a deep breath, looked at each member of his team, and saw none of the blame he expected to see there.
"Gentlemen, I thought hospital policy was two visitors at a time," Simmons said from his vantage point in the open doorway.
"Hell, Doc, ya know we ain't that good at keepin' ta the numbers," Tanner said.
"You bunch aren't good at keepin' to hospital policies at all...the noise level was disturbing the other patients," the gruff physician warned.
"Sorry, Doc, my fault," Larabee said.
"Okay, where the hell are ya hiding the real Chris Larabee!" Simmons said and moved to check Larabee's vitals.
"Hell, Simmons, what did you do stick your hands in the fucking freezer?" Larabee cursed when the man's cold hand touched his arm.
"That I did, Larabee, just for you," Simmons said with a grin as he listened to the blond's heartbeat.
"Sonofabitch...go check on Ezra" the blond ordered.
"Not until my hands warm up...after all Standish has a delicate countenance and we shouldn't exacerbate it..."
"I may not agree with what you said, Dr. Simmons, but I am impressed that you have studied something besides the comic strip in the morning paper," Standish observed.
"I don't have time for the morning comics, Standish, I'm too busy adding new chapters to War and Peace and The Gambler...at least Vin and Buck aren't adding to my grief," Simmons said and grew serious as he looked at the blond. "Chris, your temperature has come down..."
"So you'll sign me out..."
"Not by a long shot, Larabee, and don't you start, Standish!"
"What did I do?"
"You managed to get yourself a roommate named Larabee and I'm not gonna be signing any discharge papers for at least three days," Simmons vowed. "Now, you bunch need to get out of here and let these two get some rest."
"Simmons, why don't you..."
"Better think about what you're gonna say, Larabee, because that three days could be longer," the physician said with a wicked grin.
"Do that and I'll make the nurses life a living hell and make sure they know it's because of you," the blond warned.
"Touche, but do that and remember that proctological exam I told you about...well see that department might just have an opening..no pun intended," Simmons said.
"Always knew you were an ass, Simmons," Wilmington said and heard soft groans from the others.
"Buck's full of crap," Dunne added and smiled in spite of the glares turned in his direction.
"The shit's really flying here today so I'm gonna leave you boys to clean it up," Simmons said. "Larabee, Standish...rest and heal 'cause I need these beds for patients who appreciate my talents?"
"Comedic though they might be," Tanner said and Simmons raised his eyebrows before leaving the room.
"I don't know about Ezra, but I think I'm going to do as Simmons says for a change and get some sleep," Larabee said and yawned tiredly before pressing the button that would deliver the prescribed dose of pain medication before lowering the head of his bed.
"That sound like a plan, Chris," Ezra said and did the same as his roommate.
"Rain's here until midnight," Jackson said and knew the others understood he was volunteering to stay with Larabee and Standish until then. He heard them leave and nodded at Tanner when the Texan said he'd be back at midnight to relieve him.
TBC