Undercover Elite (Undercover Elite Book 2) (21 page)

Dr. Brinkley

“How did you do it, Georgia? How did you get that man to kill himself?” The previous night’s video feeds had been an unprecedented sensory experience for me. After I’d enjoyed, quite thoroughly, the unexpected show put on by my assistant and her beau via her laptop spyware, I had watched a patient kill himself on my computer. Now, Miss Fairchild’s nocturnal activities -- I had joined in on those from the privacy of my home office; the dead patient, I hadn’t been able to do a damn thing about that. The hospital has no idea I have the security feed patched through to my home computer, but I’m beginning to wonder if Georgia does. It would be just like her to do this, knowing I would see it.

“You give me too much credit, love. You assume I’m powerful enough to convince a man to hang himself.” She leans in, smirking, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you might have some surveillance going on in that multi-million dollar home of yours.”

“Is that why you did it? You knew I’d see it and be helpless to do anything about it?” I’d used the guise of saying I’d come in to do some work and found him. To outsiders it was the perfect explanation, but somehow she knows the truth. I don’t know how she does it but she always knows.

I ignore her act of deflecting; answering my question with a question to try and throw me off. “I just can’t figure out how you managed to talk a man – especially one so close to being released -- into taking his own life.”

“I’m not the villain here, you are, dear. To think you’d release a man guilty of trying to kill his twins,” she continues, as if convincing herself she isn’t guilty of his murder. I have no proof but we both know what she’s done. It’s in her DNA, death, vengeance, the need to make others suffer.

I look at her, caught up in her beautiful chaos. She has the DNA of a killer; a beautiful, fucking Femme Fatale. She is the definition of the word. Even locked away from society, she still has the ability to coerce the male species into doing her dirty work. She even has the ability to ensnare a professional – me -- who knows better than to be caught up in her mental mayhem.

I think back, trying to pinpoint the moment I became caught up in her web. I can’t place a specific moment that it happened. Maybe that’s part of her allure; you’re her captive and you don’t even know it. It’s too late when you try to break free and in that moment realize she has worked her voodoo on you.

She and I both know I’ll never allow her to be transferred to another facility. If keeping her captive is the only way to keep her, then so be it; she is my captive. I’m the man who makes her recommendations, signs her psychiatric evaluations. So in the end…I guess I do hold the power. Oh, yes, I feel much better about things now.

Windy

I’m up early doing research on Georgia Clark. I can’t help it; I have to know more about this woman who seems to hold some ritualistic spell over all those with whom she comes into contact. It’s as if she sets out to pull them into her deception, only to move on to the next unsuspecting victim—unless it’s someone she truly has an interest in…like my boss.

My fingers move quickly over the keys, looking for some sort of resolution to my curiosity about this deranged woman. Others may view her as a Femme Fatale but I see her as what she is: a cutthroat, ruthless bitch who enjoys the suffering of others.

I pick up my ringing cell phone and I’m surprised to see it’s Dr. Brinkley. He doesn’t give me time to speak, just goes straight into what he wants to tell me.

“You need to get to the office; she killed a man last night. Well, more like facilitated his suicide, but in my opinion it’s still murder. How can someone have that kind of influence on people?” His voice sounds like he’s tired, exasperated with trying to figure out a woman who’s too much of an enigma to be dissected and probed by doctors such as himself.

“How did she do it?”

“Talked the poor guy into hanging himself. It’s got her name all over it. I noticed she’s been spending time with him in the lockdown common room and thought nothing of it. She must have been working on him all along, the way other patients might take up a hobby to pass the time. I guess it was some sick form of playing beat the clock before he got released. Poor guy was just one week shy of being cut loose. We’d regulated his meds and his rage was under control.”

“That’s the guy who tried to kill his kids, right?”

“Yeah, and I guess she decided to be judge and jury.”

“And executioner, too. I know I don’t need to tell you this isn’t your fault. It’s just another way for her to pull you in, by making you feel guilty that you didn’t see what she was doing. There’s no way you could have known.”

“My only question is…how the hell did she get the belt he used to hang himself?” The guy used a belt. My Georgia has a sick sense of humor.

Dr. Brinkley

I push away the guilt I’m feeling about not seeing it coming. Georgia’s always up to no good. It’s as if her form of entertainment is fucking people’s lives up. Like other people watch a television program or read a book for entertainment, my patient indulges in mind fucks. I think the day couldn’t possibly get worse, until my phone rings.

As I listen to the frantic update from my security director, my stomach clenches and I struggle to breathe normally. “You’ve got to be kidding me. How long ago? Who helped her, do we know? Shit, put the place on lockdown now.”

“What’s going on?”

I look up to see Windy in the doorway where she’s entered unnoticed. I rub my hands over my eyes that feel scratchy and dry from lack of sleep. I’m glad my assistant is here, I can use the moral support and the help trying to track down my patient’s last movements.

“Georgia’s escaped.”

She sinks down into her office chair with a look of disbelief on her face.

In a matter of moments this place will be flooded with police and S.W.A.T. teams. It won’t be long before the reporters are here. This is news because the
Femoral Fatale
killings terrorized the country only five years ago. The memory is still fresh enough to strike fear in the hearts of people. No doubt by tonight people will be double-checking locks on windows and doors to ensure they don’t cross paths with the lunatic who enjoys bathing in her victims’ blood.

“Follow me,” I say curtly as I get up from my desk. “We’re going to have to work quickly if we want to get to her personal belongings before this place is locked down by the police. It’s our only chance to find any clues about what she has planned.”

Miss Fairchild has to run to keep up with me as we make our way through the maze of hallways leading to Georgia’s room. Many people imagine that these criminals are kept in a cell of sorts but that isn’t the case. I look around the room we’ve entered and it looks more like something out of a magazine rather than the room of a killer. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen it but I’m always amazed with how she maintains her surroundings as if she lives in a penthouse rather than a hospital for the criminally insane.

The full-size bed is one that is more like a fashionable hospital bed, complete with the ability to adjust. I guess her purpose for that is so she is able to write. Her journals will provide me with all I need. Georgia opens up to her journals in a way she doesn’t with any living being, even me.

“Grab anything that enables her to journal her thoughts.”

“So you’ve done this before.”

“People reveal on paper what they aren’t willing to say out loud.”

“So you’re saying she’s complex by nature?”

I turn sharply, eyeing my assistant and meeting her gaze, unable to stop myself from remembering details of the voluptuous body she hides beneath her conservative suits, and how very completely and eagerly she participated in last night’s …activities. I allow myself only a moment’s reverie before returning my attention to the urgent matter facing us. “This woman is multi-faceted. She’s like a diamond; the lighting brings out the darkness that inhabits her being. She has a purpose for everything she does and right now she’s reveling in the fact that we’re trying to figure her out.”

“Are you in danger?”

“Yes. That isn’t what I fear, though. She won’t hurt me. She’ll toy with me by going after anyone she perceives as a threat. It isn’t me I’m concerned about…it’s you, my dear.”