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“That could have been what sparked her to go after the others she feels are responsible for her pain,” said Levi. “She couldn’t kill Giles or Shephard—they’re already dead—so she went after the boys from the dorm.”
“She killed them all, even Dale.” Tanner frowned. “Does that mean they all voted for her at one point or another, including her own brother?”
Knox’s mouth set into a flat line. “I suspect it does.”
“But he was very protective of her,” Levi reminded them.
“He was also a terrified, traumatized child,” said Knox. “He might not have voted for her. She might simply have blamed him because he didn’t make the abuse stop.”
Tanner scrubbed a hand down his face, hating to think what had happened to them all those years ago. Now that Devon was his mate and officially part of his lair, he’d been able to share the recent Ramsbrook business with her. And he’d watched her heart break for those poor kids who’d been abused. She’d also agreed with him that Muriel could be the person picking off those children one by one.
Tanner folded his arms. “Devon thinks it’s possible that the killer may also intend to end their own life after completing their ‘mission.’ They’ll know that the alternative is being tracked and punished by you or the Primes of their other victims.”
Knox gave a slow nod. “It’s certainly possible. The hope is that we locate both her and Foreman before such a thing can occur. I’ll have Larkin use facial recognition software—our system is tapped into most CCTV footage available. I don’t have a recent photo of Foreman, but I have one of Muriel. Surely it won’t be that hard to find her and …”
The Prime’s voice faded into the background as Devon’s mind practically slammed against his, vibrating with anxiety. Tanner, something’s happened.
He rushed out of the office, down the stairs, and into the living area. She was standing in the middle of the room, rubbing at her pale face.
Devon winced when she saw him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted your meeting. Calling out to you was instinct—”
“Fucking good, it should be.” Tanner gripped her forearms. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”
“I just had a call from Jolene. Pamela’s …” Her lower lip trembled, and she bit down hard on it. “Someone poisoned her, Tanner. They tried to kill her. The doctors pumped Pamela’s stomach, and she seems to be stable, but …” She paused, breath hitching. “I have to go see her.”
“I know you do. And I’m coming with you.”
*
The containment ward looked much like any hospital with its plain white walls, fluorescent lighting, and shiny tile flooring. Devon would wager it was more secure than San Quentin State Prison. She and Tanner had had to pause at several doors while someone punched a long-ass code into a security pad, allowing them entrance. It was no easy thing to get in or out of the ward, and security personnel constantly patrolled the long hallways.
In the daytime, patients often walked the hallways. But they were usually secured in their rooms no later than 7pm, so it was almost eerily quiet as she and Tanner made their way to the crisis unit where Jolene was waiting for them.
The astringent scents of bleach and disinfectant filled the air, irritating her feline. It didn’t like the ward; didn’t like being in a place that it knew it would have a hard time escaping if need be. But it never protested to Devon visiting Pamela.
The ward wasn’t exactly a cheery place, but it was the best place for Pamela. Jolene had once given Devon a tour, respecting that she wanted to know her mother was in a safe, clean environment. It was massive. There were counseling rooms, cafeterias, observation rooms, recreational areas, and common rooms. Devon usually spent time with Pamela in the visitation area, but she’d seen her mother’s room once. It was sparse and sad, especially with its fake window.
The ward was clean and well-kept, given the circumstances. There was the occasional dent here and there in the walls or floor, courtesy of the patients who liked to upend furniture, fling their power around, or throw shit. But there was no dirt or mildew or shabby furnishings.
“Devon?”
Hearing Jolene’s voice, Devon turned to see the Prime standing at the nurse’s station looking weary and downright pissed.
“You got here fast,” Jolene added, crossing to her.
“How is Pamela?”
“Stable.” Jolene sighed. “Her heart stopped once, but the doctors were able to get it going again.”
A harsh breath whooshed out of Devon. “Is she in there?” Her gaze flicked to the closed door behind Jolene.
“Yes. She’s sleeping, but you can see her in a moment.”
Flexing her fingers, Devon stepped closer to Jolene. “You have the person who did this to her, right?”
Jolene’s face hardened. “I wish I did. Nobody saw anything, none of the cameras picked up anything suspicious. But one of the nurses who works on the ward left early and is now missing. My guess? She was paid or blackmailed to poison Pamela and she left before anyone could notice that something was wrong. The other staff said she’d been acting strange all day. Said she was edgy and impatient.” Jolene rubbed Devon’s arm. “She’ll be found, sweetheart.”
