Page 31 of Magnetic Temptations

“Mane. Mason, y’all are with the Kings,” Hydro informs us. “The rest of us are going to split up and take the facilities your group didn’t have the chance to investigate.”

Maverick is sticking to the house so he can be there for Cotton in case he should have a breakdown. Master is going to spend the time we’re away interrogating Laura, who’s now strung to a tree in the field where the cattle roam. The MC thought being in the same field as the longhorns and bulls would be a good ‘scare tactic’ since cattle freaks her out. Because they don’t have their usual equipment, they’re having to adjust their torture techniques. Personally, I’m enjoying her screams of terror every time one comes close to her and moos.

“This bitch is as dumb as a box of rocks,” Ella utters as she goes through Laura’s dresser. She pulls out a journal and begins reading the entries. “This is her to-do list starting back to three years ago. Listen to this bullshit. Step one, follow Cotton and learn his likes and dislikes. Step two, strike up a conversation after church, be subtle but flirt so he knows I’m interested. Step three, bring him dinner and watch television with him. Help him relax after a long day out in the fields. It goes on and on with check off things like these.”

I snort before asking, “So she has to remind herself to be subtle in her flirting? She makes a mockery out of being a woman. Who the hell feels the need to make cheat sheets on how to get a man to notice them?”

“Apparently, Laura,” Ella snickers. “It’s almost as if she has to remind herself how to act and behave.”

“She doesn’t feel emotions so she’s having to check herself,” I mutter, my brain going through all the reasons this could occur. Taking the journal from Ella, I continue going through the entries, and with each thing I read, I feel positive about why Laura acts and does the sporadic and erratic things she does. “She’s schizophrenic.”

I mean, without the official tests it’s an educated guess, of course, but it’s a good one just based on her insane ramblings in her journal entries. Poor Cotton—he never had a chance against her at all. She’s masterminded this whole thing and if we hadn’t come along, his end game would’ve been feeding the dirt.

“So she, and Benji boy, are feeding emotions off of each other. Each having to remind themselves how to be human,” Ella concludes. “Benji obviously has a few screws loose as well. I know I don’t have the degree, but that makes him either a sociopath or a psychopath. The big question is, how did he manage to fool the tests he had to take to get into the police academy? They still do psych evals and shit, don’t they?”

“I’d presume so,” I surmise. “I believe for Benji, he and Julia had that relationship, which is why their bond was as strong as it was. They kept each other in line. And as far as the department's psych evals go, if he’s learned how to play a role and has adopted a caring persona, he could fool anyone.”

“And now the protégé has become the master,” Ella muses. “That’s so fucked up.”

“They need to be medicated and monitored,” I bemoan, perturbed by the lack of school intervention when they could’ve been helped. I think the true irony is that Cotton and his lack of mental prowess is belittled, yet Benji, Laura, and Julia are the real threats. Well, Julia’s not any longer, of course. But she was with my man, who had to leave his old life behind and go into hiding. I suspect her actions will probably cause him problems at some point and make a mental note to keep my finger on his pulse since I know what to look for now.

Adult brains are harder to penetrate than youth ones are. They basically have to learn how to rewire their brains and take daily doses of medication to help the process along.

“Possibly hospitalized in a long-term psychiatric facility. How did the school system miss their lack of empathy and understanding of basic human concepts?” I continue with my rant as I flip the pages.

“What the fuck is this?” Ella asks, lifting up a vial and syringe.

“What does the label say?” I ask, steadily reading Laura’s entries.

“Propofol.” My head snaps upward as I reach up and grab it from her hands.

“Holy shit!” I exclaim. “How the hell did she get her hands on this?”

“Hey, isn’t that the shit they use at the hospitals to put somebody to sleep?” Ella asks.

“Yes, only it can be deadly if misused,” I answer. “Several big name artists have lost their lives due to being overdosed. It’s a non-barbiturate sedative used in hospital settings, so that means someone else out there is in their pocket. I wonder if they used this to get to Myles?”

“It’d make sense as to why there were no outward signs of a struggle,” she speculates. “If Myles is anything like his brothers, he wouldn’t have been taken without a fight.”

“True,” I agree. “I don’t think anyone of sound mind would though.”

We keep looking through Laura’s things and find a treasure trove full of items that may help us when it comes to Benji.

It took us six long, laborious hours to get Cotton’s house back into order. We weren’t sure where everything belonged, but we took a guess, and at the very least, it doesn’t look like a hurricane struck the inside of his house. By the time we make it back to the Triple M Ranch, I’m utterly exhausted.

“Where’s Laura?” I ask Mason as he hands me my dinner. I mean, the last thing I knew, she was in the field with the livestock, but for all I know, she could be buried out in the back forty by now since I’ve been gone the majority of the day.

“Feel free to get something different,” Mason says, pointing to the counters. The guys put in a catering order through the local diner and there’s a variety of southern cooking in warmer pans.

“She’s a little tied up at the moment,” Master answers, leaving it vague to interpretation.

“Alright,” I say in response because nothing else comes to mind. “What’s our next step since Myles is still missing and we’ve run out of places to search?”

“I think it’s time for our Deputy to take a nap,” Hydro suggests, pulling out the drugs we brought with us from Cotton’s.

“Sounds like a fantastic idea to me,” Gunner says with approval dancing in his eyes. “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”

“How much should we give him, Mane?” Hydro asks me. I sigh at the misconception, I’m a doctor, yes, but I’m not that type of doctor. I can prescribe psych meds but I’ve never conducted surgery, and never will, so I’m not sure about dosage when it comes to those pharmaceuticals.

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