Page 2 of Depraved Truths

For the last forty-five minutes, we’ve been trying to resuscitate the driver responsible for the accident, but to no avail. An autopsy will be performed, but it seems probable that the elderly man suffered a massive cardiac arrest and ran a red light, resulting in a head-on collision with the other vehicle.

The man had no pulse on arrival, and despite chest compressions, respirations, and multiple rounds of epinephrine, we were unable to sustain a cardiac rhythm. The occupants of the other vehicle walked away with minimal injuries.

“We need to move the family into the quiet room. Please notify the on-call social worker to meet us so we can deliver the news,” I instruct Lucy. I glance around at my colleagues, noting their responses. Losing a patient is never easy, and there are times when the staff needs counseling too.

I silently hope that Allie is scheduled to work today. She’s one of four social workers at the hospital and one of my closest friends. She’s someone I can always count on, no matter what, and we’vebeen friends since we met at summer camp when we were thirteen. My parents sent me there after the incident, and it was the best decision they ever made—because otherwise I might never have met Allie.

We were roommates, and we instantly bonded. Allie is the extrovert to my introvert. Where I’m serious and quiet, she’s outgoing and radiates energy, effortlessly striking up conversations with anyone. I had no choice but to be her friend.

Unlike me, Allie was born and raised in this town. We spent six summers together at camp here at Lake Lucia. When I returned home after the summer, we stayed in touch through letters and texts.

At eighteen, I moved out of my parents’ house and haven’t spoken to them since. I didn’t need their money—my paternal grandparents had set up a trust fund for me when I was born. The only condition was that I had to complete my college degree, to prove I could live independently. After graduation, the lawyer representing my late grandparents contacted me and granted me access to the fund.

With financial freedom, I moved to Lake Falls and applied for a nurse practitioner position at Lakeside Memorial Hospital. This town had been my refuge during those summers— a place where I could breathe, where I felt both safe and at peace. There was never a question in my mind that I would eventually settle and build my life here.

“Dr. Sparks, Allie’s here. The patient’s wife and daughter are waiting in the quiet room,” Lucy says, pulling me from my thoughts.

Relief washes over me. Having Allie here will make this process a little easier.

“Okay, let’s talk with the family,” I reply.

Breaking the news of a patient's death is never easy. Their loved one's eyes—desperate, hopeful—search yours, but soon, you see that hope drain, leaving only despair. Allie has a special way with words that soothes families in their darkest moments, so I leave them in her capable hands and move on to the next patient.

After an uneventful remainder of the workday, and a report to the nurse practitioner covering the next shift, I head to the doctor’s lounge to grab my things. On the way, I pass Allie’s desk and see her documenting her notes for the day. As I walk by, she lightly grabs my arm, and my body tenses involuntarily. Allie is very touchy-feely, and I’m not. I prefer to keep people out of my personal space, and being touched makes me deeply uncomfortable. I accepted this about her long ago, but every now and then, it still catches me off guard.

“Are we still on for coffee at The Donut Hole tomorrow morning?” Allie asks, her hopeful blue eyes shining with excitement.

Inwardly I groan. I had forgotten all about our plans for Saturday. It’s been weeks since we both had a Saturday off. The Donut Hole is a cute little coffee shop next to the hardware store. They serve everything from basic black coffee to fancy specialty espresso and cappuccinos.

I had hoped to relax on my back deck tomorrow and dive into the stalker romance novel gathering dust on my bookshelf, but I know the time with Allie will do me good, and I need to check in on how things are going with her douchebag boyfriend. For months, I’ve been hinting that she should break up with him, but she refuses to listen.

“Of course, girl,” I reply. “Ten tomorrow morning?”

Allie nods with a grin, and we wish each other a good night. After gathering my things from the doctor’s lounge, I climb into my car, and head home. There’s a lot to get done before meeting Allie tomorrow.

Chapter 4

“Again, please reach out if you need anything,” I say softly to Mr. Smith’s wife and daughter. Larry Smith was a loving husband, father, and grandfather who tragically lost his life in a car accident today while traveling to visit a sick friend. Though grief overwhelms them, they seem to be holding together as best they can. Still, the pain in their eyes is unmistakable, and the days ahead will be difficult. Losing a loved one is never easy, no matter how much time passes. Moments like these are the hardest, and no one should have to endure them.

Being a social worker and therapist can be fulfilling, but it’s not a career for everyone. My work often involves gut-wrenching cases that burden my heart with their weight.

I’m looking forward to unwinding with my best friend tomorrow. Tessa and I rarely have days off together. I don’t know how she does it—she’s incredibly dedicated to her work, but I could never handle dealing with blood and bodily fluids like she does. The thought alone makes me shudder.

Getting away from the hospital for the day will be a much-needed break for both of us. Usually, I have to drag her out of the house after a long week of work. Tessa isn’t the most outgoing person, but she loves me, and we both share a passion for books, although her taste leans toward darker genres than mine. Back in the day, we were both obsessed withThe Twilight Series—she was all about Edward, and I was Team Jacob.

Though I have many friends in this town, Tess is the one I feel most comfortable with. She’s the one I turn to when I have troubling cases—child abuse, domestic violence, and sexual assault. It’s something I can talk to her about because she understands the healthcare system and, more importantly, knows that mental health is just as crucial as physical health. Sometimes, we meet for coffee at The Donut Hole, and other times it’s girls' night with margaritas at her place. We talk nearly every day, even if it’s just to share a funny video one of us found while scrolling through social media.

Stepping out of the quiet room I hear a familiar voice in the hallway. “Hey, Hannah.” I greet her with a smile. Growing up in Lake Falls, Hannah and I have known each other since childhood. I’ve lived in this town my whole life and never dreamed of living anywhere else, not even after what happened that summer.

I grew up with my mom and dad and have twin brothers who are five years younger than me. My parents met as teenagers, fell in love, and got married right after high school, giving us kids a picture-perfect childhood. Though I’ve always felt loved by my family, there was always a sense that something was missing, and I wanted to find my true love, the kind my parents had, and I believe I’ve found that in Dalton.

Dalton took me by surprise, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. He grew up not far from here, in Stillwater, and had just moved to Lake Falls after accepting a manager position at the local bank. The first time I saw him, I was at the bank depositing a check, and I remember feeling an odd sense of déjà vu, something I still don’t quite understand. Then, it seemed like he was everywhere I went—at the gas station, the grocery store, and the mall. I ran into him one evening after being stood up on a blind date. I remember feeling so upset, vulnerable, and insecure. Dalton approached me and offered to buy me a drink, and we ended up chatting, flirting, and having a few glasses of wine. He was so sweet, walking me to my car and then asking me out.

About two years into our relationship, we moved in together. Dalton had been persistent about it, pointing out that we’d already waited a long time. At first, I hesitated. Despite his usual caring and affectionate nature, he’s very particular about his privacy and doesn’t like people coming over.

A few months ago, I tried to start a book club with some friends. Dalton came home furious and made everyone leave, completely embarrassing me. The next day, he showed up with flowers and my favorite chocolates, apologizing profusely. He knew how much his behavior had hurt me and kept apologizing for days. Eventually, I dismissed it as him being overwhelmed by work. I know his job is demanding, so I try not to make things harder for him.

Glancing at the clock, I see it’s almost eight p.m. On-call days often stretch into late hours, and today is one of those days. Normally, I finish work at five, go home to cook dinner, and clean the house before Dalton gets home. But today has completely drained me, and I’m crossing my fingers that he’llbe okay with pizza tonight. Not only have I had to navigate the heartbreaking situation with the Smiths, but I also met a new client—a seven-year-old girl named Ansley, living with her drug-addicted mother. Ansley’s trapped in a tough situation, and it’s clear from her behavior the strain is starting to take its toll on her. The school reported the case to Child Protective Services for a thorough investigation, and I’ve been told their inquiries could drag on for weeks, maybe even months. I’m hoping Candice, Ansley’s mother, can pull herself together for her daughter’s sake and keep bringing her to our sessions. But deep down, I fear for Ansley’s future if things don’t change soon.

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