Page 20 of In Death, Love Survives
After finishing up my paperwork, I quickly pack my tote bag with my laptop and other files I plan to use over the weekend.
This week was tough; with new patients being added and plans to work out, it always takes a toll. That’s another reason why I value my alone time at home.
No one can cause a disruption as I assess and plan, and I need the quiet in order to do so effectively.
There’s one new patient who I haven’t seen since the day he arrived earlier this week—Wolfe Walker. It was clear that day that I had sparked something in him, a past memory where he let his walls down.
Wolfe didn’t want to open up, just like most patients don’t on the first day. I wasn’t going to push him further, but there was something enticing about the way he spoke that hit deeply on a personal level.
One thing was obvious about Wolfe that day: he wanted me to believe that he was innocent. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt like he was telling me the truth.
What I told him was my own truth. In my role, it doesn’t matter what my thoughts are. Guilty, not guilty—I took an oath to help those in need, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.
If I can help others, maybe I’ll be able to help heal myself one day.
I know I can help Wolfe open up about how he’s feeling at the very minimum while he’s appealing his case. Part of me wants him to trust me beyond a professional scope. That thought should be frightening and make me take a step back, but it’s doing the opposite. I have a pull to this person, to just be there for him, and for that, I’m in unknown waters.
I suck in a deep breath as I mentally try to prepare for drinks with Ryan. It’s not that I don’t typically enjoy our time together at work, but I’ve learned the hard way that not everything is how it seems.
Having walls up may not be beneficial long-term, but for now, it serves its purpose. This week is once again proving my theory right.
Fixing my tote bag on my shoulder, I head out of my office. One drink with Ryan shouldn’t be a big deal.
“Good night, Dr. Fletcher,” a correctional officer says as I pass.
“Good night.”
Scanning my badge to leave, I spot Ryan across the way, talking to another employee in the parking lot.
It looks like Crawley’s assistant, June, from this far away. She’s one of the staff members who likes being around Ryan a little too much, but I see why.
The way he so easily talks to anyone is a talent, and he comes across so charming to everyone he speaks to. It’s no wonder that so many women practically fall at his feet.
I scan my badge through the final set of doors and hear loud chatter coming from the prison yard as I step out onto the sidewalk.
As I glance at my watch, I realize it’s before their dinner time.
I get a few shout-outs from the prisoners I work with as I head down the path and past the gates toward the parking lot.
Pausing, I notice it’s dusk. The pinks and purples of the setting sky against the mountains make it an almost picturesque evening.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I breathe out a sigh of relief that I’m almost going home to be alone.
It’s the time of day when my dad would normally call if we weren’t together. Something I’ll still cherish, feeling like he’s with me in spirit.
As I bask in the memory, suddenly, goose bumps start to prick along my skin. The sensation that someone is watching me is undeniable. I haven’t felt this way before.
My eyes pop open, and I look around to see if I’m right. This unsettling feeling is unnerving.
As I scan my surroundings, I don’t see anyone looking at what I’m doing. Ryan is still chatting with June, and no other staff members are nearby. It’s just me, alone like usual, yet the feeling won’t go away.
I’m under someone’s direct gaze, but who?
I look to the yard to see if it’s one of my patients or another prisoner. Someone is making my body have such a visceral reaction.
That’s when my eyes connect with the person who is making me feel this intensely—the one my body is reacting to once again when it shouldn’t be.
Wolfe Walker is staring at me.
