Dr. Ackerman

After I spoke with Frank yesterday, I’d went back to my office, locked the door, and pulled Elizabeth’s file from my desk drawer. I read it word-for-word, looking for anything that may have caused a lethal reaction.

The file only lists prescriptions Elizabeth was being given in the treatment of alcoholism, nothing out of the ordinary. I lock the folder back in my drawer and turn to my laptop. The myriad of emails from the hospitals Elizabeth had visited didn’t indicate anything I don’t already know. That is…until I reach the very last one. Scrolling through the entire list of prescriptions Elizabeth had been taking, my breath catches at the second to last one…Tricyclic—an anti-depressant.

“Fuck! Why wasn’t this included in any of her medical files? Dr. Miller should have been aware of this and noted it in the hard copy of the chart.” My voice echoes through the empty room.

The interaction between the antidepressant and muscle relaxer she’d been given would have increased her heart rate to levels that—if not treated—would end in heart attack.

As I pace around my office, I decide what to do with this information. If the James sisters find out what happened to their mother, it wouldn’t end well for me. Tracy, I’m not as concerned about. I could easily convince her it was an accident. Lacy, on the other hand, would be a challenge. The way she pressed me, about seeing her after she’d overheard the conversation I had with Mack, gives me the impression she’d do whatever it takes to find out what happened to her mother.

A deep laugh rumbles my chest. I’m not sure who in the fuck she thinks she’s dealing with. I step over to my desk, then reach below and pull out a briefcase. When I key in the combination and slide the latches, the locks pop and I lift the top. My lips curve into a lopsided grin.

The foam interior is molded with several different shaped slots that house syringes, rubber hose, and vials filled with enough muscle relaxer to bring down a large horse. I close the lid, latch it, then set it back under my desk and pick up the phone to page Tracy.

The knock on the door is light, and I make quick strides to unlock it.

“You wanted to see me?” she asks, peeking her head in then stepping through as I wave her in.

As she steps past me, I grab her arm and spin her around, placing my hand behind her neck, then pull her in, crushing my lips to hers, taking what I want.

She shoves at my chest, pushing me away and a loud smack resonates as her palm connects with my face. “Don’t fucking touch me!” she growls, wiping her mouth. “You ruined your chances with me when I caught you fucking your receptionist.”

“You didn’t have any complaints when you let me tie you to the headboard and she was servicing you.” I capture her hand before it connects with my face again and twist it around behind her back until her body stiffens in pain. “You’re going to sit your fucking ass down and listen to what I have to say,” I grind out, my voice low and threatening close to her ear. “Otherwise, I don’t have any problem sharing pictures of you in very compromising positions to anyone and everyone at this fucking facility. The humiliation would be more than your little mind could bear. Now, are you going to behave?”

Her lips clamp shut, and her nod is slight as she agrees.

I push her down in the seat in front of my desk. “Now, I’m supposed to meet your sister at my office in the city for our session, but I think I’d rather make it a house call.” Her quick intake of breath is exactly the reaction I expected. “I have no interest in fucking her. However, she does have some interest in learning more about what happened with your mother.”

“What do you mean?”

“It seems your sister may have some idea that something other than natural causes related to alcoholism caused your mother’s heart attack, but we both know otherwise, and I would like us to both explain that to her before we begin the session. I want to know her mind is free of any doubts about my abilities. It will also reduce the need for multiple sessions. Do you think you’re capable of convincing your sister to have the session at her apartment?”

She shrugs. “I don’t think it will be a problem.”

“Make sure it isn’t. Now, your feisty little performance has made my dick hard. Are you interested in doing something about that?” Her face distorts in disgust, and my deep laugh fills the room. “You can let yourself out. I need to make a call.”