Off the clock, of course.
ELEVEN
DYNAMITE
MAGNOLIA
“Something is wrong with you.”
I slowly look up from my coffee with a frown, then arch a brow at Evie. “Hey there, pot, I’m kettle.”
”We got jokes this morning? Dad jokes at that?” Eve grabs the coffee out of my hands, sniffs it then goes to the fridge to add creamer because now it’shercoffee. “Must have seen Donovan recently.”
I did, actually. I saw him and Dolly both yesterday to review med inventory again because it’s still not quite right. Which is odd.
It’s more than odd, it’s a problem because it means someone has been taking stuff from the locked med closets on all three wards, but it’s what’s been taken that’s strange.
Metoclopramdine. Losartan. Amitriptyline, and Lithium.
Why would anyone steal something for acid reflux and blood pressure? Or an antidepressant and mood stabilizer? Especially here, where everyone has access to a doctor who could prescribe whatever medication was needed for those conditions. Not to mention, the doses are minimal if it’s supposed to last someone an entire month.
It’s a bizarre combination of things but the general consensus is that it might be more than one person. I have a hard time believing even one person might steal from the asylum let alone two. At least up on Ward C. Not the staff that work with Isaak and I. They’re good people, we trust them, but even if we didn’t, we have access to their medical records to check their scripts and conditions. Plus, anyone who works at Blackhurst is subject to drug screenings at least once a month, more if we think we need it and it’s now biweekly because of all the shortages. They’re considering searching people when they clock out for the day but with the security scans and everything, they’re waiting for more of a solid reason for the time being.
I think it’s someone who delivers the meds.
Not one single member of Blackhurst Ridge’s staff has popped for anything they don’t have current prescriptions for. The cameras on the card readers and in the hall outside of the med closets haven’t picked up anything suspicious. It’s always the same doctors and nurses who’ve always had access, no changes there at all. It’s weird.
”See!” Evie points a finger in my face as she leans against the counter next to me. “Something is wrong with you.”
”You’re ridiculous.”
She shakes her head. “Maybe, but you’re the one who’s done nothing but space out every time we talk over the last few months.”
”That’s not completely out of the norm for me, Eve.” It’s not, but I have to admit, to myself, not her, I’m a lot more distracted than usual. There are four very good reasons for it but I’m not ready to talk about that.
”Norm or not, it’s more. It’s intense. And you’ve started picking at your cuticles again.”
Sometimes I hate how well she knows me.
As soon as I found out about Camden, I started tearing my cuticles to shreds.
It was a nervous habit I thought I’d broken when I was a kid. One I was forced to break because my mother wouldn’t have my hands looking like theywent through a meat grinder. So, the habit died right along with the last threads of my self confidence, and it wasn’t an issue for years.
Not even when Evie and I applied for off site housing. I still didn’t fall back into that despite the anxiety I had over moving out of my parent’s house and blowing part of my contract open, but that was before I knew my fate.
My father announcing that I’m going to be bound to that creep made me start all over again, to the point where I was almost biting my nails, too.
Oddly enough, it stopped happening when we started moving, when I was running around behind the Dean’s back, and it hasn’t been a thing since working on Ward C.
Probably because fighting for myself a little bit and winning a few of the smaller battles gave my confidence a boost and I wasn’t completely letting everyone walk all over me.
I hadn’t even noticed I started again, honestly, but that’s not surprising since I’m checked out most of the time.
Because I’m pretty sure I found my scent matches.
Leave it to Evie to notice.
But I don’t want to get into that, which is why I grab her free hand and hold it up in front of her face. “You don’t exactly have room to talk.”
