The Wrong Patient: A Psychological Thriller by Rachel Hargrove

Author:Rachel Hargrove [Hargrove, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-26T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-SIX

AVA

This is risky.

My restraining order is still in effect, and I am pushing my luck. Her son won’t be happy to see me. I wanted to avoid this, but Luis is the last link to her disappearance. I have to talk to him.

I knock on the door.

A young man answers, a backward cap thrown on his messy waves and a brown kimono tied loosely around his waist. His mother’s high cheekbones are mirrored on his face. As his eyes land on me, I fight the urge to turn away.

“Hi. Sorry to bother you so early.”

His nostrils flare. “You’re my mom’s stalker.”

“Yes, I am. I mean, I was.”

“What do you want?”

“I was wondering if we could talk.” I let that hover in the air, but he doesn’t move. “I’m Ava Greene. It’s nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand, and he uncrosses his arms to give me a limp handshake.

“Luis. Does your sister know you’re here?”

“No, she doesn’t.”

I study him, frowning. He knows I have a sister? I guess that isn’t strange. His mom has been missing for months, and my name is attached to hers. He probably researched everything about me.

“Can I come in?”

Luis stares at me. I brace for the door to slam in my face, but he moves aside and beckons me forward. I follow him into Dr. Selene’s home. He’s obviously done some redecorating since his mother disappeared. He strolls past a large, signed poster of a mullet-wearing man on a throne next to a tiger.

I stare at it. “Wow.”

“Cool, isn’t it?”

I bite my tongue. “It’s…well, it’s a statement piece, as we say in the business.”

“Which business?”

“Interior design. I’m in real estate, but I hire people to stage homes.”

He closes the door. “Is that, like, when you move in someone else’s furniture?”

“Yep.”

He shuffles into the kitchen, his loud voice bouncing off the mostly blank walls. “I saw this movie where the girl was an interior designer, and she changed the jackets on hardbacks to make them all the same color. So that they’d, like, be a gradient on the shelf. Does that help with selling the house?”

“You’d be surprised.”

He opens the fridge. “Huh.”

I nod, a little lightheaded from the circumstances. I’m discussing interior design with Dr. Selene’s son. I sink into a big L-shaped, slate gray couch. A gaming chair sits in front of a giant screen attached to the wall. He pops the tab of an energy drink, then hesitates.

“Would you like anything? Water or something?”

“No thanks.”

He throws himself onto the couch, settling in the cushions. “So, what’s up?”

I gape at him. “Why did you let me inside?”

“Uh—because you asked.”

“I know, but I thought it’d be harder to convince you.”

He puts the can on a coaster. “Yeah, well. I think a chat with you is overdue.”

“Really?”

He nods solemnly.

That’s a relief. If he’s following his mother’s case as closely as I imagine, no doubt he’s read the allegations against me. He must be desperate for answers.

“Thank you for letting me in. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while, but everybody kept telling me not to.

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