She clapped a hand over her mouth as his face darkened. “Sorry,” she breathed. “I . . . sorry. It’s just . . .” Liza shook her head. “Chad, we’ve already gone over this. You and me, we’re not a good idea. I’m sorry.”
The anger in his expression turned sullen. “You haven’t given us a real chance.”
“We’re associates, Chad. I . . . I respect you so much. I don’t want to ruin that, please.”
He stepped toward her again, toying with the same lock of hair that had fallen from her bun. “You won’t ruin it. Who else knows all your secrets, Liza? Who else accepts you for all you are? All you’ve done?”
Anger crashed through her, as did shame. He was using what she’d told him as a means to convince her to date him? She regretted that she’d gone out with him a few times when they’d first begun working together, and that she’d confided in him as a psychiatrist and friend—not about all the details of her history, but enough. In the beginning, when she’d believed they were a true team. She’d shared her past, thinking he’d be able to look at it clinically as she’d attempted to do since she’d begun studying psychology, to reassure her that she shouldn’t feel like a fraud who had no business treating the mentally ill. And he had . . . sort of. He’d prescribed an anti-anxiety medication that she’d stopped taking when she had trouble concentrating on her patients. He’d told her there were others she could try—sometimes it was a matter of finding the right cocktail—but she’d declined. Liza was determined to try a few other solutions first. “I appreciate your support. You’ve been a good friend, Chad.” She added some steel to her voice, enunciating the word friend.
Annoyance flashed in his gaze, but he stepped back, sighing and smoothing his hair. “Just take care of yourself, Liza.” He turned to go. “And conduct your therapy sessions somewhere more public from here on out.”
He left, closing the door behind him. Liza rolled her eyes. Right, because patients really wanted to open up about their deepest secrets sitting in the middle of the cafeteria. With a loud sigh, she sank into the chair behind her desk. At least she’d stopped shaking. But in the aftermath of the adrenalin rush she’d experienced when Simon charged at her, she felt drained.
She was rattled. God, she’d just been rattled on one scale or another since she’d opened that stairwell door two days before. Mr. Sadowski . . . her brother’s possible release . . . the session with Simon . . .
She crossed her arms, placed them on her desk and laid her head on them, taking deep, calming breaths. Her phone rang, startling her, and she grabbed for it, answering breathily.
“Hi, Dr. Nolan?”
Her stomach leapt. “Detective Davies.”
There was a short pause. “Yes,” he said, seeming surprised. Probably that she’d recognized his voice so easily. And maybe she was a little surprised too. Why couldn’t she get him out of her head? His expression, his laugh, his voice . . . him. “I hope I’m not bothering you, but I just received the log of recent key card usage. Unfortunately, it only goes back several days as the information is wiped that often, but I had some questions the man . . . ah”—Liza heard paper rustling—“Mike Henderson, who provided the log, didn’t seem equipped to answer.”
Liza blew out a breath on a smile. “The key card system here is a bit lax to say the least. I don’t know that any one person is in charge of it, to tell you the truth. Mike is actually a file clerk.”
“Ah, well that explains that.”
Liza smiled. “I’ll try my best to answer your question.”
“Great. So, it appears Steven Sadowski left the hospital around six thirty Monday night. He’s visible on several cameras doing so. Records indicate that a key card was assigned to Steven Sadowski on the day he was hired, and that card was used once to access a back stairwell with no camera yesterday morning.”
“Oh,” Liza breathed, her skin prickling.
Reed paused for a second. “The strange part is that the key card that corresponds with the video from him leaving Monday night is a different card registered to Gordon Draper.”
“That’s the name of the former director.”
“Ah, okay.” Reed paused. “Any idea why Steven Sadowski was using Gordon Draper’s assigned card in addition to his