be hit and miss in their own ways. And we’re dealing with the human mind and a whole bevy of unique experiences. There are endless variables.”
Reed smiled. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Liza gave a short laugh, thinking about what he’d asked. “I guess I simply prefer to focus exclusively on treating mental and emotional suffering with behavioral intervention.” She tilted her head. “Psychology can be similar to detective work. It’s sort of like searching for the lost. If you can figure out what turns they took, how deep they went, you can find them and ultimately help lead them home.” She leaned forward. “Somewhere in there, Reed, in the midst of all those twisted pathways and shadowy corners is . . . where the truth lives. Find that, and you find them.”
“And then the real work begins,” he said softly.
She blinked at him. He got it, he really did. “Exactly,” she answered.
He was gazing at her so intensely and she felt exposed suddenly, as though he’d heard something she hadn’t meant to say. “And of course, I have to be nosy sometimes too,” she said, attempting to lighten the moment.
He laughed. “I guess you do.” They smiled at each other for a moment before he said, “You love it. Your work.”
“Yes. Very much. I’ll be honest, there aren’t many moments of triumph, but when there are, it’s like . . .” She felt a buzz in her chest, the desire to convey to him how those rare moments felt. Her eyes widened as she gathered her thoughts, sitting forward and opening her mouth to speak when she suddenly realized she was at risk of getting carried away. She grimaced, leaning back as her pained expression morphed into a short laugh. “Anyway, I could obviously go on and on. But you’re here for a reason and my dissertation on mental health strategies is not that reason.” But as Liza smiled across at him, she realized that, though it was a topic she was passionate about, she enjoyed talking to him in general, and it was clear to her that whether they were joking with each other the way they had the first night they met or talking about serious topics, she wanted more of it. She wanted to know what baseball team he liked, and whether he’d ever been to the ocean. She wanted to know if he read books or liked movies, and what he thought about first thing in the morning. And somehow she knew he’d have interesting things to say about all of it.
I like you, Reed Davies.
Dammit.
It wasn’t fair, because she couldn’t have any more of him than she’d already had. And it wasn’t enough.
Reed sat back, regarding her. It was like he knew what she was thinking. Liza cleared her throat, her hand moving unconsciously to the collar of her button-down blouse. She tugged at it and then realized what she was doing, her hand fluttering away. His gaze lingered on her throat for a moment and she knew he’d seen the thin pink scar. Her stomach cramped. “Anyway,” she said, picking up one of the photos from her lap, “This is a barbiturate that’s commonly prescribed for patients with anxiety and sleep disorders.” She picked up the next two. “Both of these are benzodiazepines, which are usually used for serious panic attacks.” She picked up the last one. “And this is an antidepressant.”
Reed nodded as she passed the photos back to him. “Thank you.” He pulled up something on his phone and turned it toward her. “Do you recognize this man?”
Liza moved her gaze to the screen showing a man who looked to be in his forties or fifties with a receding hairline and an unshaven face. There was something seedy-looking about his expression that she couldn’t exactly describe in words. Staring at him sent a shiver down her spine. She would remember him if she’d ever seen him before. “No. Who is he?”
“Another victim. Same manner of death as Steven Sadowski.”
Liza pulled in a surprised breath. “The eyes . . .”
Reed gave a quick nod. “Yes, the same.”
“Oh my God. Why? How?”
“I don’t know, but it appears he was a low-level dealer of prescription medication.” He gestured to the folder where he’d put the photos on the table in front of him. “Those pill bottles were found in his apartment, along with multiple baggies of unlabeled pills.”
“What does he have to do with Steven Sadowski or this hospital?”