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CRIMSON SECRETS

DIYA

I was sipping my whiskey when I saw Asher climbing down the stairs, hands buried in his pockets.

The blonde wig made him look sleazy, and his eyes weren’t green anymore—they were shit brown. Still, he stood out from the rest of them. He looked like he was here to party, like he hadn’t just coming out after killing a man.

Quickly adjusting the masquerade mask—women were allowed to wear masks inside to keep their anonymity—I looked at the clueless man standing next to me, the one I used to get into the club.

“Excuse me. I need to use the ladies’ room,” I said, giving him a demure smile.

“Just go straight and turn left. You won’t miss it.”

I looked around, carefully memorizing the details of the club that would help me sneak in and out.

I wanted, needed to see what Asher did to the man, and then I had to get the fuck out. If the Sheriff found me here, I’d become a suspect again, and this time for a crime I hadn’t committed.

One time with a murdered man—coincidence. The second time? Fuck no.

I moved toward the restroom, scanning the winding staircase. It was too exposed. Anyone could see me, and despite the mask, they’d know it was me.

It took me five minutes to find the stairs behind the storage room. Making sure I was alone, I took two steps at a time. The fourth door had a metal nameplate that read Tomas Hannigan.

I pushed the door open and stumbled back, fingers trembling.

Oh hell.

I had seen blood, I had seen death, but this was… a montage of rage and violence. This was hell. Layne would have loved this.

His fingers were broken, his nails ripped off, and blood still slowly dripped from the wounds in his body. Drip, drip, like a leaking tap.

This wasn’t just theatrics—it was a warning to whoever he was going to kill next.

Asher wanted these men to fear him, to see this cruelty, and understand that he was coming for them.

I gave the room a quick once-over, hoping he hadn’t left behind any evidence.

Asher was a problem, but he was something I could deal with by myself. After he finished what he’d started.

Some sins could only be paid for with blood, some sins needed more than the garden-variety justice. Whatever these men had done to his friend, it must have been something monstrous. Bad enough to make him willing to burn the world down just to settle the score.

I didn’t know the details, but I wanted those men punished, tortured, killed. I understood Asher. Even admired the resolution.

Sometimes, even death wasn't the right punishment.

Opening my purse, I quickly pulled on my gloves. Grabbing a wet wipe, I wiped the door handle, the drawer handles—the usual places one would find fingerprints. I closed the drawers he had left opened, arranged the objects that were clattered on the floor, and surveyed the room before I walked downstairs and went back to the guy who got me in.

“What took you so long? Are you okay?”

“I think I should leave,” I whispered, abashedly looking away from him. “My stomach… I’m not feeling very well.”

He nodded quickly, his lips pinching at the sides. “I’ll take you home,” he said, but I knew he didn’t want to leave yet. I gave him a reassuring smile.

“It’s fine. I came in my car,” I said. He nodded and squeezed my hand.

“Goodnight. Take care!”

“Night.”

It took me twenty minutes to get back to the Hollow Inn. Wondering where Asher was, I opened the tracker app to find he was on his way back to Hollowhaven.

How was he traveling? Where did the suit come from, the disguises?

It looked like he did plan it to the last detail before committing himself to the asylum.

I removed the cameras and bugs, packed my bags, and slept restlessly, dreaming about monsters and men. When my alarm rang the next morning, I woke up with a smile, took a quick shower, changed into a dress, and walked out.

I was itching to see Asher, to show him how easy it was to catch him.

He was too reckless, too blinded by his fury to see the bigger picture. He needed to be taught a lesson. Something that would keep him out of prison.

The receptionist smiled when I handed her the keys.

“Leaving? I hope everything went well last night?”

“Yeah, it was alright. Bye, Rexy.”

I walked to my car and took off. I had a feeling Vincent would be making a visit to the asylum soon.

“Oh, Ash. I don’t know whether I should kill you or…”

I parked my car and walked toward Hollowhaven. Sliding the door open, I walked in before softly closing it behind me. The place was unusually quiet today.

I went to the nurses’ station. Nurse Becca and Nurse Shelly looked up from their files.

“Need anything?” Becca asked. “You’re back so soon.”

“I need Doctor T’s patient files. I will take some of his patients and hand over the rest to Doctor Stanley and Camille.”

“Did the Sheriff's department find his key, Doctor? I can’t seem to find it anywhere?”

“I don’t think they did,” I said with a frown.

“We have another set for emergencies,” Shelly said, sliding open a steel locker. She searched through things before she grabbed a bunch of keys and handed them to me. “Here you go.”

Thanking her, I went to Doctor T’s office and stifled a yelp when I saw Asher on the chair like he belonged here, leafing through something. He stilled, and then his eyes went into slits.

“What? You got bored already? You said you’d be spending the night with Vincent.”

“Yeah, I came back earlier because I missed you,” I said with a snarky smile, walking closer to him. “What are you doing here? You stole his keys, didn’t you?”

“Smart,” he said. “And deadly.” Sliding himself out of the chair, he leaned closer. “Poison, isn’t it? Your tool of the trade. But the hand… what did you do with Doctor Dawson's hand?”

I did nothing with Toby's hand. It was all Layne.

I stiffened. My breath came out, shallow and uneven.

How did he…

The bastard was resourceful.

“Poison. As beautiful as you, and just as lethal. That fits.”

“What the fuck are you babbling about?” I asked, composing my face, but I knew he saw my truth in that flickering moment of hesitation.

“You know what . You killed Doctor Dawson,” he said it like he hadn’t a smidgen of doubt about my guilt. “You ran… because you got caught.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now leave before I call someone to haul your ass out of this room. You shouldn’t be here,” I said, pulling him by his shirt. He didn’t resist. I let go when we reached the door.

“I’m curious to know more. I will, and when I do…”

“When you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t you forget, Asher. I saw you kill a man.”

“Do you have any evidence, Doc?” His voice was sarcastic. I wanted to bite that smile off his lips. “You don’t. Maybe you’re the one who killed Doctor T. What would the lovely Detective Knight think if he caught wind of this?”

The familiar name was like a slap.

I stilled, my heart pounding in my ears. I fought the urge to glance over my shoulder, half-expecting Knight’s steely eyes to materialize out of thin air.

“You son of a bitch,” I hissed, stepping forward before I could stop myself. I bared my teeth at him, every muscle in my body coiled like a spring ready to snap. “Don’t you dare threaten me. I keep warning you.”

“And I keep ignoring it,” he said, jaw clenched. He gripped the front of my dress and pulled me closer until his nose was pressed against mine. I pushed him away with a snarl.

“Leave.” I opened the door. He gave me a look before he walked past me, leaving me alone in the soft silence that grew thick until my heart pounded.

Calm the fuck down.

When I finally stopped shaking, I went through Doctor T’s shelves and pulled the older patient records one by one, leafing through the scribbled notes.

It took me half an hour when I finally came across the name. Riley McLaren. This must be it. The year, her name, and the diagnoses were all printed on a slightly rotting file.

I opened the file with a frown to see it was almost empty.

There were a few pages of clinical diagnoses and a single page of BIRP mental health progress notes in Doctor T’s weird scrawl, and that was all. Most of it was missing.

Was it Asher or was it someone else, trying to tie the loose ends?

I walked out of Doctor T’s office, locking the door behind me.

I called Trina when I sat down on the couch.

“How’s work?”

“Boring. How are you?” Trina asked. “How was your date with the hot cop?”

“The date was good, but something else happened. Something much more interesting.” I told her about The Gates, and she gasped.

“Shit. That was bad.”

“Was it? I’ve got leverage now, and I’m to teach that fucking rat to not come into my room and touch my things.”

Trina laughed, and then she growled.

“Not that, you fool… I’m going to make Andouillette with your intestines if you keep doing…”

Another voice in the background said, “She belongs in an asylum.”

I laughed, shaking my head. Usually, Trina was the kindest of the three of us, but she became a beast in the kitchen.

“Everything good, Trina?”

“I have the most useless kitchen crew in the world. My sous chef is a pig. I’m hanging up, Dee. I hope your rat learns his lesson.”

“I’m sure he will. Bye, babe, and don’t kill your kitchen crew yet.”

“We will see.”

She hung up.

I looked at the clock with a sigh before walking toward my tea kettle. Adding some dried ginger, cardamom, and milk to the boiling tea, I poured it into a cup with a sigh. I needed chai to get through this day.

I pulled open the search page and settled in, waiting for the right time to teach Asher his lesson.

Waiting was the most tedious part of the hunt. And the most crucial.

I loved it.

I walked out and spent time talking with Millie and Sarah, listening to one of Jimmy’s infamous songs, and tracking Asher’s every move.

When the clock struck seven, I waited until everyone was in the cafeteria before sneaking into Asher’s room—stable, non-violent patients had their own rooms. If only they knew how unstable he was!

I opened the small plastic bottle on his bedside table, crushed an Ambien—insomnia did have its perks—and stirred it into the water.

When I was done, I went to the cafeteria and sat down, keeping my eyes on Asher, while he kept his eyes on me.

Camille and Doctor Stanley left soon after the dinner was over.

Only the night duty nurses and orderlies would stay in the facility at night. If things got out of hand, I was always available, but nights were mostly quiet.

When the dinner was over, the patients were given a few hours in the entertainment room if they wanted.

By nine, the place was deserted, and shadows moved about, sinister in the quiet that lingered. Voices began to settle.

I waited as the night-duty nurses made their last rounds, checking in on everyone before settling in.

“Call me if you need anything,” I said to Becca before walking out.

Just a few more hours…

“I can’t wait, Pussycat.”