Free Arizona Allspice by Renee Lewin

nurse pointed me towards the security guard. A female security guard wearing latex gloves waved a metal detector wand over me and then proceeded to search through my purse for any contraband. She studied curiously the eight steel rings that she dug out from the bottom of my purse. I needed to call Raul soon to thank him for giving the police the truth.
     
    Finding no rope, Swiss army knife, or sleeping pills in my bag, security let me pass. I walked along a hall that had a row of doors on the right that led to various medical and therapy rooms, and a few psychiatrist offices. The right side of the hall was made of glass panes that permitted me to pause a moment and look into the dining hall, library, fitness and recreation halls. Even though all the patients wore blue gowns or blue scrubs that blended them together like a herd of sheep, I spotted Dad right away, sitting at a table in the back playing checkers. I continued down the hall anxious to finally save my Dad from this cold, sterile place. The door up ahead and on the right would get me into the rec room. My pace quickened towards it.
     
    “Excuse me,” a voice called.
     
    “What?!” I whipped around, aggravated.
     
    “Before you speak with your family member you need to have a word with me,” said the psychiatrist while giving me a quick once over.
     
    I sighed and followed him into his office, self-conscious of how on-edge I felt. “Sorry about snapping at you earlier. I’ve been really stressed out,” I apologized as I lowered myself into the chair in front of the desk in his office.
     
    Dr. Agneau closed the door behind him and sat behind his desk. “I understand completely. No need to apologize,” he said, oozing sincerity and gazing into my eyes. “You feel like you’ve lost control of the welfare of your loved one. I can personally say I will do whatever I can to make this situation as easy as possible for both you and your family member.”
     
    His hazel eyes glowed in contrast to his dark skin. His eyes, his faint Franco-Caribbean accent, and solid physique added to his air of exoticism. “Thank you,” I said.
     
    “First I need some information from you. What’s the name of your family member?”
     
    “Edward Roberts.”
     
     He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a folder with the tab that read Roberts, E . He pulled a pen from his lab coat front pocket and scanning the paperwork he rattled off questions and scribbled my answers. “Your name please?”
     
    “Elaine Roberts.”
     
    “Relationship to the patient?”
     
    “Daughter.”
     
    He looked up from the clipboard. “How old are you?” he gave a small smile.
     
    “I’m twenty,” I answered the question that was probably not listed in the paperwork.
     
    His eyes glistened. “People say I look a bit older but I’m actually only 27,” he shared.
     
    “Oh,” I said ambiguously, not acknowledging his flirtatiousness.
     
    He glanced back down at his papers. “Have you witnessed any violent episodes from your father before the incident with the police on May 2nd?”
     
    “No, never.”
     
    Dr. Agneau thumbed through several papers, a furrow between his brows. “Are you sure? Because I have documents suggesting otherwise.”
     
    My left hand massaged my throbbing left temple. How could he possibly know about the little incidents that occurred at home? “What documents?” I asked.
     
    “We spoke to Emanuel Roberts, he called to check on his father, and he told us that your dad has exhibited violent behavior prior to the most recent episode.”
     
    “You know what, how about you believe who you want to believe? Believe me or believe my brother Emanuel who’s sitting in jail right now for his own violent behavior,” I stared Dr. Agneau down.
     
    He contemplated my statement while tapping the pen on the edge of his desk. He laid the pen off to the side, grasped a page out of the folder and balled it up between his large brown hands. “I guess