Page 21 of Justice II

My next step was to talk to Storie’s therapist. I hopped in my whip and drove to Bowie where Lena Braithwaite’s office was. She and Sloane went to grad school together and she came highly recommended.

I needed to know what she thought of Storie. Was Storie capable of killing her mother and an animal?

Why Storie even do that? She adored Dream. It was Kira who was capable. She was jealous and furious that I chose Melody over her. She hated that I cut her off.

Melody wanted me to believe that a fifteen-year-old was capable of manipulating that entire situation and setting up a grown ass woman.

The more I thought about it the more insane it seemed.

I arrived at the office and marched through the corridor. The woman behind the counter looked at me quizzically.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“I don’t but I need to speak with Ms. Braithwaite. My daughter is one of her patients. Storie Banks. I’m Justice Banks.”

“Just a moment, sir,” the woman responded as she picked up the phone to relay the message.

“You can speak with her. She has an appointment in twenty minutes and so she won’t be able to talk with you for long.”

“Twenty is more than enough.”

Her office looked the same as it had when I brought Storie in. Two chairs, a couch, tissues within reach of every seat. I took one of the chairs while she shut the door.

“What’s happened?”

“I need to know what my daughter talks about when she’s in here.” I looked at her blankly.

She sat across from me and crossed her legs. Lena was a pretty, heavyset woman with sister locs that cascaded down her back. She wore a bright red lipstick to counter her dark suit.

Something about cherub cheeks and triple d breasts looked comforting. But I needed to stay focused. A nigga like me ain’t have time for comfort. There was the business, rivals, liars and possibly a psychopathic child.

“So, I can discuss her progress and any concerns about her safety. But I can’t give you a transcript of her sessions.”

“I don’t need a transcript,” I dismissed.

“Then tell me what you’re concerned about.”

I leaned forward, burrowing my eyes into hers. I needed her to see the seriousness of the situation.

“A woman who worked in my house made some devastating accusations about her.”

“What accusations?” She tilted her head to the side.

“That she hurt an animal.”

Her expression remained the same as she waited for me to continue. She had a good poker face.

“My youngest daughter’s horse died. This woman says Storie was responsible. Says she found bottles of antifreeze in her room that proved it.”

“Did you see them?” she asked.

“I searched the room today. There wasn’t shit in there.”

“Was Storie home when you searched?”

“Nope.”

“Have you spoken to her about the accusation?”