dead woman in Cincinnati.
Every 4 hrs.
Or else.
Or else more of this. More memories, more corpses.
He pulled out the bottle and shoved one of the pills into his mouth, wishing he had the bogus vodka to wash it down.
The fear vanished in minutes, and he found he was exhausted from the tension.
Sleep.
Then Wendy.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Let me see your pills,” Wendy said.
Anita turned from the window of Dr. Hannah Todd’s fifth-floor office. After hanging up on Wendy, she’d made an appointment and caught a cab to the NC Neurosciences Hospital, where she waited in an outpatient room. Anita had finally answered one of Wendy’s repeated calls, and Wendy had hurried down to make sure her friend was okay.
And part of her wanted to make sure Halcyon wasn’t back in Anita’s life, because Halcyon should have died along with Susan Sharpe.
“Do you believe me now?” Anita asked. She was dressed in street clothes, the bandage still on her head, though she’d changed for her appointment and wore a loose white blouse and pleated slacks.
“I don’t know what to believe.”
“I thought I was freaking out, having little fantasies. I know we’ve been friends for a long time, but I couldn’t remember when I met Roland.” After a pause, Anita lowered her voice and added, “Or Susan.”
“Don’t say that name.”
“You don’t remember, do you?”
“Show me your pills.”
Anita rummaged in her handbag and came out with the orange bottle. She read from the label. “A. Molkesky. Take one every four hours or else.”
She tossed the pill bottle to Wendy, who nearly dropped it, though they were only three feet apart. “These are just like mine,” Wendy said.
“These are just like the ones from ten years ago.”
Something tugged at Wendy’s memory, but she pushed it down. She recalled what Anita had said about “monsters in their holes.” Oh, she’d had holes, all right.
“Are you taking them on time?” Wendy asked.
“Now I am. After I figured out the ‘Or else’ part.”
“I thought you were going to turn these in.”
“I don’t think I better do that.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Yeah. And the pills help. Because when I don’t take them, it all comes sneaking back.”
“What does?” Wendy wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“Dr. Briggs. Us. The Monkey House.”
“Us?”
“You, me, and Roland. You talked us into it, said it was a chance to make some extra cash. Plus we thought it was real anti-establishment stuff, brain research without a net.”
Wendy felt jittery, because she caught a vivid image of a smirking Dr. Briggs. Sebastian. He’d been a doctor here, hadn’t he?
Something else. She could see his face, smiling, leaning forward with his lips puckered. And from his voice came the words, “Wendy, my sweet little Igor.”
“No,” Wendy said, willing the image from her head.
“Yeah,” Anita said. “I don’t know where the others came in. David and Susan. They probably just wanted money, too. And Alexis, but she was tied in with Briggs.”
Wendy had kept in touch with Alexis over the years, though the casual meetings for coffee had become less frequent and more awkward, as if the only things they had to talk about were things they couldn’t talk about.
“Alexis,” Wendy said. “Is she still on staff?”
“She has a lab here in the basement, but her office is in the nursing school. I see her in the hall once in a while when I come for therapy.”
“Does she…say anything?”
Anita shook her head. “Not about Susan Sharpe. She’s got professional standing to worry about now.”
Wendy wanted to change the subject fast. “What’s the longest you’ve gone without the pills?”
Anita looked at the clock on the wall, which was pushing six o’clock. “Five hours is about as long as I can stand. Then it all starts crashing in and I remember what happened out there at the factory.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Anita sat on the sofa, unconsciously perching in a pose that might have passed for seductive. Wendy had drawn Anita many times, and even the most innocuous figure studies had turned out erotically charged. Wendy wasn’t sure whether it was something in Anita’s nature, the connection of the friendship, or some secret carnal impulse in Wendy that was always trying to escape.
She suspected her impulse might have broken loose a few times, and that frightened her more than Anita’s recollections.
“We did these drug trials,” Anita said, with the patience of an adult lecturing a child. “The drugs were supposed to help people dealing with trauma, so we pretended to attack one another to stimulate violence and trigger our fear responses so Briggs could monitor the results.”
Wendy had a vague memory of a high ceiling, dark clutter all around, stalking through corridors to find someone.
And not just the image but the feeling returned, the hunger of the predator, the rage that Susan was after Dr. Briggs, but Susan could never have him because Briggs belonged to Wendy.
The nerve of that fucking bitch.
“You haven’t told this to anyone?” Wendy asked. Now it was her turn to look out the window. A long way down.
“No.”
“I wouldn’t. It sounds totally crazy, and they’ll lock you away in a nice rubber room on the seventh floor.”
“I’m not telling anybody anything. They might take away my Halcyon.”
“Why do you call it Halcyon, anyway? There’s nothing on the label.”
Anita smiled. “You’re playing me, aren’t you?”
“Huh?”
“Pretending like you don’t remember. Halcyon was the drug Briggs was testing.”
Because the room was for voluntary outpatients, the window wasn’t barred like those on the top floor. She could open it and lure Anita over. Then no more talk of Susan and Briggs.
“I’m tired of remembering,” Anita said. “I’m taking my next dose. Give me my bottle back.”
Wendy realized she was still gripping the orange bottle. She crossed the room and gave it to her, then watched as Anita poured the remaining seven pills into her palm.
“That’s barely enough to get you to morning,” Wendy said. “Do you want some of mine?”
“Bad things might happen when we take each other’s pills.”
“Bad things happen anyway.”
Anita took a bottle of water from her purse and washed down a pill. “In a couple of minutes, it’ll dumb me down pretty good. But I want you to remember something very important for me.”
