Legend Press Ltd, 51 Gower Street, London, WC1E 6HJ
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Contents © Ann Gosslin 2020
The right of the above author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data available.
Print ISBN 978-1-78955-1-150
Ebook ISBN 978-1-78955-1-167
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All characters, other than those clearly in the public domain, and place names, other than those well-established such as towns and cities, are fictitious and any resemblance is purely coincidental.
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Ann Gosslin was born and raised in New England in the US, and moved overseas after leaving university. Having held several full-time roles in the pharmaceutical industry, with stints as a teacher and translator in Europe, Asia, and Africa, she currently works as a freelancer and lives in Switzerland.
The Shadow Bird is Ann’s debut novel. Her second novel, The Double, will be published by Legend Press in 2021.
Visit Ann
www.anngosslin.com
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‘Human madness is oftentimes a cunning and most feline thing. When you think it fled, it may have but become transfigured into some still subtler form.’
Herman Melville
1
The Meadows
Lansford, New York
February, Present Day
The dark hair, hacked off with a kitchen knife, was the only sign of anything wrong. Asleep in the narrow bed, her face scrubbed clean of make-up, she could be any ordinary girl, dreaming of boys and Saturdays at the mall. But once the drugs wore off, she would surely resurface to whatever nightmare had brought her here.
Erin pressed her fingers to the girl’s wrist and waited for the flutter of blood. Like any good doctor, she tried to keep her emotions in check, but some patients distressed her more than others. If one of the staff going off their shift hadn’t spotted the girl’s body in a snowbank by the gate, she would not have survived the night. In her shoulder bag, they’d found a four-inch paring knife, a handful of hair, and two keys on a plain metal ring. But no ID, and six hours later still no news from the police.
During those first frantic minutes in the clinic’s emergency bay, after they carried her inside, Erin had stripped off the glittery top and torn tights, desperate to rub some life into the girl’s frozen limbs. Only to find that the skin on her arms and thighs had been cut and re-cut. A network of hash marks, intricate as fish scales.
Pellets of snow ticked against the window. Erin turned her head, sensing rather than seeing the snowdrifts banked against the glass. Too dark to see much of anything beyond the spectral shrubs, shrouded in snow.
A commotion broke the silence. High heels smacking the stone floor like gunshots. Erin stepped into the hall to see a young nurse hurrying towards her, a panicky look in her eyes.
‘We’ve got trouble. I paged Dr Westlund, but he’s not here yet.’
At the far end of the reception hall, a woman in a short coat and black leather boots was arguing with the duty nurse. She slammed her palm on the counter, hissed through her teeth. Tall, taffy-blonde hair, the mouth a red slash.
Erin froze. Could it be? No. She hesitated in the shadows, her heart bumping her ribs.
‘I want to see my daughter. Cassie Gray. Where is she?’
Cassie. And this was the girl’s mother. Not the warm, suburban matron Erin was hoping for.
The duty nurse seemed to have the situation under control, but where was Niels? They had a protocol for cases like this. But he wasn’t here, and this couldn’t wait.
Erin straightened her shoulders and approached the desk. ‘I’m Dr Cartwright. Your daughter is out of danger, but she’s sleeping now. If you could perhaps keep your voice down…’
Spiky earrings, cheap perfume, that hard red mouth. The woman towered over her like a Valkyrie. ‘What are you looking at, Tinkerbell?’
Tinkerbell. Was it her size or the British accent that set the woman off?
A retort sprang to mind, but Erin stifled the urge. She was used to dealing with angry parents. ‘I’m sure this is all very upsetting, but if you’ll just try to stay calm—’
‘Calm? I get a call from some punk in the middle of the night that my daughter’s in this nuthouse, and you want me to stay calm? Screw you.’ She shoved Erin hard on the shoulder and pushed past.
Pain shot down Erin’s arm and she gasped. Before she could react, the woman had clattered halfway down the hall in those ridiculous boots. If someone didn’t stop her, she’d wake the entire clinic.
But there was Niels at last, striding through the vaulted atrium, jaunty and alert at six in the morning. His blue Oxford shirt and tan chinos were perfectly pressed, the parting in his hair razor-straight. Was that where he’d been, standing in front of a mirror combing his hair?
As he approached Cassie’s mother, his broad face was wreathed in the appropriate degree of concern. ‘I’m Dr Westlund.’ He extended his hand. ‘Please be assured your daughter is getting the very best care.’
The woman jerked back before he could touch her. ‘If you think I’m going to let you people mess with her head, you’ve got another thing coming. I want to see her.’
‘Let’s wait until she’s awake, shall we?’ Niels flicked a piece of lint from the sleeve of his white coat. ‘If it were up to me, Mrs Gray, I’d let you have a quick peek in her room, just to ease your mind. But I don’t make the rules.’
‘I have a right to see
