Join the club. ‘Who’s come in?’
‘A fifteen-year-old honours student. Swallowed half a bottle of sleeping pills – her second suicide attempt in the past six months. The other girl’s seventeen, with a record of histrionic behaviour and a failed suicide attempt. She was discharged from Hillcrest a couple of months ago, not much improved, apparently. Her parents are hoping we’ll offer her a more tailored treatment programme.’
Erin shook her head. ‘Hillcrest?’
‘A psych hospital in Massachusetts. It used to be called Danfield. But it was closed down by the state about ten years ago and revamped.
‘Danfield?’ Erin gripped the chair to keep her hands from shaking.
‘Yep. Lots of bad stuff going on behind closed doors. Things are better now, but they don’t have the services we offer here.’ He pushed aside a stack of papers on his desk. ‘The fifteen-year-old’s from Chesterton. You’d be a good fit for her. The family situation’s a bit delicate. Wealthy parents, pillars of the community. They want this kept quiet. Could be the girl’s bipolar, but I think there’s a lot more going on there. We’ll need to do a complete history and meet with the family. The whole works.’ He leaned back and gulped the coffee. ‘What’s happening with Greenlake? Are you ready to wrap things up?’
Erin drained her cup. ‘I’m giving the patient a break for a few days.’ She walked to the window. A solitary clump of purple crocus had pushed through the frost-heaved soil. Soon the grounds would be awash with colour. Primroses, daffodils, tulips. Spring couldn’t come soon enough. Though the room was warm, she shivered. Her head felt feverish and her nerves jumpy from the caffeine. ‘I’ll look in on the Chesterton girl before lunch. What’s her name?’
‘Meghan.’
She returned to the chair and perched on the arm. ‘I’m supposed to be on call this weekend, but something’s come up. A personal errand. Would it be all right to switch with someone? Andrea, perhaps?’
He checked the schedule on his computer. ‘Andrea’s not available. But Greta’s free. I’ll see if she can switch with you.’
Erin inwardly groaned. An emergency was unlikely, but she hated the idea of Greta going anywhere near her patients. Having convinced Tim’s caseworker, a woman named Lydia Belmont, to let her tag along on the home study to Stern’s house, she couldn’t back out now. She only hoped the trip to Vermont would be worth it.
*
After lunch, Erin drove across the city to the Riverside Mall. For weeks she’d been carrying around a list of things she needed for the flat. With two new patients, today might be the last break she’d have in her schedule for some time.
She pulled into the car park to find it nearly full. She disliked crowds and her resolve faltered. As she scanned the signs for the nearest exit, a flash of colour attracted her attention. A group of schoolgirls lounged in the weak sun by the entrance to the mall, their bright puffy jackets unzipped to reveal tight jeans and cropped tees. Cheap earrings caught the light. Holding their cigarettes in exaggerated poses, they exhaled great plumes of smoke into the air. A slender girl with short spiky hair tinted pink at the ends threw back her head and laughed. Cassie.
Erin gripped the wheel. Should she wave or call her over? Better not. It would only embarrass the girl in front of her friends.
As if sensing her presence, Cassie turned her head and caught sight of Erin through the windscreen. She appraised her coolly before punching the girl next to her playfully on the arm. With the nonchalance of a thirties screen siren, she took a drag on her cigarette and tilted her chin to release a stream of smoke.
Did Cassie recognise her? Or had Erin been tossed on the rubbish heap of bad memories, best forgotten?
17
Matlock, Vermont
March, Present Day
‘Do you think that’s it?’ Erin pointed to a lone white farmhouse, situated on a gentle rise and wreathed in morning mist. As instructed, they’d driven four miles east of the tiny hamlet of Matlock, through long stretches of forest and farmland, in the direction of Stern’s home.
‘It must be.’ Lydia Belmont, Tim’s caseworker, peered through the windscreen at the house. ‘We haven’t seen anything else that fits the description.’ They were a few minutes early and she pulled the car to the side of the road.
Erin cracked the window. The smell of decaying leaves and damp earth filled the car.
‘Pretty countryside,’ Lydia said. ‘Though it wouldn’t be my first choice to retire up here. Too cold in winter for my old bones.’
Forest and farmland spread to the horizon. In the distance, plum-coloured mountains poked through the mist. A picture of bucolic charm, or it would be, once spring showed its face. But Erin shuddered to think what it was like here in the dead of winter, famous for its paralysing ice storms and the blizzards that cut off lonely houses like this one for days.
She slid her glasses on her nose and coiled her hair into a knot. The glasses were a silly affectation, but they gave her a confidence she didn’t feel. The prospect of meeting Tim’s father had set her nerves on edge. ‘Thanks for letting me come along,’ Erin said. ‘I realise it’s a bit unusual.’
Lydia pulled up to the house and switched off the engine. ‘It’s an unusual case.’
*
The front door swung open, and a man stepped out. In his pressed khaki trousers and moss-green jumper over a white-collared shirt, he could have strolled out of a menswear catalogue.
‘Good morning, ladies.’ Belying his age, he bounded down the steps to greet them, exuberant as a Labrador. ‘I hope you didn’t have trouble finding the place.’ Behind the horn-rimmed glasses, his eyes, wreathed in lines, were a lively blue. ‘Most people make a wrong turn on Hunter’s Creek Road and get lost in the forest. One of you must have excellent navigational skills.’ He winked. ‘It’s a
