Brent pointed to a restaurant sign. “Burger after this?”
“We just ate a pile of breakfast,” Isabelle said.
“I’m a growing boy,” Brent said with a laugh.
Taylor liked many things about him, and one was how well he acclimated to any situation. He was so good-natured, and she needed people like that around her. She’d really lucked out.
Taylor saw the sign almost too late and checked her mirror to make sure no one was on her tail before hitting the brakes, making the turn at an unsafe speed. The tires squawked as she cranked the steering wheel, and she let out a laugh, enjoying the thrill as she entered the right lane on the side street heading toward the hospital.
“What the hell, Tay?” Isabelle asked from the backseat.
“I told you to wear a seatbelt, didn’t I?” Taylor asked, laughing.
Brent was grinning at her too. “I swear I didn’t teach her to drive like that.”
Taylor couldn’t see the hospital yet, but as the road went from paved to gravel, she did see dust being kicked up ahead of them. Trees hugged the narrow roadway, increasingly overgrown as she came closer to the hospital. An old wooden sign was hammered into the edge of the road as the trees opened up. Gilden Psychiatric Care was painted on it, with the established date below. 1931, the same year Red Creek was named. Taylor wondered if it was a coincidence.
The building was beautiful. It looked far more eclectic and expensive than most structures in the area, and for a building under a hundred years old, it seemed much older. The center of the hospital had a spire sticking into the air, and rounded bay windows stuck out along the second floor. Taylor drove slowly toward it, seeing the parking lot nearly empty.
“Spooky,” Brent said as he leaned forward, taking it all in.
“I wouldn’t say spooky. It’s just a hospital.” Taylor wasn’t sure she believed her own words. She felt an itch inside her stomach, one that she knew couldn’t be scratched. Someone was watching them arrive from an upstairs window. She was wearing a white uniform, and Taylor wondered if it was a nurse. Did they still wear those out-of-date outfits? Every time Taylor thought of a nurse nowadays, they were wearing scrubs with cartoon cats on them, and colorful shoes that didn’t match.
Things might be run differently out here in Gilden. Driving up to the hospital, Taylor felt like she was in a place time forgot. The figure in white turned, easing away from the window.
“He’s right, Taylor. This place is spooky.” Isabelle was already opening the rear door and sliding out of the car just as the car parked.
Taylor turned the engine off, grabbed her purse and notepad, and stepped onto the gravel parking lot. The stone building was dark gray; each of the five large bay windows had a peak above it on the second floor, giving it a majestic look. Brent took the lead, and soon they were on the grounds, met by a wide sidewalk lined with flower pots with already-bloomed annuals.
They must have grown them in a greenhouse, because it was too early for them otherwise. Taylor wished she could admire them more, but she was distracted by the looming meeting, and that was only if they permitted her to speak to the kid. She hoped her plan worked out.
The giant oak trees were bereft of leaves, but Taylor felt the urge to stare at the stately old trees, sporadically placed around the grounds.
“Come on, T,” Brent said, and Taylor glanced up to see Isabelle and Brent close to the hospital’s entrance. A breeze blew by, sending a shiver through her. She wished she’d worn a sweater instead of her blouse, but she’d wanted to portray a professional atmosphere, and to seem older than she was.
The entrance was a set of extra-tall double wooden doors, set between two pillars, and Brent arrived first. “Do I knock?” he asked. There was a sign above the door with the hospital name, but nothing about visiting hours.
“I don’t know. Go for it,” Taylor said, but they didn’t have to. The left door opened outward, and an older man wearing a tweed jacket stepped out.
“Can I help you?” he asked with a deep voice. His eyebrows were thick and gray, seemingly acting independent of each other. His thin hair was swept over the top of his head in a vain attempt at a comb-over.
Isabelle gently pushed Taylor forward. “Trevor Hayes. I’m here to talk to Trevor Hayes,” she said, trying not to stutter. The whole weekend was making her nervous, and she struggled to contain this negative energy now.
The man tilted his head to the side, gauging her. “And what do you want to speak with Mr. Hayes regarding?”
Taylor hadn’t been expecting that question, so she diverted. “I’m his cousin. My aunt was visiting a while ago, and I couldn’t believe that little Trev ended up in a place like this.” The man’s eyes went wide, and she tried to backpedal, clearing her throat. “Not that this hospital isn’t lovely.”
“I’m sure. We were under the impression that Mrs. Hayes no longer wanted anything to do with her son,” the man said.
Taylor rolled with it. “She’s had a hard time, and that’s why I’m here. I told my family that I’d come to see him and report my findings. He needs to see familiar faces, don’t you agree?” Taylor asked, knowing full well that neither her face nor the other two faces would be familiar to the boy.
“Come in… what did you say your name was?” he asked, holding the door open.
“Clare. Clare Bothwell.” The name came from a character in one of her dad’s least famous books. Taylor hoped the man didn’t know it. He smiled tightly and motioned her inside.
“I’m Doctor Herman Bryenton. Your cousin is a
