Taylor pulled her phone out, and when Doctor Herman stopped at the other end of the great room, ready to enter the hallway, she held a finger up in the air. She dialed the last number she’d called.
She was ready to tell him something about the weather at Bellton, complaining about the rain and how much it sucked that she was face-down in books for her assignment. She got his voicemail again. Now she was beginning to worry. She’d try her mom when they were done here.
“Dad, it’s me. Just wanted to say hi, and to check how your Saturday is shaping up. Call me back. Love you.” She hung up and shoved the phone in her bag, turning the ringer off. She didn’t want anything to spook Trevor when she was talking with him. Brent and Isabelle were with the doctor as he unlocked another door, and Taylor jogged to catch up.
“He’s in the third room on the end.” Doctor Bryenton let them in, and Taylor smelled chemicals: the kind she remembered from spending time in the hospital while her grandfather was dying. That was where she’d first seen the shadow figure too, another coincidental occurrence.
“Can I speak to him alone?” Taylor asked. Brent and Isabelle had already agreed it should be her. If the kid was scared and out of it, she’d be the best bet to get real information from him. The house he’d freaked out inside was her father’s childhood home. He’d have a chance of relating to her.
“Sure. He doesn’t talk much, but he might appreciate someone communicating with him. A familiar cousin, especially.” Doctor Herman lifted one of his thick eyebrows, and it seemed like he was going to add something to his statement. Instead, he sealed his lips and moved through the hall, his large keychain clinking as he found the right key, and soon the door was opened. “We have to lock them from the inside, for their own protection, of course. And would you mind leaving your bag out here? Hospital policy.”
Taylor passed the bag over to Isabelle. “No problem.”
“I’ll bring your friends to the nurses’ station for a coffee. How does that sound?” Doctor Herman asked, now sporting a friendly smile. Where had the pleasantry come from? He started forward and stopped, leaning in to Taylor’s ear. “Be careful. Make sure the lights stay on.”
She wasn’t sure what to say to that, but she agreed as he turned and walked away.
“I think we have croissants today. You two like croissants?” Doctor Herman asked, and Taylor saw Brent nod. Where did he put all that food? “Clare!” the doctor called through the hall, where a hefty man in a white uniform was approaching. “If you have any trouble, ask for Dale here. He’ll be standing outside the room.”
Taylor rested her hand on the room’s door handle. It was a commercial lever, the kind you saw on office storerooms, not bedroom doors, and it had a thick observation window so the staff could look in on Trevor. She pressed the handle and it depressed, twisting to the side. She pulled the door open and was nearly blinded by the light.
She stepped in, able to see the teenage boy on the far side of the room, which was larger than she’d expected. It took a second, but her eyes acclimated slightly to the brightness, and she now saw the source of the light. Long LED strips ran horizontally along the walls, angled toward the center of the room, and more shone up and out from the baseboards. The effect was a shadow-free room. A bed sat on the floor, no legs on the frame. Otherwise, there was no furniture to speak of. The walls were white, the floor white tile.
“Trevor?” Taylor asked, more as a formality than curiosity. This was obviously Trevor Hayes, the boy scared of shadows.
He didn’t answer, and she advanced closer, glancing at the floor to see an absence of her shadow. It was an interesting trick, and she was glad the hospital had at least accommodated his fears instead of ignoring them and pumping him full of drugs. Still, he had a muddled look to his young face. His eyes were puffy, his cheeks sallow.
“Trevor Hayes, my name is Taylor Alenn. I want to talk to you about something.” She got closer and crouched, so she was eye-level with him beside the bed. He was on the bed, his upper half leaning against the wall, legs ramrod straight.
He met her gaze, and she thought there might have been a hint of recognition at her name. Maybe he’d heard the last name of the people that used to live in the house he and his mom were renting. The neighbor lady did like to talk. Taylor knew that from experience.
“Do you mind if I have a seat?” she asked, and he gave her a miniscule nod, enough for her to catch his approval. She smiled at him and hoped she could bring a small amount of peace to the young man. He was almost cute, his hair curly and brown, his eyes bright and hazel. Maybe Taylor could help him with what he’d seen or been through. She just needed to find out what that was, exactly.
“How long have you been here?” she asked, knowing the answer was around two years. That was a long time for a boy to be in a place like this. If he wasn’t on the verge of insanity before, sitting here under this bright light for two years would push anyone over the edge.
Again, he didn’t answer.
“The doctor told me it’s been two years or so already. I spoke with Edith about you yesterday.” Now the boy’s eyes went wide. She was getting close. “She really liked having you as a neighbor. She
