Instead of replying, Lucas began bouncing his shoe on the floor.
Clay eyed the rhythmic motion for a few beats before arching a brow at Dr. Eddington. He remembered how emotional she’d gotten when Lucas had first identified the picture. He thought that the doctor’s heart believed Lucas’s story, while her head forced logic and reason to take its place.
“You don’t know that for sure, which is why I want to take Lucas back to the cabin.”
The little grooves above the doctor’s nose deepened. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” She reached for a manila folder to the left of her keyboard and handed the file to Clay. “Take a look.”
Clay flipped the folder open to reveal a report dated back several years.
…when a second patient challenged the existence of the girl in group therapy, the patient exhibited signs of anger and aggression by throwing a chair and lunging at the patient, screaming, “she’s real!” repeatedly. Symptoms are consistent with a cognitive break, likely precipitated by trauma brought on by the patient’s real world and fantasy worlds colliding.
In one study of patients suffering from unspecified delusion disorders, pointing out the simultaneous existence of two opposing, mutually exclusive realities caused a similar reaction in multiple cases. The researchers concluded that the resulting mental confusion manifested itself as rage, causing the test subjects to lash out at the source of his pain.
Lucas’s outburst can likely be attributed to the same reasoning.
Clay frowned at the page. As much as he hated to admit it, the doctor’s conclusions made sense.
50 mg of Haldol was administered IM to calm the patient following the outburst, and two orderlies returned him to his room. Patient reported no lingering side effects once the sedative wore off and appeared to return to his usual, non-aggressive demeanor by the next day.
As Clay continued to read, Dr. Eddington started speaking again. “That was one of the only times that Lucas has ever demonstrated violent behavior of any sort or attempted to physically hurt another patient.”
But Clay barely registered the doctor’s warning. The line stared back at him, kickstarting his hope all over again. His heart slammed against his ribs, and he squeezed his eyes shut, ordering himself to slow down and breathe.
“Agent Lockwood? Are you feeling okay?”
Clay held up a single finger, filled his lungs with air, and opened his eyes.
Please don’t let me have imagined it.
The folder balanced on his lap trembled as he forced himself to read the line again. By the time he finished, his hands shook so hard that the file almost slipped to the floor. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck, and the goose bumps erupting on his skin were triggered by excitement, not chills.
Clay wanted to jump up to his feet, toss his cowboy hat into the air, and whoop for joy. Instead, he called on years of training to leash his emotions and slapped the folder onto the desk, loud enough that Lucas froze and the doctor flinched.
“Sorry.” He drew in a long, ragged breath. “We can go the paperwork route if you want, but I’d really prefer you to work with me on this. Lucas is the sole witness to a crime, and at this point, he could be the only person to help me find Caraleigh.”
The doctor regarded him over folded hands with an expression of concern. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’m not following.”
Clay opened the folder to the last page. “In this report, there’s a line that makes it one-hundred-percent clear to me that Lucas’s girl and my sister are the same person.”
A soft gasp came from Lucas’s direction, but Clay’s gaze never wavered from the report. He dragged a shaky finger down the page until he found the line in question and read aloud. “The patient’s doubt of Lucas’s account of his imaginary friend appeared to be the initial precipitating factor, but the aggressive behavior didn’t begin until a toy was taken from him, a stuffed pink pig wearing a top hat.”
When Clay glanced up, his vision was blurred, but he didn’t care. “Dr. Eddington, my sister loved pigs. The last time I saw Caraleigh at the fair before she vanished, she was clutching the prize I’d won at the ring toss to her chest. A stuffed pink pig in a top hat.”
8
Bethany’s tummy ached all the time now. A hollow pain, like someone had carved her insides out and left an empty space behind.
She rolled onto her back in the hard bed with the scratchy blanket, but that didn’t help, either. Nothing did.
At home, Bethany would have already jumped out of bed and skipped to the kitchen, where her mama would have breakfast waiting. On school mornings, she usually ate Frosted Flakes or Cheerios, but on the weekends Mama fixed pancakes or French toast and hot chocolate with whipped cream. The whole house would smell like yummy syrup, and they got to take their plates to the couch and eat while watching the Disney channel.
Trapped here in this dark room, there was no reason to get out of bed. Especially since she was tired all the time now.
Where are you, Mama? I’m scared and hungry. Please come find me soon.
Bethany’s throat burned, but no tears came.
Another knifelike pain stabbed at her tummy. She whimpered and clutched her stomach. She was about to roll onto her other side and curl into a ball when a floorboard outside the door creaked.
Bethany froze.
Go away. Please, go away. I’ll be good from now on, I promise.
But this prayer didn’t work any better than the rest because the door squeaked as it swung open.
Staying still was so hard. Bethany wanted to jump up and run. Hide somewhere. But that was stupid since there was nowhere to go.
Besides, Mama had told her what to do if something like this happened.
“Sometimes, playing possum can save your life, but you have to understand a little about people’s
