“Why did you say that to Dr. Cerny?” Heath asked.
It was almost dinnertime, and if I was serious about finding Glenys, I probably should’ve been keeping an eye out for Luca. But the episode in Cerny’s office had thrown me off. I was more than a little high and way past done with this place. All I wanted to do was go home.
Dully, I scanned the room:
In the frame of the oil painting above the fireplace.
In that floor lamp in the corner of the sitting area.
Somewhere along the mirror above the dresser.
In the fan above the bed.
Behind me, Heath cleared his throat. “Did I really say that ‘I have no pity’ thing?” He was speaking carefully, like he was picking his way over broken glass.
Should I tell him about the other cameras in our room? Would it convince him that we had to leave? I didn’t know anything anymore. This place was turning me upside down.
“No, you didn’t say that.” I scrubbed at my eyes. “It was just something I saw on some old furniture in the barn, a phrase scratched on a desk.”
I straightened in surprise. “What?”
“You can’t do that!” he yelled. “You’re messing with my treatment. Don’t you understand?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“You don’t like Cerny, it’s obvious. But that doesn’t give you the right to lie to him about me.”
“I’m sorry, okay? It’s just . . . I feel really weird. Not myself. I’m pretty sure he put something in that juice he gave me.”
He made an exasperated sound. “Oh, come on. You wanted to fuck with him, and you saw your chance. Don’t pass the blame.”
“I’m not!” I shouted. Then, aware again of the cameras, I lowered my voice. “Okay, you don’t have to believe me. But you have to admit nothing here makes sense. Why aren’t we allowed to talk to anyone? Why does Dr. Cerny act so goddamn weird all the time . . .” Why does he have a state investigator’s card in his desk and a closetful of women’s clothing? Why is the yard full of dead birds?
And the cook seems to be trying to send me a message every time I run into him . . .
Heath shook his head. “You can’t just make stuff up. This is a serious process.”
“So get him to prescribe you some sleeping pills and let’s go home. There’s nothing that says you have to offer him your soul.”
“I know how you feel about therapists. I know this is hard for you . . .”
“This is not hard for me,” I said evenly. “I’m not afraid of Dr. Cerny. I know what the Internet says, that he’s a qualified doctor and everybody thinks he’s a miracle worker. It’s just . . .” I trailed off. “I’m not comfortable talking to him about your nightmares. You can talk to him, but I can’t. I don’t trust him.”
“You’re saying you don’t trust me.”
“No. Yes. Yes, I do.”
“You’re pissed that you told me about your past. You regret it.”
“Stop it, Heath. Don’t turn this around on me.”
“You’re so full of bullshit,” he spat. “You only told me about the ranch, about Omega and Chantal, because you were scared to hear more about my past. To really go there with me, all the way to the darkest part. And now you’re acting weird and distant and cold. You can’t stand it, the reality of actually being close to me.”
My face flushed. “No.”
But he’d hit on something. Being here at Baskens had changed us, set us on what felt like an irreversible course. I couldn’t pretend like our pasts didn’t exist, but I didn’t want to go forward and deal with all of it, either. I was stuck, here in this twisted house.
He fixed me with a hard look. “So you just happened to see that phrase, I have no pity, carved on a piece of furniture?”
“It was on this old school desk I found in the barn. I don’t understand why it bothers you so much. Am I missing something here?”
A knock sounded on the door, and I jumped like someone had set off a bomb. I went for the door, but Heath caught my arm.
“Hold on.” He kept a tight grip on me. “It’s just dinner. He can wait.” He folded me into a hug. “You scared me, Daph. I didn’t understand what you told Cerny or why you hadn’t ever said anything about it before. It made me feel . . . it made me worry I might never get to the bottom of whatever is going on with me.”
I pressed my face against his shoulder, guilt flooding me. “It was shitty of me. I’m sorry.”
“I just need to feel you for a second.”
He tightened his arms around me, but all I could think was that I was missing my chance to see Glenys answer Luca’s knock on her door. If she answered it at all. When Heath finally let go, I opened the door. Our dinner tray was the only one in the hall.
“Goddammit,” I said under my breath.
“What?” Heath said behind me. I picked up the tray and scooted around him.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
In the room, I lifted the cover on my plate to find fragrant shrimp and quinoa and slender asparagus. Heath moved to fill my glass with wine, but I put my hand over it to stop him. I couldn’t afford to mix alcohol with whatever I’d ingested, especially if I intended to keep looking for Glenys tonight. Heath poured himself a healthy serving, then forked violently into a slice of coconut cake. I watched him with raised eyebrows.
“Dessert for dinner?”
“Long day,” he grumbled through a mouthful.
I went at my shrimp, feeling belligerent. “So you really think Glenys is okay?”
“I don’t see any reason to think otherwise.”
“If I could just call her or text her or something . . .” I shut my mouth abruptly. A kernel of an idea had just broken open in my mind. A way to get word to somebody that didn’t necessitate Wi-Fi or cell networks. I tucked the idea away for the time being. I’d need to wait until I was alone. “I just hope she’s okay, that’s all.”
“Do you have any reason to think she wouldn’t be?”
“No. Not specifically. She’s been having a hard time about some things in her life.”
“Like what?”
“She lost her son.”
“Lost him?”
“He died.”
Heath absorbed this. Dropped his napkin. He hadn’t eaten any more than a few bites of the cake. “How did it happen?” His voice was calm but he was watching me intently.
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”
“Weren’t you curious?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Not necessarily.”
He met my gaze. “Everybody’s curious about death—how it happens, what it feels like.”
“I guess.”
“Doesn’t a small part of you wish you could’ve been there at the bottom of the cliff at the moment Chantal died? At the exact moment her spirit left her body?”
“Are you serious?” I stared at him.
“I’m just being honest, Daphne. It doesn’t make you a bad person to admit you have a touch of darkness inside you. We’re all just hanging out together, here in the morally ambiguous quagmire. You don’t need to be afraid of the darkness in yourself. Or in me. We’re in this together, right?”
“Right,” I said. Because that was what I always said. But this time I didn’t feel it. In fact, I felt more alone than ever right now. Our favorite phrase, always us—what did it actually mean? Would we really always be us? Always the same? Always together?
We finished our meal in silence. I left the tray outside our door. The hallway was deserted. No people, no trays, even, but the pocket door leading to Dr. Cerny’s suite was half-opened. I leaned out, peering into the darkness beyond. I couldn’t see a thing. It would only take a few seconds to run up the small stairs to the attic and check on Glenys on the monitors.
“Come to bed.” In the open doorway, Heath’s hand settled on my shoulder. The other one snaked under my sweatshirt and around my bare waist. I tensed. When I turned, his face was tilted toward me, so close that I could smell the wine on his breath.
“What about if something happened to her on the mountain?” I said. “What if she’s lost? Or hurt?”
“Cerny’s a doctor. He’s not gunning for a lawsuit, I promise you that.”
I thought of Jessica Kyung’s card. Her clipped voice on the phone. I would encourage you to go to our site.
“I’m sure your friend is fine.” His fingers traced the outline of my ribs. “Come to bed. We don’t have to do anything. I’ll give you a back rub.”
I let him lead me back into the room. He lifted my sweatshirt over my head, then I stretched out on the comforter. He lay down beside me, molding his body to mine. He planted one kiss on my temple, but nothing more, then started kneading my knotted shoulders. I closed my eyes.
I could feel my tension lifting, feel myself drifting. When I looked through the windows, the light outside had gone dusky purple, and Heath’s hand had slowed to a tickle that traveled the curve of my neck. I was so blissed out by the pill, the food, and his expert touch, I knew I wasn’t going to get up. I closed my eyes again, telling my body to wake up at ten.
My internal clock must’ve been in good working order, because I woke at 9:58. I scrubbed away the grit in my eyes, letting them get adjusted to the dark. Only two minutes until the cameras went down. Perfect. I slipped out from under Heath’s arm and snagged a small pad and pen from my purse.
Faint light from downstairs illuminated the hallway. Hopefully, Mr. Cellphone was still up, texting merrily away while his clueless wife slept. I moved closer to the stairs, flipped open the pad of paper, and jotted the message I’d formulated hours earlier.
Mr. McAdam,
I think one of the other patients, Glenys Sieffert, may have gone missing. I realize this may sound strange, but last night, I believe she was on the verge of hurting herself—maybe even jumping out her bedroom window. Now I can’t find her anywhere. I think she may be in trouble. I know you have a phone, I’ve seen it on the monitors (I apologize for the invasion of your privacy). Will you please call 911—ask the police to please come up here and make sure she’s okay? I swear I won’t mention who made the call.
Thank you,
Daphne Amos
I ripped the note out of the pad, carefully folded it, and headed to the McAdams’ door. I slid the note under the door, then tiptoed to Glenys’s door. I paused, straining my ears, but there was nothing—no sounds, no light—so I returned to our room. Back in bed, I burrowed against Heath but couldn’t settle my scattershot pulse.
I kept seeing Glenys, the way she looked the other night on the monitor. Poised on her window ledge, her nightgown rippling in the breeze, her face an etching of grief and despair.
Heath was right, as it turned out. I did wonder if Chantal’s face looked the same the moment before she had died.