The police wouldn’t let me see William, but they didn’t kick me out of their waiting room after I gave a statement about what had happened, so I stayed. I sat in a faded chair, my legs crossed, and tried not to lose my mind.

What were they asking him? I half-expected to see Eric Andrews from Homeland Security waltz in. I imagined him hauling William off to some undisclosed location for interrogation.

I chewed on my fingernails and tapped my foot. The minutes ticked by, one by one. It felt as if time had ceased to have meaning, the seconds stretching out in unbearable agony.

Eventually, Blake emerged. He was no longer handcuffed, although his clothes were rumpled, and his black eye had darkened. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw me, but a second later, his expression smoothed over. He straightened his jacket and walked out without saying a word.

I breathed out a sigh. If they’d let Blake go, maybe William wouldn’t be far behind.

My relief was short-lived. Another hour went by, and still nothing. The sick feeling in my stomach grew. I texted Jessica to tell her what had happened. Thankfully, she didn’t press me for details, just asked if I needed her to go see to Edgar. I thanked her.

Finally, an officer came out—the same one who’d arrested William at Woodward.

The look on his face made my heart sink with dread. It was not the look of someone bringing good news.

“Are you Ivy Nichols?” he asked.

I stood. “Yes. Where’s William?”

“He’s being transferred to a different facility,” he said.

“What facility? Why? Is he under arrest?”

“No,” he said. “But we determined he needed to be detained for evaluation.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“He’s been sent to Northwest Hospital,” he said. “He’s being put on a seventy-two-hour hold so doctors can evaluate his mental state. We need them to determine if he’s a danger.”

“Danger?” I asked. “William’s not dangerous.”

“His answers to our questions indicate he is,” he said. “And based on some of his responses, we have reason to believe he’s not mentally stable. I’m sorry, but this is for his protection as well as yours.”

“William is not crazy,” I said. God, what had he told them? “And he’s not dangerous.”.”

“Miss, I’m sorry, but this isn’t something we take lightly,” he said.

“Is he gone already?”

“He is. But he asked me to give you a message.” He held out a folded piece of paper.

I took it, but decided to wait to read it until I was alone. “Will I be allowed to see him?”

“Eventually, yes,” he said. “But the doctors there will need to conduct their evaluation first. If you want my advice, go home. Get some rest. He’s safe where he is.”

Safe? William was not safe. Not locked up in a mental hospital against his will.

The officer left, and I went back to my car. My hands trembled as I opened the note William had written.

Ivy,

Please don’t stay at home tonight. Go to my place, or stay with Jessica and Peter for a few days. Don’t worry about me. I explained everything to the police. It will be fine.

William

I stared at the neat handwriting. Explained everything? I wanted to throw up all over again. Had he really told them everything? About me and his visions? About being sent to save me? Oh god, no wonder they’d locked him up. His story did sound crazy, especially from the outside. If he hadn’t actually known so many things about me—if his paintings hadn’t been so true—I wouldn’t have believed him. I would have thought he was crazy, too.

I drove over to Northwest Hospital, but the officer had been right. They wouldn’t let me see him until at least tomorrow. I tried everything I could think of, short of bribery or getting down on my knees and begging. They wouldn’t let me past the front desk.

It was all I could do to keep myself from crying as I walked back to my car in defeat. The enormity of it all threatened to crush me. I was terrified for William. I didn’t know what they would do to him. Glancing behind me at the imposing hospital, I was tempted to camp outside in my car. I wanted to stay close to him, even if there were walls and a maddening group of hospital staff keeping us apart.

But I knew that more than anything, he wanted me to be safe. I didn’t know if he had access to his phone, but I texted him, just in case, letting him know I’d stay at Jessica and Peter’s tonight. If I could alleviate any of his worry and make his night easier, it was the least I could do.

Jessica and Peter were both at my house when I got there. They were quietly sympathetic, helping me get a few things ready for Edgar while I packed a bag for myself.

Edgar seemed to sense my distress. After we got to Jessica and Peter’s, he stayed close to me, curling up with his head on my lap. I was about to tell him to get off Jessica’s couch, but she stopped me.

“He’s fine. You’ve had a rough day.” She handed me a mug of steaming tea and sat down. Peter sat in a chair next to the couch. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Blake showed up at the career expo,” I said. “He wanted to talk to me, which didn’t make William happy. I tried to leave, but Blake grabbed my arm. He wouldn’t let go.”

“Oh hell no,” Jessica said.

“Then William hit him.”

“Good.” She glanced at Peter as if she expected him to disagree, but he nodded.

I sighed. “That turned into a fight. Campus security broke it up and took them outside. They called the police and both of them got handcuffed and taken away.”

“So are they being held?” she asked.

“No, they let Blake go.”

“But not William? Why would they put him in jail and not Blake? Because he threw the first punch?”

“He’s not in jail,” I said. “They sent him to a mental hospital for evaluation.”

“What, now?” Jessica asked. “What the hell did William do?”

I sighed and swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears. “There’s something you need to know about William.”

I told them everything. Why he had been following me. His belief that he’d been sent to save me. The things he knew. His paintings. The lack of knowledge of his past, and his insistence that he didn’t have one. Peter listened without comment, but I could tell by the strain in Jessica’s expression that she was having a hard time holding back.

“You have rendered me speechless. And I can’t remember the last time that happened.” She glanced at Peter. “Don’t comment on that.”

Peter held up his hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

“His note said he told the police everything,” I said. “Judging by the fact that he’s being held in a psychiatric facility, I guess he meant everything.”

Jessica looked down at her tea. “Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but… what you just described is more than a little bit crazy.”

“People can’t be involuntarily committed without reason,” Peter said. “The authorities have to believe the person is in danger of causing harm to themselves or others. That means they had reason to believe he’s mentally unstable, as well as dangerous.”

“He told Blake he’d kill him if he came near me again,” I said. “But is that enough to have him held like this? People say things when they’re angry. And William clearly had the upper hand in that fight, but he didn’t really hurt Blake. Aside from a black eye. But there was no sign he was going to do any permanent damage.”

“But we don’t know what he told the police,” Peter said.

“Exactly,” Jessica said. “I’m not saying he deserves to be held against his will. But, you don’t actually believe his story, do you?”

“The paintings are real, Jess,” I said. “I can’t explain it, but he knew me inside and out before we ever met.”

Jessica and Peter shared a look. “Or, he found out things about you,” she said.

“No, he couldn’t have.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “We already know he was stalking you. And didn’t you say he looked into Blake’s life? How did he do that?”

I glanced away. “He followed him. And hacked into his computer.”

“So, he couldn’t have done that to you?” she asked. “He could have seen the photos on your computer and painted some of them.”

“That doesn’t explain all of them,” I said. “Some were things I don’t have photos of.”

“You’d be surprised how much information someone can find if they dig long enough,” Peter said. “He could have started with your computer files and kept following the trails back in time. Old addresses, places you’ve been.”

“You said he painted a picture of the tree in the backyard of your childhood home,” Jessica said. “What if he found out where you used to live and went there? He could have seen it. Taken pictures. That’s how he painted things from your past.”

“But why would he do that?” I asked.

“Ten million dollars is a lot of money,” Jessica said.

“William is not after my money.”

“And Blake is?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “At least that makes a little bit of sense. If William is right about Blake’s gambling debt, he could very well be after my inheritance. It explains the break-ins, and why he’s been so persistent.”

“But you have to take William’s word for everything,” Jessica said. “Maybe he’s just trying to pin the blame on Blake for what he’s doing.”

Edgar lifted his head and snorted. I rubbed behind his ears and he settled down again.

“I just can’t believe that William has been lying to me,” I said. “He never lies. Every time I ask him a question, he gives me the truth, no matter what it is. I asked him if he’d been following me, and he admitted it. He never tries to hide anything.”

“Or he’s a very good liar,” Jessica said, her voice soft.

I shook my head and looked down.

“Honey, I’m sorry. I like William. I loved seeing you happy. But I think there are really just two possibilities here. Either he’s a very talented con-artist who’s been playing you from the start. Or he’s not mentally stable and needs medical help.”

Peter gave me a sympathetic smile and nodded.

Tears burned my eyes. I sniffed and swallowed, trying to keep them from spilling. I didn’t want to believe that William had been lying to me. I didn’t want to believe he was crazy, either.

But the truth was, I’d allowed myself to overlook the impossibility of his story for one simple reason: I liked him. From the first time we’d met, I’d been taken with him. Not just the mystery of who he was, although that had been enticing in the beginning. He drew me in. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel alone.

Had I allowed my attraction to him to overshadow my good judgment? Was I willing to ignore the warning signs because I didn’t want to see the truth?

I honestly didn’t know.

And the worst part was, I’d fallen for him. This went well beyond attraction, physical or otherwise. I was in love with him. And now I was faced with the distinct possibility that I’d either fallen for a con-artist, or someone who was legitimately crazy.

I wished I could see him. Things always made sense when I was with him—even the things that didn’t. His calming presence made the impossible parts seem like trivial details. Things I could live with if it meant I could be with him.

But now I had to face reality. Who was William Cole? How had he painted these scenes from my life? And why? I didn’t know if Jessica was right and there were only two explanations. I desperately wanted to believe there was a third—a reason that didn’t involve William being a criminal out to steal my inheritance, and leave me heartbroken in the process, or being so mentally unstable he needed to be in that psychiatric hospital.

“Listen, honey, we’re here for you,” Jessica said. “And we’re not going to get any answers tonight. Maybe you can talk to the doctors tomorrow. See what they have to say.”

I nodded. “Thanks, you guys.”

I stayed up with them for a while longer, sipping tea. But my mind kept drifting to William. Was he okay? Were they treating him well? I hoped he wasn’t worried about me, but I had a feeling they’d confiscated his phone. I went to bed in Jessica and Peter’s guest room, heartsick and worried. Wondering what tomorrow would bring.