Dying to Tell (18 page)

The door swung open, and two orderlies rushed in. A heavyset one took one look at Amelia, wrapped his arms around her waist, and dragged her toward the bed.

“Let me go, let me go!” Amelia cried. “I have to get out of here before he finds me!”

“Amelia, please,” Sadie said softly. “Who is he?”

“No, don’t lock me up. He’ll find me and kill me, and then he’ll come after you.”

Dr. Tynsdale checked the hypodermic. “I’m sorry, Amelia, but we have to stabilize you.”

Sadie winced as he gave her the injection. A second later, Amelia sagged in his arms, the fight slowly fading from her.

Sadie fisted her hands in frustration. “You didn’t have to knock her out. I wanted to talk to her.”

“You’ve upset her enough for today,” Dr. Tynsdale hissed. “She needs to remember slowly, or we could damage her psyche permanently.”

Sadie watched as the orderly reattached the restraints.

Amelia would never hurt her.

Then again, she’d never imagined that she’d hurt their grandfather either.

Although she could hurt herself.

A frown of disapproval furrowed Dr. Tynsdale’s brow. “Amelia has been my patient for years, Sadie. You have to trust me.”

Anxiety knotted Sadie’s shoulders. That was the problem.

She didn’t trust anyone anymore.

Jake was antsy to talk to Dr. Coker about the free clinic as well as to Dr. Sanderson, the doctor who’d treated Grace, but he decided to check on Sadie and her sister first, so he drove straight to the sanitarium.

By the time he arrived, Sadie and Dr. Tynsdale were standing outside Amelia’s room. Sadie looked agitated, her shoulders slumped as she rubbed her arms with her hands. They were talking in hushed voices, Dr. Tynsdale’s expression troubled.

“What’s going on?” Jake asked.

A flicker of relief crossed Sadie’s face when she spotted him approaching. “Let’s go to the coffee shop and talk.”

Dr. Tynsdale worried his hand across his chin, then the three of them walked down the hallway and rode the elevator to the second-floor cafeteria.

Jake frowned at the dingy walls and smell of burned food. Why didn’t someone at least update the drab, dark curtains and add some lighting to create a cheery atmosphere for the staff and the patients’ families and friends?

Except for a couple of workers behind a grill and another lady at a cash register, the room was essentially empty. In the center, a hot bar offered meats and vegetables in warming trays while the grill offered sandwiches, burgers, and pizza.

Jake filled his cup. “This looks worse than the sludge at the jail.”

“I’d give anything for a Starbucks,” Sadie said.

Dr. Tynsdale simply shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“I can’t imagine visitors lingering in here,” Sadie commented, mirroring Jake’s earlier impression of the place.

“Sadly, most of the patients have very few visitors.” Dr. Tynsdale took his coffee black and gestured toward a corner table. “And when they do, they tend not to hang out or eat here.”

Sadie stirred sweetener in her coffee and sipped it, then dumped the cup in the trash.

“So how is Amelia?” Jake asked as they seated themselves.

A pang of sadness flickered across Sadie’s face. “She’s sedated again. But I talked to one of her alters.”

Dr. Tynsdale’s eyes shot to Sadie. “You didn’t tell me that. Which one?”

“Skid, the teenage boy.” Sadie exchanged an odd look with the doctor. “He kept saying that Amelia didn’t kill Papaw, that someone else did. Has another alter surfaced that I don’t know about?”

Dr. Tynsdale shook his head. “No, not to me anyway.”

“Who did this Skid character say killed Walt?” Jake asked.

Sadie made a frustrated sound. “He didn’t say. But he was adamant that a man killed Papaw.” Sadie massaged her temple the way she always did when she was worried. “He also said something else that troubled me.”

“What?” Dr. Tynsdale asked.

“That Amelia would never believe anything bad about Papaw.”

Jake drummed his fingers on the table. “What did he mean by that?”

“I have no idea.” Sadie sighed. “When I pushed for answers, Skid disappeared and Amelia returned. She was agitated when she realized she was in the hospital.”

Dr. Tynsdale fidgeted with his glasses. “Sadie tried to coax her into talking about her grandfather’s murder, but she got so upset, I had to sedate her.”

Sadie glanced out the window. “I hate seeing her restrained like she’s some kind of animal.”

Jake wanted to comfort her, but it wasn’t the place or time. Not with Dr. Tynsdale watching and with questions ticking through his head.

Besides, technically Amelia was a suspect in a homicide.

“Dr. Tynsdale, how long have you treated Amelia?”

The doctor sipped his coffee. “I’ve known the girls since they were little, but I started treating Amelia when she was twelve.”

“Were you the doctor who admitted her to the sanitarium?”

“No.” Tynsdale stared into his coffee. “Walt said this doctor from the free clinic in town did. Said Amelia exhibited signs of schizophrenia, that she claimed she was hearing voices in her head.”

“That was about the time her second personality emerged?” Jake asked.

“That’s right,” Dr. Tynsdale said.

“Was the doctor named Coker?” Jake asked.

Tynsdale scratched his head. “I believe so.”

Brenda Banks’s conversation with Sadie echoed in Jake’s head. “You’ve been working at the hospital for years now. Have you ever noticed any patients being mistreated?”

Tynsdale’s brows furrowed. “No—if I did, I certainly would have reported it.”

“I’d like to see records of Amelia’s treatments,” Jake said.

Tynsdale scowled. “You know patient-doctor confidentiality laws prohibit me from showing them to you.”

“I’m her only family, and now that Papaw’s gone, I’m her guardian,” Sadie said. “You can show them to me.”

“All right,” Dr. Tynsdale said. “I’ll get a file to you ASAP.”

“How about files from the free clinic?” Jake asked.

“I’ll see what I can find out. But that clinic was closed a long time ago. As a matter of fact, there was a fire, and the records burned. That’s why I don’t have records of that time.”

“Just get Amelia’s together,” Jake said. “I’m going to request a warrant to have Grace Granger’s medical records released to me.”

Again, Tynsdale shifted, and Jake wondered if the man knew more than he was telling.

After all, Tynsdale had been treating Amelia for years. He could easily have manipulated her meds or treatment to cover up inappropriate activities.

Worse, Sadie had trusted him with her sister’s life, just as her grandfather had.

And he had ended up dead.

He studied the pictures of the “chimes.”

All the innocent faces. The ones who’d given themselves for the cause.

A laugh bubbled in his throat. Well, maybe they hadn’t exactly given themselves freely.

But they had been such an important part of the plan.

Dammit, Amelia was starting to remember.

That was dangerous. She had to be stopped.

He knew how to do it, too. She was weak. She always had been.

The key to controlling her was the others.

He’d use them to smother her voice. To make her forget.

Sadie was the opposite though. Tenacious. A fighter. She wouldn’t give up.

She had her devious side, too. A side no one in town knew about.

But if she didn’t leave the past alone, they would know.

Everyone would.

And Sadie would be sorry she’d ever returned to Slaughter Creek.

S
adie hated to leave Amelia, but her sister would probably sleep for hours. Still, she gave orders for the nurse to phone her if Amelia woke up and was agitated, no matter what the time of day or night. Ms. Lettie had also called to say that she was on her way back to the hospital to stay with Amelia so Sadie could stop by the funeral home and arrange for her grandfather’s memorial service.

Jake walked her outside. “I’m going to question Dr. Coker,” he said as they paused by her car. “I didn’t want to mention this in front of Dr. Tynsdale, but he also treated Joe Swoony at the free clinic.”

Sadie frowned. “So three people who had mental disorders were treated as children at the clinic before they became seriously ill?”

Jake nodded. “It may be nothing, but considering Grace’s murder and Brenda’s accusations, I’m curious.”

Sadie caught his arm. “Thank you for doing this, Jake.”

Jake stiffened, his dark eyes meeting hers. Tension stretched between them, the urge to lean into him tugging at her. She had been alone so long, had missed him, yearned for him, for his touch, his understanding.

His love.

But she had no right. Not after what her family had done to him.

“I’m just doing my job,” Jake said.

Her heart lurched. Of course he was. It was nothing personal to him.

“I need to stop by the funeral home,” Sadie said. “But I’d like to go with you to see Dr. Coker first.”

Jake frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re too close to this.”

Sadie stood her ground. “I am a psychiatric counselor, Jake. I might be able to help.”

He reluctantly agreed, and they dropped her car by the funeral home.

Determined to steer her mind away from Jake, Sadie studied the scenery as he drove down the winding road. The mountains rose above them, the sharp ridges jutting out, the trees shivering beneath the weight of the wind. Late-afternoon shadows plagued the highway, clouds rolling in from the north, threatening more flurries.

She needed to put the horses in the barn when she got home. Make sure they had food and water and were warm.

They wound through a series of back roads, then veered onto a road near the river, resurrecting haunting memories and taking Sadie back to the night that had ruined her life.

She fought the images, but they flew at her like a sea of bats in the dark. The sounds of the shovel hitting dirt and rock, Skid’s constant curses, Papaw’s incessant cough, her own silent cries of horror at what they were doing.

At all that had been lost.

Papaw’s cold slap on her face, ordering her not to tell anyone what had happened. Then her guilt as she followed him in the truck while he drove Arthur Blackwood’s car to the airport and left it.

By the time they reached the dirt road leading to Dr. Coker’s hideaway, sweat beaded her skin, and she felt dizzy with guilt and shame.

Oblivious, Jake parked and turned to her. “You sure you want to do this?”

No. She wanted to run again.

At the same time, she wanted to hug Jake and confess how much she’d loved him.

To beg his forgiveness for the lies she’d told.

For leaving him behind.

But Papaw was gone now, and Amelia was locked away, needing help. She had run before, and it hadn’t done any good. No matter how far she’d gone, the secrets, lies, and pain had followed her.

So she grabbed the door handle and climbed out. The secrets had to stay buried deep in the ground—just like Jake’s father.