Dying to Tell (25 page)

Sadie sighed. “That makes sense. Did Papaw agree?”

“Yes,” Dr. Tynsdale said.

“Do you think that’s what triggered Amelia to kill Papaw? That he tried to talk to her about it, and she couldn’t handle it, then transitioned to Skid, and he shot my grandfather?”

His eyebrows crinkled. “I don’t know, but I’d like to work with her and find out.”

Sadie had always trusted Dr. Tynsdale. She hated having doubts now.

“Did you ever notice Amelia being mistreated while she was at the sanitarium?”

His eyes widened. “Of course, not. My God, I would have reported it and removed her immediately.”

But he hadn’t treated Amelia when she’d first been admitted. Dr. Sanderson had.

And now he was dead.

So was Grace, another one of Sanderson’s patients.

Dr. Tynsdale removed a file from his bag. “I understand that you’re worried, but here is your sister’s medical file. You can see the medication she’s taken, and there’s documentation of her treatment.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate this.”

“We both want Amelia to get well,” he said with a smile.

Her cell phone buzzed, and she saw that it was the funeral home. “I’m sorry, I have to get this. I’m going to grab some coffee and look at the file. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She hurried out the door before he could respond.

But Skid’s warning taunted her.

What had Skid meant, when he said she was going to get Amelia killed?

Skid had to get them out of this nuthouse.

He’d told Sadie
he
was back, and he was. Viola had seen him, and so had Bessie.

He had come back to torture them. To hunt them down like animals.

The chimes...
Ting. Ting. Ting
.

He would kill them all and stop their ringing.

Then it would be the end of him too.

He waited quietly, biding his time while Amelia whined to the doctor. Finally the old man left to talk to that nurse, then the fat bitch who had been ugly to Amelia during the night waddled in, a hypodermic in her hand.

“I hate to do this to you, Amelia, but we can’t let you get worked up again.”

Worked up? Hell, the stupid cunt didn’t know the meaning.

He grabbed her wrist, jerked the needle from her hand, and stabbed her in the neck with it before she could yell for help. She fell to the floor with a loud clatter, banging the rolling cart holding that crap they’d called breakfast.

Fuck. He had to save Amelia and the others before Sadie came back. Before the Commander found them and ended them for good.

He rifled through the nurse’s pockets and took her keycard, then tiptoed to the door and peeked out. The hall was empty. Somewhere down the corridor, a food cart rattled. Someone hummed. A patient was crying.

Screams echoed in his head.

He drowned them out as he slipped from the room and headed down the hall toward the back stairwell. He’d find a way out of this hellhole.

And no one would ever lock him up again.

S
adie took a deep breath as she stepped into the hallway. “Yes, ‘Amazing Grace’ is fine.” A pause. “Yes, ‘Shall We Gather at the River’ will be good.”

Mazie passed her as she ended the call, and Sadie followed her over to the nurse’s station. “Mazie, can I ask you something?”

The woman looked around, wary, then nodded. “What is it?”

“Were you working here when Arthur Blackwood was the administrator?”

A flash of some emotion Sadie couldn’t quite define lit Mazie’s eyes. “Yes.”

Sadie leaned over the nurse’s desk and lowered her voice. “What was he like?”

“Why would you ask about him?”

Sadie shrugged. “I just wondered if he took an interest in patient care.”

“Well, yes,” Mazie said in a low voice. “He used to hold weekly staff meetings with the doctors for updates.”

“Did he ever visit patients in their homes?”

Mazie glanced around again. “No, not that I remember. But that was a long time ago.”

“Right.” Sadie debated on how much to push. “Do you remember a doctor named Coker?”

“Yes,” Mazie said. “He worked at the free clinic.”

“What about Dr. Sanderson?”

“He was here until a few years ago,” Mazie said.

“What did you think of them?” Sadie asked.

Mazie stiffened. “I like keeping my job, Ms. Nettleton, so I never gossip about doctors.” She turned to her computer. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“If you think of anything you want to tell me, I’d appreciate it,” Sadie said.

Mazie cut her a stern look. “You’d best be careful poking around.”

Sadie nodded, although she wasn’t about to be scared off. Her stomach growled, and she decided to grab a bite of lunch while she reviewed the file Dr. Tynsdale had given her.

She walked to the cafeteria, chose a turkey sandwich, a cup of soup, and iced tea and settled at a table in the corner. But her appetite had vanished, and she was nowhere closer to the truth than she had been the day she’d arrived in town.

When she returned to Amelia’s room, she’d use her art therapy techniques to tap into Amelia’s subconscious.

The others might be protecting Amelia, but she’d have to convince them that helping Sadie learn the truth would help her sister. Of course, that meant accessing their memories.

Between the three alters and Amelia, maybe she could piece together the facts.

Her resolve renewed, she managed to eat a few more bites, then opened the file.

She noted the date and realized that the file only contained information on how Dr. Tynsdale had treated her; it held nothing prior to the date he took charge.

Nothing about Sanderson or Coker and what they might have done.

She skimmed the first part, which focused on the three steps of treatment for DID:

1. Stabilization and symptom reduction
   
2. Treatment of traumatic memories
   
3. Reintegration and rehabilitation
   

Dr. Tynsdale had tried hypnotic techniques to access the memories, but Amelia still hadn’t dealt with the night Blackwood died.

Another hypnotic session had focused on accessing early childhood memories, but there was nothing about sexual or physical abuse, as was often found. He had tried to discuss her parents’ car accident and deaths, and Amelia had become agitated. She had commented that she remembered hearing her mother scream and seeing blood flying against the glass.

Sadie pressed her hand over her mouth to stem the tears as the same memory surfaced for her. She’d had nightmares about it.

But had it caused Amelia’s psychotic break?

A chill slithered through her. What if Coker had given some of the children a bad vaccine?

But
she
hadn’t reacted. Unless she’d received medication from a different batch.

She put that thought on hold and finished reading the file.

Dr. Tynsdale had prescribed a battery of psychopharmacological drugs, antidepressants and anxiolytics, serotonin reuptake inhibitors, and anticonvulsants, including Neurontin.

Sadie shook her head. All that therapy, and her sister was no better off than before. And now this shooting had caused a setback.

Her nerves prickled as two patient-care workers strolled in, talking in hushed voices.

Suddenly an alarm sounded, the intercom bursting to life. “Code red, code red. The hospital is in lockdown.”

Lockdown. That meant a patient had escaped, or that one of the patients had attacked a staff member or other patient.

Sadie froze, her throat tightening as one of the orderlies turned and stared at her. He said something to the other man, then spoke into his radio, his gaze remaining fastened on her.

A bad feeling crept up her spine. Something was wrong. Why were they looking at her like that? Like she was some kind of...criminal?

Then an image of Grace flashed into her mind. Grace had been pushed down one of the stairwells.

Dear Lord, had something happened to Amelia?

She stuck the file under her arm, left her tray, and headed toward the door, but a guard stepped in front of her. “Amelia Nettleton?”

“No, I’m her sister, Sadie. Is something wrong?”

He gripped her arm. “Good try, lady, but I’ve seen you before.”

“Listen to me, I’m Amelia’s sister.” Sadie tried to push away from him. “Did Amelia get out of her room?”

His fingernails dug into her arms as he half dragged her down the hallway toward her sister’s room. “You can’t escape here.”

Sadie dug in her heels and tried to reach for the file. “You’re making a mistake. Just look at her file. I’m Amelia’s twin.”

He ignored her protests and jerked her forward, then took the file from her. Sadie winced in pain. For the first time in her life, she understood the blinding panic that Amelia felt when people didn’t believe her.

“Call Dr. Tynsdale—he can verify who I am.” He yanked her so hard, she bit her tongue to keep from cursing him. She couldn’t let them drug her before she found someone to straighten out
this mess. “Check with the head nurse. She saw me in Amelia’s room.”

“Right,” he muttered. “And you’re the sane sister, not the one who attacked one of our nurses.”

Sadie gasped. Dear God...Amelia must be desperate.

The alarm was still sounding, people scurrying up and down the hall, and another guard appeared with a radio, then spoke into it. “Patient has been located. We’re escorting her back to her room now.”

“No,” Sadie cried. “Call Dr. Tynsdale, call Sheriff Blackwood. They’ll tell you I’m not Amelia! If she’s escaping, we need to find her.”

But the beefy guy who had been manhandling her shoved her into the hospital room and onto the bed, then reached for the restraints.

Reality hit her with the force of a fist, and she fought him, but he was too big and strong, and he pressed his knee into her chest and held her down. Sadie struggled to breathe as he clamped the restraints around her wrists.

“You have the wrong person,” she said in a choked cry. “You have to find my sister.”

Ignoring her protests, he pulled a hypodermic from his pocket and stabbed her arm with it.

Tears filled her eyes as she fought to explain. If the drugs took effect and no one realized the mistake they’d made, she might be here for hours.

By then, Amelia could be anywhere.

And if her sister was in danger, she might not be able to save her.

Jake spent the morning at his office, fending off calls from curious residents. Brenda Banks had called, and this time he returned her call. “It’s the sheriff.”

“Jake,” Brenda said. “I’m assuming Sadie told you about our talk.”

“Yes,” Jake said. “Why don’t you fill me in?”

“I don’t know any more than what I told Sadie,” Brenda said. “Someone contacted me and told me that there was abuse in that hospital, that it had been going on for years.”

“Who was this?”

“I can’t divulge my source, Jake.”

“I know you have that reporter-informant privacy thing, but this is important, Brenda.”

“Listen, Jake, the person who called me was scared. She was afraid of retribution if she was identified.”

“You mean she was afraid of getting fired?”

“I sensed it was more than that,” Brenda said.