Jesus, Quinlan, what's going on here?"
"I don't know. But I've got to find her. Someone was trying to scare the hell out of her-make her believe she was crazy-and that aunt of hers didn't help a bit, kept telling her in an understanding, tender voice that she'd be hearing things and seeing things too if she'd been through all that Sally had, and she had been in that sanitarium for so long, and that would make her think differently, wouldn't it?
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"Then the two murders. I've got to find her. Everything else is nuts, but not Sally."
"When you feel well enough, you and I will go see her aunt. I already spoke to her, but she just said that she hadn't seen Sally, that she was staying with you at Thelma's Bed and Breakfast. We searched your tower bedroom. Her duffel bag was gone and all her clothes, her blow dryer, everything. It's like she was never there. Look, Quinlan, maybe when she saw you unconscious, she got really scared and ran."
"No," James said, looking David straight in the eye. "I know she wouldn't leave me, not if I were lying there unconscious. She just wouldn't."
"It's like that, is it?"
"God only knows, but she has a thick streak of honor and she cares about me. She wouldn't have left."
"Then we've got to find her. Another thing-I'm an officer of the law. Now that I know who she is, it's my duty to report her."
"I'd appreciate it if you'd wait, David. There's more at stake here than just Amory St. John's murder, lots more. Trust me on this."
David looked at him for a long time. Finally, he said, "All right. Tell me what I can do to help."
"Let's go see Aunt Amabel Perdy."
Dr. Alfred Beadermeyer was enjoying himself. Sally didn't know the small new mirror in her room was two-way. No one knew, at least he didn't think so. He watched her sit up slowly, obviously trying to coordinate her arms and legs. Since her brain was fuzzy, it was difficult for her, but she just kept trying.
He admired that in her, and at the same time he wanted to destroy it. It seemed to take her several moments to realize she was naked.
Then, very slowly, as if she were an old woman, she rose and walked to the small closet. She pulled out a nightgown she'd left here when she escaped before. She didn't know it, but he had bought it for her.
She slipped it over her head, teetering a bit but managing finally. Then she walked back to sit on the edge of the bed. She held her head in her hands.
He was getting bored. Wouldn't she do anything? Wouldn't she start yelling? Something? He had nearly turned to go when at last she raised her head and he saw tears streaming down her cheeks.
This was better. Soon she would be ready to listen to him. Soon now. He would hold off on another shot for an hour or so. He turned away and unlocked the door of the tiny room.
Sally knew she was crying. She could feel the wet on her face, taste the salt when it trickled into her mouth. Why was she crying? James. She remembered James, how he lay there, blood streaming from the wound over his left ear. He'd been so still, so very still. Beadermeyer had promised he wasn't dead. How could she believe that devil?
He had to be all right. She looked at the soft silk gown that slithered against her skin. It was a lovely peach color with wide silk straps over her shoulders. Unfortunately it bagged on her now. She looked at the needle marks in her arm. There were five pinpricks. He'd drugged her five times. She felt her head begin to clear, slowly, so very slowly. More things, memories, began to filter through, take shape and Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
substance.
She had to get out of here before he either killed her or took her someplace else, someplace where nobody could find her. She thought of James. He could find her if anyone could.
She forced herself to her feet. She took one step, then another. Soon she was walking slowly, carefully, but naturally. She stood in front of the narrow window and stared out onto the sanitarium grounds.
The mowed lawn stretched a good hundred yards before it butted against a heavily wooded area. Surely she could walk that far; she had before. She just had to get to those woods. She could get lost in those woods, just as she had before. Eventually she'd found her way out. She would again.
She walked back to the closet. There was a bathrobe and two more nightgowns, a pair of slippers.
Nothing else. No pants, no dresses, no underwear.
She didn't care. She would walk in her bathrobe, to the ends of the earth if necessary. Then another veil lifted in her brain, and she remembered that she'd stolen one of the nurse's pantsuits that first time, and her shoes. Would it be possible to do that again?
Who had done this to her? She knew it wasn't her father. He was long dead. It had to be the man pretending to be her father, the man who'd called her, who'd appeared at her bedroom window. It could have been Scott, it could have been Dr. Beadermeyer, it could have been some man either of them had hired.
But not her father, thank God. That miserable bastard was finally dead. She prayed there really was a hell. If there was, she knew he was there, in the deepest pit.
She had to get to her mother. Noelle would help her. Noelle would protect her, once she knew the truth.
But why hadn't Noelle ever come to see her during the six months here? Why hadn't she demanded to know why her daughter was here? As far as Sally knew, Noelle hadn't done anything to help her. Did she believe her daughter was crazy? She'd believed her husband? She'd believed Sally's husband?
How to get out of here?
Amabel said, "Would either of you gentlemen care for a cup of coffee?''
"No," Quinlan said curtly. "Tell us where Sally is." Amabel sighed and motioned the two men to sit down.
"Listen, James, I already told the sheriff here that Sally must have gotten scared when she saw you were hurt, and she ran. That's the only explanation. Sally's not a strong girl. She's been through a lot. She was even in an asylum. You don't look shocked. I'm a bit surprised that she told you about it. Something like that shouldn't be talked about.
“But listen, she was very ill. She still is. It makes sense that she would run again, just like she ran away from what happened in Washington. If you doubt me, just go to Thelma's. Martha told me that all of Sally's things were gone from James's room. Isn't that odd? She left not even a memory of herself in that room.
"It was like she wanted to erase her very self." She paused a moment, then added in a faraway gypsy's voice, "It's almost as if she'd never really been there at all, as if we all just imagined she was here."
Quinlan jumped to his feet and stood over her. He looked as menacing as hell, but David didn't say a Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
word, just waited. Quinlan stuck his face very near hers and said slowly and very distinctly, "That's bullshit, Amabel. Sally wasn't an apparition, nor was she nuts, as you implied to her, like you're implying to us now. She didn't imagine hearing a woman scream those two nights. She didn't imagine seeing her father's face at her bedroom window in the middle of the night. You tried to make her doubt herself, didn't you, Amabel? You tried to make her think she was crazy."
"That is ridiculous."
Quinlan moved even closer, leaning over her now, forcing her to press her back against the chair. “Why did you do that, Amabel? You just said you knew she was in a sanitarium. You knew, didn't you, that someone put her there and kept her for six months drugged to her eyebrows? You didn't try to assure her that she was as sane as anyone-no, you kept on with the innuendos.
"Don't deny it, I heard you do it. You tried to make Sally doubt herself, her reason. Why?"
But Amabel just smiled sadly at him. She said to David, "Sheriff, I've been very patient. This man only knew Sally for a little over a week. I'm her aunt. I love her. There's no reason I would ever want to hurt her. I would always seek to protect her. I'm sorry, James, but she ran away. It's as simple as that. I pray the sheriff will find her. She's not strong. She needs to be taken care of."