“What conflict?” Lisa asked, immediately thinking of Jane Doe’s resemblance to Abby. For some reason, the old man’s words flitted through her head. Un emprenteuse.
“Beats the hell out of me. I just do what I’m told.”
“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the police are gone.”
Clayton’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“I was down in the basement doing a supply check and when I came back they’d all packed up and left.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know how hard it was for me to drag myself out of bed?”
“All they left behind was a uniform posted at the Jane Doe’s door, and he won’t tell me a thing.”
“What about Michael? Is he in there with her?”
She shook her head. “Gone too. Left before lunch. I haven’t seen him since, and he won’t answer his phone. To tell you the truth, I’m pretty worried about him.”
“So what the hell is going on?”
“You tell me. I’m just a nurse, remember? I couldn’t even get Michael to spill.”
Clayton’s frown deepened. He was not a happy man. Probably needed his beauty sleep.
“Fuck it,” he said, then started off toward the seclusion ward.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m here, I might as well check in on her. See what all the fuss is about.”
They went in together, looking through the glass at Jane Doe, who barely seemed to have moved since the last time Lisa had been in here.
“Hey, hey,” Cassie said, the moment she saw Clayton. “What brings you out of your cave?”
Lisa had always suspected Cassie had a crush on Clayton, but whenever they were together — which wasn’t often thanks to opposing shifts — she chided him like a younger sister.
As the two exchanged quips, Lisa tuned them out and kept her gaze on Jane Doe. Try as she might, she couldn’t get what the old man had told her out of her head. He was certifiable, no doubt about that. But while she had never been the superstitious type, there was something about this woman — the resemblance that somehow seemed more than a resemblance — that gave weight to his words.
Un emprenteuse. A borrower.
Could it be true? Could Abby be in there somewhere, struggling for control?
“You’re out of your friggin’ mind,” Clayton said.
Feeling as if her thoughts had suddenly been invaded, Lisa returned her focus to Cassie and Clayton’s conversation. Clayton seemed more agitated than ever.
“I’m just telling you what I saw,” Cassie said, looking defensive. “Dr. Tolan saw it too. Both of her eyes are brown.”
“Impossible. Heterochromia isn’t something you just…”
He paused then, his gaze once again resting on Jane Doe. He moved closer to the glass. “Is this some kind of practical joke? Who is that woman?”
Lisa joined him at the window, but couldn’t figure out what he was staring at. “What’s wrong?”
“I think I’m being punked, is what. Any minute now some idiot from That ’70s Show is gonna poke his head in here and say boo.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That isn’t the same woman I examined this morning. Look at her shoulder.”
“Come on, Clay,” Cassie said. “You’re being ridiculous. I’ve been on watch all day and…”
Now she paused, her jaw going slack. She punched a key on her keyboard and the computer screen switched to camera view, an overhead shot of the patient. Clicking the mouse, she zoomed in on Jane Doe’s left shoulder.
“Holy crap,” she said. “That’s impossible.”
Clayton turned away from the glass. “I don’t know what kind of game you people are playing, but you can tell Michael or that knucklehead cop or whoever’s behind this that I don’t appreciate dragging my ass out of bed to be made a fool of.”
He headed out the door, Lisa watching him, thoroughly bewildered. “Would somebody like to tell me what the hell is going on?”
Cassie pointed to the computer monitor. “Her tattoo. The Hello Kitty tattoo.”
“What tattoo? I don’t see one.”
“That’s the thing,” Cassie said. “It’s gone.”
FIVE
The Man Who Tempted Fate
41
In the dream, she was with him.
They were walking together through the darkness, careful to stay close, her hands tightly clutching his arm. She was frightened — they both were — but in a good way. The kind of fright you feel on a roller coaster or watching a scary movie.
They came to a stop in front of the old hospital, its looming malevolence making them press a little closer together. The open front doors were missing, and the black hole that stood in their place was like an invitation to some dark hell.
After a moment, Abby held up her camera — the Canon Digital SLR she carried with her everywhere she went — and said, “I’m going in.”
This surprised Tolan, but he nodded. “I’ll go with you.”
“No, Michael, you have to stay here.”
“Why?”
“Too dangerous,” she said. “You have to wait your turn.”
Tolan stared at that black doorway. The “good” fright he’d felt only a moment ago didn’t seem so good anymore.
“I don’t want to wait,” he said. “I want to be with you.”
“You’ll be with me soon enough. You have to break away for now. You have to let go.”
“I don’t want to.”
She smiled at him then, leaned up and kissed him. “I don’t want to either, darling. But it isn’t about us. It isn’t our choice.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There’s nothing to understand. It’s the way. The Rhythm. The heartbeat.”
“The heartbeat?” Tolan said. “What does that mean?”
She let go of him then, started toward the doorway. He tried to grab her arm, but his hand went right through her, as if she were made of vapor.
“Abby, wait.”
“I’ll see you again, Michael. I’m closer than you think. Much closer. Just ask the old man. He knows.”
“Old man? What old man?”
She stood at the doorway now, a step away from the darkness. “This is where it happens, Michael. Where it all comes together and balance is restored.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Listen… ” she said. “Don’t you hear it? Someone’s calling you.”
At first he wasn’t sure what she was talking about. Then a distant buzzing filled his ears, coming in short, steady spurts. He turned, looking for the source of it. Saw nothing but the night. The trees. The mountains.
“I’ll see you soon, Michael.”
He turned back to her and her camera was raised to her eye, pointed at him. Then the flash went off, momentarily blinding him.
When it finally cleared she was gone.
“Abby?”
He stared at that darkened doorway, wondering if she’d ever really been there at all.
He awoke to the buzzing sound.
His phone, vibrating.
He was lying on a floor, but he wasn’t sure whose floor until he sat upright and the world spinning around him began to slow and come into focus.
Then he recognized the place immediately. The oriental rugs. The off-white sofa and chairs. The abstract painting on the wall above the fireplace. The carpeted stairs leading to the bedroom. The steady sound of waves rolling in.
The beach house. Lisa’s beach house.