The Abandoned

Ree

Ree slept the sleep of the dead that night. No Ilsa dreams. No sleepwalking episodes. When she woke up, she felt rested and refreshed and after a text message from Hayden, she had a little something to look forward to as she headed off to Emerson. Things were looking up. Maybe it was time to put all the intrigue and weirdness behind her and start focusing on the future again. Now might be a good time to revisit her goals.

First order of business was research in the library, and Ree was proud of herself for ignoring the lure of the archives. Whatever was to be gleaned about Oak Grove Cemetery and the Tisdales from those dusty old books would have to wait. Her thesis project came first because she’d put way too much time, effort and money into her education to squander it all away now.

Just when she was starting to think she had a handle on normal again, she ran smack into Detective Devlin on the library steps. He put a hand on her arm to steady her, but Ree shied away.

“Miss Hutchins, isn’t it?”

“How do you know my name?” She hadn’t told anyone at police headquarters who she was.

“I ran your plates yesterday.”

Of course, he had. “How did you know which car was mine?”

“I ran them all until I found you.”

Of course, he had. Ree glanced away, not wanting to look straight into the abyss of his gaze. “How did you know I was here?”

“A wild guess.”

Translation: Either he’d followed her from her apartment or someone had tipped him off. And just like that, Ree found herself back in the morass created by that overheard conversation. Maybe she should just tell Detective Devlin the truth. Get it all out in the open. As Hayden pointed out, that might be her best protection. But Ree didn’t trust Devlin. He’d become suspect the moment she’d seen him with Dr. Farrante.

“You ran off without giving your statement,” he said smoothly.

Ree refused to be lulled by that silky drawl. “Something came up. I couldn’t wait.”

“Something more important than a murder investigation?”

“I told you, I don’t know anything about that murder.”

“Then tell me what you know about Jared Tisdale.”

Ree didn’t want to tell him anything, but she was wise enough to realize that she’d better give him something.

She nodded and shifted her messenger bag to the other shoulder. “I volunteer at the Milton H. Farrante Psychiatric Hospital. Night before last one of the nurses asked me to deliver a package to Dr. Farrante’s office. Just as I got there, I saw a man coming out of Dr. Farrante’s office. It was Tisdale, but I didn’t know that until I saw his picture on the news yesterday morning.”

“What time was this?”

“Around nine, I think.”

“Did he say anything?”

“No. It was a very brief encounter. He brushed by me on his way out. I spoke with Dr. Farrante for a moment, left the package, and then went back to work. That’s all I can tell you. I don’t know if it’s important, but I thought it might be helpful in establishing a timeline.”

“That’s very civic-minded of you,” he said. “Did you speak to Dr. Farrante about this?”

“No. I haven’t been back to the hospital. As soon as I saw the news report, I went straight to the police.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?” His gaze narrowed and darkened, his focus so intense, Ree had to glance away.

She pretended to check her phone. “As I said, it was a very brief encounter. Now if you’ll excuse me…I don’t want to be late to my next class.”

To Ree’s surprise, he made no attempt to detain her. She ran down the steps and only glanced back when she got to the bottom. Detective Devlin was nowhere in sight.

Ree had a shift at the hospital that night and for the first time since she’d started working part-time jobs at sixteen, she considered calling in sick. But she was already on Devlin’s radar—Dr. Farrante’s, too, unfortunately—so the best thing to do was continue her usual routine. Act as though nothing had happened. Hopefully, Tisdale’s killer would soon be caught and she could fade back into the woodwork. There was still the secret involving Violet and Ilsa to uncover, but nothing could be done about that without calling too much attention to herself. For now, her curiosity and sense of justice would have to be put on hold.

The evening went smoothly enough until Trudy summoned her to escort Alice Canton back to her room. Remembering how Alice had reacted to her two nights ago, Ree almost expected the woman to shy away from her. But instead Alice docilely followed her down the corridor, even humming under her breath as though she hadn’t a care in the world. When they got to her door, however, she turned to glance warily over Ree’s shoulder.

“Where is she?”

“Where is who?” Ree asked.

“The girl in the blue dress.”

Ree’s scalp began to prickle. “I don’t know.”

“She’ll come back.” Alice warned. Then she leaned in and lowered her voice to a terrified whisper. “They always come back.”

More than a little spooked, Ree settled Alice in and then hurried back up to the front desk.

“What’s the matter with you?” Trudy asked. “You look as if you just saw a ghost.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Ree muttered.

Trudy didn’t seem to hear her. “I need a favor before you sign out.” She shoved a thick stack of folders across the counter. “Apparently, Dr. Alden’s researching another book. He finished with these files two days ago, but nobody on days can be bothered to return them. They belong in the dungeon. You know where that is, right?”

Most of the patient records were computerized, but the archived files were stored in a separate wing in a basement-level room dubbed the dungeon. Where that designation had originated, Ree didn’t want to speculate.

“I don’t have access,” she said.

Trudy glanced around. “You didn’t get this from me.” She scribbled a number on the back of a note card and handed it to Ree. “Not that it matters. Nobody’s likely to be down there at this hour and the code changes every week. Just leave the files on the counter and skedaddle.”

The corridors were eerily silent as Ree made her way to the dungeon, but every now and then she could hear the distant wail of a restless mind. As she hurried along on her mission, she began to get the creepy sensation of being followed. Time and again she glanced over her shoulder, but the long hallway behind her was empty. She’ll come back. They always come back.

Gooseflesh quilled the hair at her nape. Ignoring a draft that could only be coming from the air-conditioning vents, Ree tapped in the code and entered the dungeon. The chill followed her in.

She gave herself a pep talk as she reached for the light switch. A moment later, the fluorescent bulbs flickered on, casting a harsh glow over the room. The area was large and well-organized, very different from the archives at Emerson. Above the long rows of metal storage cabinets, she could see darkness through the bars installed over the narrow windows.

Her sneakers made barely a sound as she moved along the tile floor. She placed the folders on the counter and started to turn. Something caught her attention, a sound that might have been a whisper.

Ree forced a laugh. Keep it together, girl. There’s nothing down here but a bunch of ancient files. Decades of recorded misery.

Then, whether it was a hallucination or another figment of her imagination, Ree couldn’t say, but suddenly she had a very clear vision of being in that room. An image formed in her mind…a young woman strapped to a gurney with electrodes attached to a metal apparatus fastened around her head.

Where is my baby? What have you done to her? Please don’t hurt her! Please don’t do this to her!

On and on the woman babbled until a long needle was inserted beneath one of her eyelids. And then her screams became incessant.

Ree clutched her head, trying to quell the disturbing tableau. It was an image from a movie, no doubt. Something that had been tucked away for years in the far recesses of her mind.

Again, she turned to leave, but something suddenly occurred to her. There was a very good chance that some of Violet Tisdale’s early records were stored down here. Confidentiality in the mental health care profession was sacrosanct so rummaging through patient files wasn’t something Ree took lightly. But this was an opportunity that might not come again.

A cursory examination revealed the files were sorted by decade. Ree had no idea when Miss Violet had first been committed. The only specific date she knew was Ilsa’s tenth birthday—June 3, 1915. Professor Meakin said she’d run off to Europe when she was seventeen, which would have been sometime in 1922. Assuming Violet had been born at a later date, the most logical place to start a search was the year of Ilsa’s disappearance. Then Ree would work her way forward until and if she found something.

As it turned out, she needed to search no further than 1922. Everything she wanted to know was in a file labeled Ilsa Tisdale.

Ilsa had also been a patient at the hospital.

It took Ree a moment to absorb the significance of that revelation. At the age of seventeen, Ilsa had been committed by her father, James, and by her doctor, Milton Farrante. And she had remained confined until her death seven years later.

Ree read through the file, so engrossed in Ilsa’s tragic history that the swish of the door barely registered. She had no idea anyone was about until she felt an icy touch at the back of her neck. A warning…

A split second later, the lights sputtered off. Ree slanted her head, listening. She heard nothing at first and then a few feet away came an infinitesimal shuffle. Stealthy and determined, someone was closing in on her.

Ree waited for a moment longer, then slipped to the end of the row and flattened herself against the metal cabinet. She could discern footfalls now and turned her head toward the sound, trying to mentally chart his course. The outside security lights filtered in through the high windows, and as her eyes adjusted, Ree could see well enough. She glanced around the edge of the cabinet and saw a movement at the opposite end of the long row.

Jerking back, she held her breath. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe it was just someone returning files the same as her. But why turn off the lights? No, whoever he was, he was coming for her.

A few heartbeats went by before she chanced a second glance. She saw nothing this time and crept to the next row. Had she made a sound? Did he know where she was?

On and on the cat-and-mouse continued as row by row, Ree inched her way back to the door. She was just about to make a run for the exit when a figure glided out into the open. He was dressed in surgical gown, mask and cap. In one hand, he had what appeared to be a long needle. Oh, Jesus.

As Ree stepped back into the shadows, her heel bumped one of the metal frames. It made barely a sound, but she saw his head come up and around, and before she could turn, he rushed her. Ree couldn’t move. Her shoe was caught on a bolt and as she wrenched free, she lost her balance and crashed to the floor. She tried to scramble away, but he grabbed an ankle and yanked her toward him.

She lashed out with everything in her—kicking, clawing, biting—as something primitive and feral took hold of her. But she couldn’t get away from him. He straddled her, pinning her to the floor with his knees as one hand clamped around her neck. With his other hand, he lifted the needle.

Ree grabbed his wrist and tore his flesh with her nails. He dropped the syringe and with an outraged grunt, pressed both hands into her throat. He was crazed now. Like her, only stronger. Spots danced before her eyes as she tried to fight him off. She reached for his mask, fell short, and grabbed a fistful of gown while her left hand scrabbled along the floor. Fingers closing around the syringe, she used every ounce of strength she could muster to bury it in his neck.

He jerked back, spurting blood and screaming in pain. Ree kicked her way free and struggled to her feet. He would come after her. She had no doubt about that. Stumbling to the door, she flung it open and sprinted down the long, empty hallway.

It wasn’t until she was back in the south wing that she looked down and saw a silver medallion clutched in her fist.

Now it was Hayden who looked white as a sheet. “Jesus, Ree. We have to go to the police with this.”

“No! No police.”

They were seated in a dark corner booth at the bar near campus where Ree had asked him to meet her. She was too afraid to go back to her apartment.

“We can’t go to the police,” she said more calmly. “They’d never believe me.”

“What do you mean, they won’t believe you? You have his blood all over you.”

She looked down at the tiny spatters and shuddered. “It takes time to run a DNA test. And how do we know the results wouldn’t be compromised? Dr. Farrante apparently has some powerful allies. If I level any sort of accusation against him or the hospital, my career’s as good as dead.”

“Better than you being dead.”

“Look at this.” She slid the silver medallion across the table. “It’s just like the one I saw in my dream. Whoever attacked me…he’s one of them.”

Hayden said slowly, “But as you pointed out, it was just a dream. Or are you starting to believe that Ilsa really is trying to communicate with you?”

Ree thought about that warning touch at her neck right before the lights went out. “I don’t know what I believe right now.” She massaged her temples with her fingertips.

She didn’t want to talk about Ilsa’s ghost anymore. She wanted to talk about what she’d seen in that file. She’d told Hayden most of it over the phone, but she still needed to process it. “What was done to Ilsa that night was a secret that would bind those men together forever. No one dared speak the truth because if one fell, they all fell.”

Hayden said nothing but his gaze was very intense.

“She was lured to the cemetery that night by her own stepbrother. And when he was finished with her, he left her there for the others. Instead of seeking justice, James Tisdale covered it up. He sacrificed Ilsa in order to protect his son and the family’s political aspirations. She never ran away to Europe. She was committed to an insane asylum.”

He reached over and took her hand. He seemed to understand that she needed to talk about what she’d read in those files, as if sharing the horror would somehow diminish it.

“Her family abandoned her, leaving Milton Farrante free to conduct his gruesome experiments. She was subjected to electroconvulsive shock therapy more than ten years before the procedure was formally introduced. He may have performed one of the first lobotomies on her.”

“Unbelievable that he could do all that without anyone knowing,” Hayden said.

“The asylums were full of the forgotten back then, including Ilsa’s baby. Violet was born perfectly healthy, but she spent her whole life inside that hospital, a human experiment from birth to death for three generations of Farrantes. Poor Ilsa died when Violet was just seven years old.”

“But I don’t think she moved on,” Hayden said. “I believe her ghost remained in the asylum with Violet. Think about it. All those years, helpless to stop the experiments as she watched her daughter grow into a lonely old woman. But the moment Violet died, Ilsa was set free. And there you were, at Violet’s bedside, a way for Ilsa to finally leave the hospital.”

“I’m sorry, Hayden, but I just can’t believe something that—”

“Irrational? Illogical? Crazy? How else can you explain the dream?”

“I can’t. But there has to be another reason. Maybe something I read or heard a long time ago stuck in my subconscious and Miss Violet’s death triggered it.”

“What about the cold spots, the frosted windows, the frigid breath at your neck? That’s not your subconscious or imagination. She’s there, Ree. You can’t see her, but she’s there. And she’s not going away until you give her what she wants.”

“And what is that?”

His hand tightened around hers. “Put yourself in her place. After everything that was done to her and her daughter, what would you want?”

“Revenge,” Ree said and shuddered.

“Exactly. And she needs a conduit, a way to channel her rage.”

Ree drew her hand away. “That’s crazy. Even ghosts, even Ilsa, can’t make me do something against my will. She can’t use me unless I let her.”

Hayden’s dark eyes burned into hers. “I wish that were so, but we really have no idea what we’re up against.”

The Charleston Institute for ParapsychologyElsewhere, it’s called the Institute for Parapsychology Studies, not Paranormal Studies.

Studies was located on the fringes of the historic district, in a glorious old antebellum with long, gleaming columns and three levels of piazzas to catch the Lowcountry breezes. Hayden let himself in the side entrance and made his way down the hall. He’d called ahead to make sure Dr. Shaw would see him at so late an hour and the older man had agreed. Now he looked up curiously as Hayden entered the office, and motioned for him to take a seat. Tall and dignified, with vivid blue eyes and a shock of white hair, he’d always struck Hayden as the epitome of the slightly absentminded professor.

He steepled his fingers beneath his chin as he waited for Hayden to settle in. “You’re out and about late. Are you just returning from the cemetery?”

“I didn’t go out there tonight,” Hayden said. “Something came up. Which is why I’m here. I’m hoping you can give me some advice. I think my friend is being haunted by the ghost of a woman who was committed to a psychiatric hospital over eighty years ago.”

One brow rose ever so slightly. “I’ve always found that mental patients make for some of the most fascinating cases. Please go on.”

Quickly, Hayden told him everything Ree had experienced, starting with the Oak Grove episode and ending with her attack earlier that night. When he was finished, Dr. Shaw sat pensively for a moment.

“Where is your friend now?” he asked.

“At my place. She’ll be physically safe there, but I want to know how I can protect her from the ghost.” It was ironic, Hayden supposed, that he’d dedicated nearly ten years of his life to searching for spirits and now that he’d found one, he hadn’t a clue what to do.

“You could try a cleansing.” Hayden gave him a look and Dr. Shaw nodded. “Yes, my feeling precisely,” he muttered.

“Ree still isn’t convinced, even after everything that’s happened. She wants to believe it’s her imagination.”

“Have you seen any evidence of possession? Personality changes, addictions, depression? Not that these signs would necessarily indicate ghost or demon possession. They could also be symptomatic of mental illness.”

“I’m aware of that,” Hayden said quietly.

“Yes, of course, you would be.”

Dr. Shaw was one of the few people who knew about Jacob’s suicide, and how it had led Hayden to ghost hunting.

“As to a personality change…I haven’t known her long. I might not even notice. But my guess is, the sleepwalking episode was the first manifestation,” he said.

“A trial run, so to speak. Perhaps testing Ree’s limitations as well as her own. From what you’ve told me of Ilsa’s history, I’m afraid the likelihood of cohabitation is strong. Ghosts that invade—not just attach—are usually those spirits that were addicted to earthly pleasures.”

“So how do I protect Ree?” Hayden asked impatiently. “She’s not going to protect herself.”

“Make contact. Assuming the ghost is looking for a vehicle and not a host, you have to find a way to communicate with her so that you can determine her ultimate goal. Then you either appease her or thwart her. And if you can, locate the obstacle that’s keeping her earthbound and remove it.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“It can be, but doing nothing would be far riskier. As long as the ghost hovers in your friend’s orbit, her strength will grow as Ree’s diminishes.”

Until she becomes nothing but a shell, Hayden thought. He remembered those last days with Jacob. The sunken eyes, the hollow cheeks, the pallor of a walking corpse. And he knew he would do anything to keep that from happening to Ree.

“It may even be helpful that your friend is a nonbeliever,” Dr. Shaw said. “A negative ghost can feed off fear and make itself stronger. That’s where you come in. If Ree is the ghost’s conduit, then you must be her buffer.”

“How?”

“By drawing the entity’s attention onto you, thereby dividing her strength.”

“How?”

“Ghosts are attracted to human warmth and energy. The stronger the energy, the more irresistible the lure. In other words…” Dr. Shaw’s eyes gleamed as he leaned forward. “Generate enough heat and the ghost will come to you.”

When Hayden got home that night, Ree was so happy to see him, she threw her arms around him without thinking. “Thank God. I was worried something might have happened to you.”

“Was I gone that long?” He hugged her, too, but he looked a little taken aback by her enthusiastic greeting.

“It probably just seemed like forever.” She stepped back from him. “I took a shower. I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to get out of those bloody scrubs. This was all I could find to put on.”

His gaze dropped, taking in the cotton shirt she’d dragged out of his closet. The hem hit her below midthigh, longer than some of her skirts, but for some reason, Ree felt exposed in it.

“I don’t mind.” Now he was staring into her eyes. He had the strangest expression on his face. Bewilderment? Astonishment? She couldn’t quite read him.

“What is it?” she asked in alarm.

“I was just thinking about that night in Oak Grove Cemetery.”

“What about it?” The way he kept looking at her—as if he didn’t quite know how to read her—was a little unnerving.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asked.

“Fate?” She hadn’t expected that question.

“Do you believe that out of the entire population of the world, there are two people who are meant to be together?”

“I don’t know. I guess I never thought much about it before.”

“Think about it now. What were the chances that we would both end up in an abandoned cemetery at exactly the same time?”

“When you put it that way…”

His arms were lightly around her. Ree could have stepped from his embrace at any time, but his eyes—as dark as a midnight sea—held her enthralled. He seemed so…different.

“I think I was meant to find you that night, in that cemetery. I think the past ten years of my life led up to that exact moment.”

“You’re scaring me a little,” Ree said. “You seem…I don’t know.”

He bent and put his lips to her ear. “Don’t be afraid. This is meant to be, too.”

As his warm breath feathered over her, Ree went very still. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Could barely even think.

Hayden turned her and pulled her against him, one arm wrapping around her breasts as the other hand lifted her hair. She felt his lips against her neck and everything inside her stilled. She recognized the moment. It was time to move forward or take a step back.

Her head fell against his shoulder. “Are we crazy? We barely know each other.”

“Time is a relative concept,” he murmured.

Ree turned, wound her arms around his neck and they kissed for the longest time. When they finally broke apart, she saw that he was looking—not at her—but at something beyond her shoulder. With a shiver she glanced back. They were standing in front of a window and she could see the barest hint of frost creeping over the glass.

She could feel something in the air, too, but Hayden was lifting her so that her legs were around him and they were pressed so intimately together, she could hardly breathe. He carried her into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. Her legs were still locked around him as she fastened her mouth to his. On and on they kissed, Ree’s fingers threading through his hair, his hands sliding up the shirt to grasp her hips. She began to feel anxious and feverish and she thought she might shatter into a million pieces if he didn’t stop kissing and touching her. And if he did stop, she would die.

“No,” she whispered in protest when he lifted her off him.

He went to open the window and a breeze blew in, cool and moist and feather-soft. She lay back on her elbows, letting it skim over her as Hayden began to shed his clothes.

He came to her and she sat up, resting her cheek against his hipbone. It was so marvelously sensual, being so close but not touching him, not yet. His hands curled in her hair and they stayed that way for the longest moment. Then very lightly Ree traced a fingertip along the length of him. He shuddered, said her name. And shuddered again as she encircled him.

They fell back against the bed and she saw the gleam of silver around his neck as he rose over her. She reached for it, but he dropped his head to kiss her, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth. Then nuzzling her head to the side, he tasted the side of her neck, first with his tongue, then with his teeth. The sharp sensation shocked Ree at first, evoking something foreign yet familiar, something a little unsettling. But already the sting had subsided, and she could feel him between her legs, pushing into her and she turned dreamily toward the window. Above the open sash, the glass had frosted and for one eerie moment, Ree could have sworn she saw a pattern start to form.

But Hayden was moving inside her and with very little effort, Ree found his rhythm. It went on for a very long time. Impossibly long, it seemed to Ree. So many times she found herself on the verge, only to have him pull back, making it last and last as she dug her nails into his flesh.

The room grew cold but their bodies were molten. Mist crept in through the window. Ree felt a prickle of fear, but Hayden gathered her up in his arms and held onto her tightly as his movements became more urgent. The mist seemed almost alive now, coiling and writhing and pulsating with energy. Something told her to stop, push him away, but she couldn’t. The pleasure fed on her fear. She opened herself to him and he pressed more deeply into her, against her. With a gasp, she closed her eyes and clung to him as the mist began to envelop them.

And then it was over. An explosion of white light, and Ree was spiraling back to earth as Hayden collapsed against her with a shudder.

When she opened her eyes, they were swathed in nothing but moonlight.

Ree awakened to sunshine. She bolted upright and glanced around. It took her a moment to remember where she was. Then she saw Hayden. The bathroom door was open and he stood at the sink. He wore jeans but no shirt and his hair was still damp from the shower. She thought for a moment that he was shaving. She swung her legs over the bed and walked over to the door to watch him.

He wasn’t shaving. He stood with his hands propped against the sink, staring into the mirror. Just…staring…

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Wrong?” He was still studying his reflection. “I feel a little strange.”

“Strange how?”

“Like I just woke up from a dream.”

Was that good or bad? she wondered.

And then she saw the silver medallion dangling from his neck. Not the one she’d grabbed from her attacker last night because that medallion was in the pocket of her scrubs.

She gasped. “Oh, my God. You’re one of them.”

His gaze met hers in the mirror and for a moment, he seemed to snap out of his lethargy. “I can explain.”

Ree took a step back from the door. “What’s to explain? Are you or are you not a member of that despicable group?”

“It’s a legacy thing.” He turned to face her.

There was something so different about him. Something so odd about the way he’d been staring into that mirror…

If Ree didn’t know better, she’d swear he was a different man than the one she’d met in Oak Grove Cemetery.

Her scalp tingled in apprehension. “What does that mean? A legacy thing? You were automatically recruited because of your family’s history?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t have anything to do with us. You and me.”

As he moved toward her, sunlight sparked off the medallion. Ree averted her gaze and took another step back from him. “It doesn’t have anything to do with us? After what I told you about Ilsa? And you didn’t say anything?”

“It was so long ago, Ree.”

“What about your family? What about other initiation rituals?”

His voice turned cold. “You’re making a lot of assumptions that I don’t much care for.”

“And I don’t like that you lied to me! You know you should have told me.” She drew on the bloodstained scrubs she’d discarded the evening before. “I have to get out of here,” she muttered.

“Where are you going?” He followed her into the living room. “Come on, Ree. It’s not safe for you out there.”

She whirled at that. “I’m not sure it’s safe for me in here. How do I know you’re not the one who told Devlin where to find me yesterday? How do I know you’re not the one—” Her gaze dropped to the blood on her shirt and she shuddered.

He looked suddenly furious. “Is that what you think of me then?”

“I don’t know what to think about you, Hayden. And that’s the problem. I barely you know you.”

Ree didn’t want to believe it, but her mind was racing and things were starting to click into place. How he’d wanted to go with her to see Amelia Gray. How Detective Devlin had known she’d be at the library when she’d told no one but Hayden. On and on it went.

As she hurried out to her car, the tears started to flow. That was her only excuse for allowing danger to creep up on her. He must have been waiting for her to leave. Maybe Hayden had called him.

By the time Ree sensed his presence, it was too late. He’d seized her around the neck, pricked her with a needle and pushed her into the backseat of a waiting car.

A blinding headache awakened her. She opened her eyes and lifted her head, but a wave of nausea flattened her. She lay still for a long time before she felt strong enough to try and get up.

Panic mushroomed in her chest as she realized her arms and legs were constrained. She couldn’t move at all except for her head, which she swiveled from side to side, taking in the details of the small, antiseptic room in which she found herself. After a bit, she tried to call for help, but her tongue was too swollen. She could barely muster a groan.

She had no idea how much time had gone by before the door opened and Dr. Farrante entered. He came to the foot of her bed, hands clasped behind his back, observing her as passively as he’d studied Miss Violet’s corpse.

Ree opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

His smile was patronizing. “You can’t speak, but that’s a normal side effect of the medication. I’m afraid we’ll have to keep you sedated for a little while longer. It’s for your own good.”

He came around the side of the bed to check her pulse. When he turned, Ree saw the bandage at his neck.

His smile turned cold. “You’re in the north wing of the hospital. I’m sure you understand what that means.”

The north wing was reserved for those patients perceived to be a danger to themselves or others. For those patients that had to be physically restrained behind locked doors.

An image of Ilsa Tisdale in the dungeon came back to her and Ree wanted to scream. She turned her head from side to side in panic.

“You should have minded your own business, Miss Hutchins. None of this would have been necessary.”

None of…what?

“I can’t let you ruin things. You do understand that, don’t you? My work here is too important.”

You won’t get away with this! Ree silently raged. Her family wasn’t perfect by any means, but they were not the Tisdales. Her parents would tear this place apart until they found her.

And Hayden? Oh God, was he in on this?

She wouldn’t think about him. Not now. Maybe not ever again.

A tear seeped from the corner of her eye and ran back into her hair. She couldn’t even lift her hand to wipe it away.

Dr. Farrante meant to keep her here. Like Ilsa Tisdale, she would not be leaving that hospital alive.

A little while later, a nurse came into the room with another dose of medication. Ree could do nothing but lie there helplessly while the nurse injected her. Afterward she drifted in and out of consciousness. When her head finally began to clear, she thought that hours must have passed. It had to be dark outside because she could see the hallway through the glass panel in the door and the lights had been dimmed.

She had some feeling in her arms and legs, but she knew better than to struggle against the restraints. That would only sap her energy and she needed whatever fortitude she could muster in case an opportunity for escape presented itself.

As she tried to formulate a plan, the door opened and an orderly pushed a wheelchair through. Where were they taking her? What were they going to do to her?

Ree braced herself. This might be her only opportunity. Once the restraints were removed, she’d have her chance.

The orderly left the wheelchair and came to her side. Bending over the railing, he checked her pupils.

“Ree? Can you hear me?”

That voice!

“It’s Hayden. Are you okay? Have they hurt you?”

She shook her head.

“I’m going to get you out of here. Just hang on…”

Ree didn’t even question why he’d come for her. That would come later. Right now, she’d never been so happy to see anyone in her life.

He unfastened the straps and helped her into the wheelchair, covering her legs with a blanket. Then he wheeled her into the hallway.

“Here we go,” he muttered and began the long trek down an endless corridor.

With every step, Ree thought they would surely be stopped. Her nerve endings tingled with sensation, a good sign, but she knew she would never be able to outrun a guard or orderly. She doubted she could even stand.

As they came to the end of the hallway, the door opened and someone motioned them through. It was Trudy. “Hurry,” she said. “We don’t have all night.”

Ree glanced up at her, a question, but Trudy merely patted her shoulder. “Don’t you worry, honey. You’re in good hands.” To Hayden, she said, “This exit is always kept locked. Once we open the door, the alarm will sound. That only gives you a matter of minutes to make it to the car, much less through the front gate. I’ll try to divert them for as long as I can, but my best advice is to haul ass.”

“Thanks for all your help,” Hayden said.

“Honey, when I caught a glimpse of her in that room, I knew something was up. Lucky my cousin’s a cop. Now go.”

And then they were through the door and the wheelchair had to be ditched on the rough terrain. Hayden swept her up and carried her at a dead run as she buried her face in his neck.

By the time the floodlights came on, they were already in the car flying down the drive. The gates were open and Hayden shot through without slowing.

Ree turned to glance back.

“Sometimes it’s good to have friends in high places,” Hayden said and then he laughed as her eyes widened because he didn’t sound like Hayden at all.

He pulled to the curb in front of a large white house and killed the engine and lights. Ree had no idea where they were. She’d drifted off sometime after they’d crossed the Ravenel Bridge. She thought they might be on one of the islands.

“How are you feeling?” Hayden asked.

“Better,” she managed to say.

“Think you can walk?”

“I can try. Where are we?”

His eyes were nearly black in the dark. “Do you trust me?”

Tricky question. Ree couldn’t forget that medallion and all that it implied. On the other hand, he had rescued her from a possible lobotomy.

“I trust you,” she finally said.

He pulled her to him, kissed her hard on the lips, then got out and came around to open her door. Taking her arm, he guided her through the gate and around the house to a deck. Ree could hear water lapping at a nearby pier and she could taste brine in the breeze.

They climbed the stairs, and Hayden put a finger to his lips as voices drifted through an open door. Ree could see two men inside—Detective Devlin and Dr. Farrante. By the way Farrante reclined with an elbow on the mantel, Ree thought the house belonged to him.

Taking out his phone, Hayden pressed a number. Inside, Detective Devlin’s phone rang. As he glanced at the screen, he said slowly, “Are you sure you don’t want to change your story? You still maintain you’ve had no contact with Ree Hutchins?”

Dr. Farrante flicked a piece of lint from his jacket. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. I barely know who the woman is.”

“Well, let me refresh your memory, then.”

At his nod, Hayden took Ree’s elbow and guided her through the door.

The color drained from Farrante’s face when he saw her, but he rallied almost instantly. “I don’t know what she’s been telling you, but this young woman is completely unstable.”

“Nicholas Farrante, you’re under arrest for the false imprisonment of Reanna Hutchins. You have the right to remain silent…”

What happened next would always remain a blur for Ree. One moment Detective Devlin had reached for the cuffs attached to his belt, and in the next instant, Farrante had whipped out a weapon he’d had concealed somewhere on the mantel. A shot rang out and Hayden stumbled back, clutching his arm. Ree screamed. Devlin had a bead on Farrante, but by this time, he’d grabbed Ree about the throat, hauled her up against him and stuck the gun to her temple.

“Drop it.”

Detective Devlin’s gun clattered to the floor.

Inch by inch, Farrante backed Ree to the door as Hayden struggled to his feet. Blood ran down his arm and dripped off his fingertips. He had such unfettered rage in his eyes, he didn’t look like Hayden at all. For a moment, Ree thought…

“Don’t try it,” Farrante warned.

After all the drugs he’d pumped into her, he must not have thought Ree had any fight left in her. He loosened his grip as they reached the deck and she tried to wrench free, catching him completely off guard. She kicked at his legs and he stumbled back, teetering on the edge for what seemed an eternity. Then Hayden rushed past her and she heard the impact as he made contact with Farrante. He couldn’t have known that Farrante still held her arm. As they crashed down the stairs, Ree was jerked off her feet.

She hit the ground and lay dazed for a moment. When her vision cleared, she saw Hayden with Farrante’s gun. He held it close to his leg where Detective Devlin couldn’t see it. Oh, dear Lord…

Their gazes collided and Ree thought, that’s not him! That’s not Hayden!

“Don’t do it,” she whispered.

He merely smiled.

The detective came down the stairs and knelt beside the doctor’s prone body. “He’s dead. His neck’s broken.”

Ree saw a shadow fleet across Hayden’s face and he shuddered, as if something very cold had just touched his soul. The gun dropped to the ground as his gaze clung to hers.

Ilsa had her revenge.