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  “What kind of anger management issues?”

  “He gets violent, verbally abusive. We believe he’s mutilated animals before, though he won’t admit to it.”

  Dr. McIntosh looked very serious. “We do take those kinds of cases,” he said, “though the fee is higher, due to the staffing required to make sure they don’t present a danger to themselves or others.”

  “I understand,” Carrie said. “Do you have a lot of experience with those kinds of cases?”

  “We do.” He launched into an explanation of their treatment and schedule. After a couple of minutes, I interrupted to excuse myself to use the restroom.

  “Down the hall and to the right,” he said. “And please don’t wander.”

  “Of course,” I lied.

  I bypassed the restroom and headed for the stairs. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, maybe a file room or office, something that would have a record of Steven’s stay. It’d be real handy to just ask the staff, but I knew HIPAA rules would prevent them from disclosing anything about him to me.

  On the second floor was a long corridor stretching out to either side, lined by what I assumed were patients’ rooms. The key to breaking in anywhere is to look like you belong there. Any kind of sneaking or looking furtively around would be like a flashing neon sign to anyone who spotted me.

  With that in mind, I walked down the corridor at a good clip, hoping one of the rooms wouldn’t just be a patient room, and it wasn’t until the very last doorway that I was rewarded.

  OFFICE was printed in block letters across the frosted glass window and I turned the brass knob, knowing it was probably locked…and it was.

  “Shit,” I muttered.

  “Who are you?”

  I jumped and spun around, knowing as I did so that I looked guilty as sin. So much for my great plan to blend in and look like I belonged.

  A guy stood there: maybe twenty years old, a few inches taller than me. He was thin, too thin for his frame, and his eyes were shadowed. But he didn’t look angry at spotting me, just curious.

  “I-I’m Sage,” I said. “Who are you?”

  “Jerrod, but my friends call me TJ,” he said.

  “What’s the T stand for?”

  “Trouble.”

  Okay then.

  “Are you new here?” he asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, and I’m damn sure I would’ve noticed.” He smiled crookedly, showing a dimple in his cheek. He was cute and the smile made his eyes less sad.

  “I’m…visiting,” I said. “What about you? How long have you been here?”

  “I’ve been in and out of here since I was twelve,” he said with a shrug, his smile fading. “I suppose one of these days they’ll just give up and throw away the key.”

  The way he said it was so resigned, the look in his eyes so full of hopelessness that it made my chest hurt. Instinctively, I reached out to touch his arm.

  “Don’t say that,” I said. “Things can get better. They will get better. You have to believe that. Your family wouldn’t send you here if they didn’t have that hope for you.”

  He glanced down at my fingers on his bare arm and I hurriedly pulled my hand back, heat creeping into my cheeks. “Sorry about that,” I said. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to touch without asking.

  “No, don’t apologize,” he said. “It’s been a long time since a beautiful girl touched me.” The sheepish grin was back. “So tell me why you’re trying to get into the office.”

  I swallowed, debating. Something instinctively told me I could trust TJ. And he’d been around this place for a while, if I were to believe his story.

  “I’m looking for information on a former patient,” I said. “A Steven Shea. Do you know him?”

  TJ’s smile was gone again. “Yeah, I knew him,” he said. “If I’m fucked up, he’s a psycho lunatic. Crazy, sick bastard. He was here for a couple of years, then he left. That was maybe three years ago? Haven’t seen him since.”

  “What can you tell me about him?” I asked. “Why was he sent here? Did his family come visit?”

  “We were roommates for a while,” TJ said. “Until they moved him into a room by himself. He was really pissed when they first brought him here. Tried to escape, hurt a couple of workers. They threatened to turn him over to the State.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was smart. Knew it’d be even worse there, so he settled down. He quit doing the drugs, which took the edge off, but he never stopped being a dangerous fucker.” TJ suddenly looked abashed. “Sorry for the language.”

  I couldn’t help a smile. “It’s okay.” I refocused. “Why do you say he never stopped being dangerous?”

  “He had a way of making sure no one messed with him,” TJ said. “There was a guy who took a real dislike to him, gave him a lot of shit in front of people. One day he was missing a finger. It’d been totally sliced off. He never said what happened, but he never so much as looked at Steven again.

  “Some of the nurses would refuse to deal with him,” he continued. “Though they’d never say why. After a while, everyone just tried to pretend Steven didn’t exist.”

  Considering how Steven had scared the crap out of me in his office, I could understand the desire to stay far away from him. “Did he ever have any visitors?”

  “Just his dad,” TJ said. “Though there was some girl he obsessed over. Said she was his wife, but I always thought he was full of shit because no girl ever came to see him.”

  “And they just let him go?” I asked.

  “Said he was cured, I guess.” TJ shrugged. “Up and checked himself out one day. I never heard from him again.”

  “He could just leave?”

  “Some people are here voluntarily,” he said. “Some aren’t.”

  “Okay, well, thank you, TJ. You’ve been very helpful.”

  His smile was sweet. “I don’t suppose you’ll be coming back anytime?”

  “I’m sorry, but no, probably not.”

  TJ looked somewhat crestfallen and I impulsively leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Take care of yourself,” I said. “I really appreciate you talking to me.”

  “Talk to a beautiful girl for a few minutes? Not really a hardship.”

  That coaxed a smile from me, which quickly faded when I heard footsteps and voices on the stairs.

  “I’ve gotta go,” I said, glancing around, but there was only the one staircase. I didn’t know what they’d say about me exploring on my own, much less talking to a patient without permission, and I didn’t want to find out.

  “This way,” he said, reaching out and grasping my hand. He pulled me with him into an open room that looked like a lounge. A couple of guys were at a table playing cards and they looked up as we hurried past.

  “There’s a back staircase through here,” he said, stopping in front of a door.

  “But there’s a keypad,” I said. “Isn’t it locked?”

  He winked at me. “Of course it’s locked.” He punched in six numbers and the door clicked open. “Lucky for you, I’ve been around here a while.”

  I hurried through the door. “Thanks, TJ. I’ll see you.”

  “Bye, Sage.”

  I hurried down the stairs as the door closed behind me. Voices floated in the air.

  “Has anyone seen a woman come through here? Tall, long brown hair?”

  I stopped in my tracks, listening.

  “Nope. Why? You guys lose another patient?”

  I didn’t recognize the voice as TJ’s, so it must have been one of the two guys playing cards.

  “TJ, why are you by the door? Going somewhere?” The question had an edge to it.

  “At some point, but probably not today,” TJ retorted.

  I let out the breath I’d been holding and kept going, keeping my steps as light as I could. So my disappearance had been noticed. Well, at least I’d gotten information worth our trip.

  The door at the bottom opened into the courtyard behind th
e house and I stepped out onto a cobblestone path. Slowing my pace and my breathing, I strolled through the manicured flowerbeds, stopping at a pond filled with koi and lily pads.

  “There you are.”

  I turned and saw May heading toward me, her steps purposeful. The warm, friendly smile was gone and now I saw more than a hint of Nurse Ratched.

  “We’ve been looking for you,” she said when she was closer. “I believe Dr. McIntosh warned you not to wander off. Not all of our patients respond well to strangers.”

  “If my brother is going to be staying here, surely a tour of the grounds isn’t off limits,” I fired back. “But it doesn’t matter. We need to be going anyway. We have other appointments today.”

  I caught sight of Dr. McIntosh and Carrie walking down the steps from the back. She saw me at the same time and waved. I watched as they shook hands and Carrie headed my way.

  “Thank you for your time, May,” I said. “We’ll be leaving now.” I turned toward Carrie, effectively dismissing May. We didn’t speak until we were in the car.

  “Did you find out anything?” Carrie asked.

  I nodded. “Steven was here for a couple of years dealing with drug addiction and anger management. He was violent and cunning.” I paused. “And married.”

  Carrie’s brows flew up. “Married? Really? I never heard anything about Steven Shea being married.”

  “Neither have I. But supposedly she never came to visit him while he was here.”

  “I wonder if she’s still around,” Carrie said.

  “I’m thinking the same thing. If we can find her, maybe she’d be key to calling off Steven. If she was married to him, surely she’d know all the dirt.

  “Marriage records are available to the public,” I said. “The Cook County Clerk’s Office would probably be the best place to start.”

  “Then that’s where we’ll go.”

  Two hours later, we were fighting downtown traffic as we jockeyed for a parking spot outside the Clerk’s Office.

  “I’ll just hop out and go in,” I said. “Go on back to the office and I’ll grab a cab.”

  “You sure?”

  The person in the car behind us laid on their horn. I hopped out of the car and leaned back in so Carrie could hear me over the blaring noise. “I’m sure. I’ll be back soon.” I shut the door and she drove off. I made sure to signal my irritation to the horn-blower as he went by and he responded in kind. Jerk.

  It took longer than I expected to search the records, because I had no idea of the time frame when Steven would’ve been married. All I had was his name, so I wasn’t surprised when I turned up nothing, despite digging through archive records for the past decade.

  “Need some help on that Steven Shea?” The woman who’d shown me the computer database had come to check on me.

  “I’m not finding anything,” I explained. “Though I’m pretty sure there’s a marriage record.”

  “These are the computer records and much more easily searched,” she said. “But everything is still on paper. It’s possible, though unlikely, that something was missed. If you want to take a look, I can show you where those are kept.”

  “That’d be great, thanks.”

  She took me down a staircase to the basement. I followed her down a hallway, her low heels clacking on the concrete floor, and she unlocked a door. Stepping inside, she turned on the lights. The fluorescent bulbs flickered to life, showing row after row of filing cabinets.

  “They’re by year,” she said, “so maybe searching won’t be easier, but if it’s not here, it didn’t happen.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  “We close at four,” she said. “I’ll lock the door behind me so you can just leave when you’re through without hunting me down.”

  After she left, I stared at the aisles of dull gray filing cabinets and sighed. “Good thing I sent Carrie on back,” I muttered. I’d had no idea I’d take this long.

  I started at three years ago and quickly found out that a) a lot of people got married in Cook County and b) a lot of their last names began with S. After my third paper cut, I was gritting out curse words and wondering if I wasn’t on a wild goose chase.

  A decade ago, Steven Shea would’ve been nineteen. Old enough to marry. Or maybe it had all been a figment of his imagination. Maybe TJ was right and he hadn’t married at all, which meant I was looking for a ghost.

  It wasn’t until I reached that ten-year mark and was digging through musty records in the far reaches of the cavernous room that I actually found a lead.

  “It’s about time,” I muttered, pulling out a thin folder for Shea, S.

  The sound of the door closing up front made me look up. Had that lady come back? I glanced at my watch. It was nearly five o’clock. Crap. Not good.

  “Hey, I’m almost done,” I called out, flipping open the file.

  It took me a moment to realize no one had answered me.

  “Hello?” I called again, frowning as I listened hard.

  Nothing. Then I heard the slight scuff of a shoe.

  The hair on the back of my neck rose. Someone was in here with me, and they didn’t want me to know it.

  As quietly as I could, I stuffed the file inside my purse and got to my feet from where I’d been crouching on the floor. Reaching down, I slipped off my heels, carrying them in one hand as I crept down the aisle.

  The lights went off.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I froze, blinking rapidly to try and get my eyes to adjust. If I’d had any doubts as to whether I was imagining things, they were now gone. Someone had turned off the lights and was sneaking around the room…hunting me.

  Every noise I made seemed amplified, from the rustle of my skirt to my rapid breathing. I reached the end of the aisle and waited, straining my ears. I took a step just as I heard the gunshot. Papers exploded inches from my shoulder and I cried out, instinctively ducking. Then I ran.

  Running down the aisle toward the door, I heard the footsteps behind me. Just as I reached the end of the row, I turned, grabbed the metal stand housing the file cabinets, and heaved. For a terrifying second it didn’t budge, then it began to topple as though in slow motion.

  Drawers flew open as the stand fell and I heard a man grunt in pain. Metal slammed against metal, but I didn’t wait to see how or if he got himself out. I got to the door and turned the knob.

  It was locked. Someone had thrown a dead bolt on the outside.

  I looked around frantically for anything I could use to get out. I could hear the man digging out from the stacks. Lacking any other option, I gripped my shoe tightly and, using the heel, I smashed it into the glass window. Luckily, it wasn’t shatterproof glass and it broke easily. Thrusting my hand through, I twisted the dead bolt and flung open the door.

  The hallway was deserted—government employees gone at the stroke of quitting time—and the corridor stretched endlessly in front of me.

  I didn’t hesitate. I ran. An EXIT sign glowed over a door at the far end. But there was nowhere in between and I was a sitting duck.

  The door banged open and I chanced a quick glance behind me…just enough to see the gun pointed in my direction.

  I dodged to the left as a shot rang out. Twenty more feet and I’d be at the door. My pocket buzzed. Someone was calling me. I dodged back to the right as I yanked the phone out. I didn’t even look at the screen, just hit the button and talked.

  “Please help me!”

  Another gunshot barely missed. Panic was taking over, adrenaline flooding my body in a chilling rush through my veins. Ten feet.

  “Sage? Are you—”

  Parker. But he cut out.

  “Help…” I gasped, putting forth one last burst of speed to shove through the exit door. My hand hit the crossbar and it flew open, crashing into the wall with a loud metal bang.

  “—wrong? What’s happen—”

  He cut out again. My signal was crap in here. “Someone’s shooting at me.”


  “Carrie sent me to get you,” Parker said, and this time his voice was clear. “I’m out front of the Clerk’s Office, but the building is locked.”

  “I’m coming out the side exit,” I said, my bare feet flying up the flight of stairs leading to the outside. “Please, Parker…” I was near tears, terrified that whoever was shooting was following me and that I’d feel the bite of a bullet in my back at any second.

  “I’m here.”

  I shoved open the door and burst outside. An arm snagged me around the waist, lifting me off my feet. I yelped in surprise, twisting until I could see his face.

  Parker had me.

  “Thank God,” I breathed, relief flooding me. I gripped the lapels of his jacket, resting my forehead against his shoulder.

  “What’s going on?” he asked. “Who’s shooting at you?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, stepping away now and pulling on him. “Let’s just go. Please.” I couldn’t bear the thought of Parker intervening and something possibly happening to him. Fear still had a grip on my mind.

  “It’s okay. Just tell me where you saw him last. Was it a man?”

  “Please, let’s go,” I said, starting to cry. I felt hysterics coming on and tried not to let it show. “Please don’t go in there. Just take me home.” I pulled again on his arm, tugging him away from the door and the building.

  His hand closed over mine. “Okay, okay,” he said soothingly. “We’ll go. I’ll get you out of here right now.”

  “Yes, thank you.” This time when I tugged on his hand, he came along. His other hand held his gun.

  I couldn’t get away fast enough and was glad Parker’s car was parked right there on the street. He bundled me inside, rounded the car, and slid behind the wheel. It wasn’t until we were roaring down the street that I felt I could breathe normally again.

  “Start at the beginning,” he ordered.

  I told him about Carrie and me going to the institution to look for information on Steven, then about how he’d been married and our reasoning that his wife would know more about him than we would.

  “First of all,” he said when I was through, “you shouldn’t have been trying to investigate Steven. He’s dangerous. Everything I just did was to keep you safe. Then you go throw all of it away in a hope you’ll find some kind of smoking gun?”