“Too young.”
“You think he’s still alive, don’t you?” The bluntness of it shocks me. I pause too long. “He’s gone, Emma, remember? You saw, we all saw. We buried him. He is not somewhere out there. This isn’t him, it isn’t someone he’s sent. I don’t know what this is but it’s not that.” I break from his gaze and stare out at the sparkling forest. “It’s some kind of misunderstanding. Or it’s a trick, Em.”
“It’s not a trick, Joe.” If there’s one thing I know for certain it’s that my patient isn’t lying. “He really can’t remember. He wouldn’t be able to fake the scans I put him through yesterday.”
“Then he must have picked these ideas up somewhere else, right? Overheard things? Someone might be putting him up to it.”
“That’s what I thought. But that still means someone at the hospitalknows. That they knew I was coming even before I got there. Which is weird, Joe. My patient said my name the first time we met.”
“But you said he only started talking yesterday!”
“Officially yes. I didn’t mention it to anyone at the time, but he said my name on my first day. I heard him. He whispered it.”
“He what?” Joe frowns. “Whispered it? Are you sure?”
“He mumbled it. It wasn’t threatening or anything.”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you say anything?” He stares at me, incredulous.
I look away, down at the hot chocolate in my hand. My fingers are freezing. “You know why, Joe. And…because I thought maybe…maybe I’d imagined it.”
“Bloody hell, Em! You really shouldn’t be back here, should you?”
“I know, Joe, I know. Please, just help me out. I need you to help me out here.”
“Okay. Okay. So.” He shakes his head with disbelief and refocuses on the facts. “Someone at that hospital knew you were coming here before you arrived, because your patient was there days before you even agreed to treat him. And this someone knew that Emma Lewis was Marni Beaufort? How would they know that, Emma? The police are the only people who know we changed our names. And that was years ago. It’s protected information. How could anyone find out?”
I think of Chris. Chris the policeman, with his database and his searches.Shit.
I can’t tell Joe about Chris. “But that’s not all of it. I—oh God, this is going to sound so insane—but I think he might be dangerous.”
“What, who? Your patient?”
“Yeah, I’m not supposed to talk about him, I signed an NDA, but the government seems to think he could possibly have some kind of a military background. They won’t tell me. It’s classified.”
Joe slams his empty mug down hard onto the snow-covered table. “What the hell is going on up here? You shouldn’t be being asked to do things like this. It’s—you don’t have training in that—”
Suddenly my pager buzzes to life in my pocket.
The hospital.
I throw a look to Joe as I fish it out and check the display. “Shit. One second. I need to call them.”
He eyeballs me as I rise and head deeper into the garden.
“Hi, it’s Dr. Lewis,” I answer. “Oh, okay, really? I see…I see. Um, okay, well, is there someone in particular I should be speaking to? Right, okay, right, and can I speak to DC Barker now?” I lock eyes with Joe as I say this new name; his eyebrows rise.
“Okay,” I continue into the receiver. “Wait! No! No, sorry…No. I donotgive my consent to that, at all. No. I’d have to discuss…Well. I understand that, of course. Right, well, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Right. Thank you for letting me know.” I hang up and turn to Joe.
“The Metropolitan Police are at the hospital, they’ve taken over from the local police force. Apparently, now they think he’s some boy that went missing—abducted—in the early nineties. The police have got a social worker with them and they’re trying to get access to the ward right now. Apparently, they want to question him about it before he meets the parents.”
“Jesus Christ,” Joe exclaims. “First they think he’s a soldier and now he’s some missing kid?”
“God knows what evidence they think they have, Joe, but he is not ready for this kind of shit. Even the most basic questioning is triggering panic attacks. If they wade in, with no proper medical training, and start questioning him about being held in captivity for almost thirty years—God knows what kind of trauma that’ll cause. Especially if they’re right about it!”
I dash into the house and grab my car keys, Joe following after, incredulous. “Stop, Em! Just stop! Stop what you’re doing!” he barks, bringing me instantly to a standstill. Joe never raises his voice. “Em, listen to me. This situation is insane.” I read the concern on his face. “You should not be putting yourself through this, there’s no need for it, let someone else do this job. You shouldn’t have come back here. I know we talked it through before you agreed, but I didn’t realize it would be like this—with the police and press and what’s been going on with this particular patient—plus, I thought you were in a better place yourself, Em. Ithought—no, youmademe think—you would be able to handle all of this, coming back here.”
“Icanhandle it, Joe,” I protest fiercely, but I know I’m lying. Because Joe wouldn’t be here if I could handle it, would he?Shit.
