Page 16 of Magic Hour


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Ellie sidled close, letting her shoulder touch his arm. “Talk to me, Max.”

“Last night, after we finished the testing, we diapered her and tucked her into the bed. This morning when she woke up, she went crazy. There’s no other word for it: crazy. Screaming, shrieking, throwing herself to the floor. She broke every lamp and smashed the mirror over the sink. When we tried to give her another injection, she bit Carol Rense hard enough to draw blood, then hid under the bed. She’s been there almost an hour. Do you have an ID on her yet?”

Ellie shook her head, then turned to Peanut. “Why don’t you go to the cafeteria? Get kid food for her.”

“Sure, send the fat girl for food.” Peanut sighed dramatically, but couldn’t help smiling. She loved to be a part of things.

When she’d gone, Max said to Ellie, “I don’t know what to tell you, Ellie. I’ve never seen a case like this.”

“Tell me what you do know.”

“Well . . . I think she’s probably about six years old.”

“But she’s so small.”

“Malnourished. Plus, she’s had no dental or medical care, and her body is pretty scarred up.”

“Scarred?”

“Little things mostly, although there’s one that looks more serious. On her left shoulder. Maybe an old knife wound.”

“Jesus.”

“I drew blood and swabbed her mouth for DNA. If it were up to me, she’d still be sedated for hydration, but you wanted a diagnosis. . . .”

“Has she spoken?”

“No, but her vocal cords look unimpaired. I’d say—and this is just a guess—that she is physically able to speak, but I can’t tell if she knows how.”

“She doesn’t know how to speak? What are you saying?”

“All I know is that her screams are unintelligible. I recorded it. There were no recognizable words. Her brain waves show no anomalies. She could well be deaf or mentally challenged or severely developmentally delayed or autistic. I can’t be sure. I’m not even sure I know what tests to run for her mental state.”

“What should we do?”

“Find out who she is.”

“Gee, thanks. I meant right now.”

He nodded toward Peanut, who was coming toward them with a tray of food. “That’s a good start.”

Ellie looked down at what Pea had chosen: a stack of pancakes, a pair of fried eggs, a waffle with strawberries and whipped cream, and a glass of milk. It made Ellie hungry.

Max said, “I’ll get an orderly to crawl under the bed and get her—”

“Just leave it on the table,” Peanut said. “She might be odd, but she’s a kid. They do things in their own way and their own time. Hell, you can’t make a two-year-old eat and they’re tiny.”

Ellie smiled at her friend. “Any other advice?”

“No more strangers. She knows you, so you should take the food in. Talk to her in a soothing voice, but don’t stay. Maybe she wants to be alone to eat.”

“Thanks.” Taking the tray, Ellie went into the brightly painted room. The metal door clicked shut behind her. “Hey, little one. It’s me again. I hope you don’t hold that whole net thing against me.” She moved cautiously forward and set the tray on one of the tables. At the movement, the keys on her belt jingled; she clamped her hand over them. “I thought you might be hungry.”

Under the bed, the girl made a growling sound. It made the hairs on the back of Ellie’s neck stand up. She tried to think of just the right thing to say, but nothing came to her, so she backed out of the room and closed the door behind her. The lock clicked loudly into place.

In the hall again, Ellie stood by Max at the window. “Will she eat it?”

He opened the girl’s chart and got out his pen. “I guess we’ll find out.”

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