Asylum (23 page)

Halfway through the lecture, Dan lost all ability to concentrate. He listened, not really understanding the words, and his hand continued to move, but he had no idea what he was writing.

When class was over, Dan looked down at his notes and bit back the urge to shout. The last few sentences weren’t in his normal script, but he recognized the looping penmanship immediately.
The warden’s
. It wasn’t enough that the warden was in his head; now he was in his
body
, too. He collected his things at lightning speed and ran out the door. If he didn’t get some fresh air, he was going to be sick.

Officer Coates stood in the sunshine waiting, and two other officers, including Teague, stood with her. Chatting with the police were the last two people on earth he expected to see.

“Mom? Dad?” Dan hugged his backpack to his chest.

“Sweetheart!” His mother ran over and wrapped him in her arms. He was surprised by how good the hug felt, and he actually had a hard time letting go. Part of him wanted to cry.

“You’re okay,” Sandy said, hugging him harder. “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

“It’s good to see you, Mom,” he said.

“Let’s take this inside.” Teague motioned toward the admissions building down the path. “We should have this conversation in private.”

This was the moment Dan had been dreading since last night. His parents walked him north up the hill, the officers following a few steps in their wake. Dan couldn’t seem to stop shaking. It didn’t matter that he believed his own innocence, it would be impossible to convince anyone else once they found out how messed up he was.…

“You just tell us if we need to call a lawyer, kiddo,” his father whispered to him. They were right outside the admissions building now.

Dan frowned. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Inside, please, if you’ll follow me,” Teague said, charging ahead.

Dan hadn’t been inside the admissions building before. It had that venerated old college feeling, with a high ceiling and slender windows and wood paneling on everything. In the front hall was a leather couch and an antique chair. Dan imagined anxious students waiting here, hoping that their college interviews went well. College seemed like a petty concern at the moment.

The police escorted them past the waiting area to a small room on the right. Teague and his parents went first, with Dan bringing up the rear. Officer Coates and another cop waited outside the door.

He was now shaking so bad he could hardly sit down without knocking over the chair.

“Okay, let’s have a chat about last night. Why don’t you start from the beginning,” Teague prompted.

His parents and the officer sat on one side of a conference table, all facing Dan. It felt like an inquisition.

Dan told the story about his searching for Felix and finding the man with the crowbar. When he described the man pinning him to the ground, he thought his mother was going to faint. Finally, he got to the part where the cops had barged in and started accusing him of the worst.

“The thing is, I really don’t remember sending those messages. I know they’re in my phone, I
know
that, and I know it sounds ridiculous, but I swear: I didn’t write those texts.”

His parents shared a worried look, and his father cleared his throat.

“Officer, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,” his father began gravely, “but what you have to understand is, Dan has always had, shall we say, difficulties. He came to us from the foster system after he’d already lived in a few other places. He’s been a great kid since then, I don’t want you to misunderstand me, but, well, he’s always needed a little extra attention. A few trips to a psychologist …”

“Therapist,”
his mother corrected.

“Therapist,” his father agreed.

The officer nodded along with the story. Dan hated talking about this stuff with his parents at all, but in the presence of someone else, a cop? It was embarrassing, frankly, and in this case, incriminating. Teague glanced at him from time to time, and he could swear he saw the officer’s jaw setting by degrees, getting stiffer as Dan’s guilt solidified in his mind.

“His therapist tells us he has some issues with memory—”

“Mild dissociative disorder,” Sandy cut in.

“But that they don’t pose any problem for him having a normal, healthy life. He’s not a dangerous kid, Officer. If he sent some text message to his buddy and then forgot about it, I’m sure it was meant to be totally harmless.”

Dan gripped the chair, struggling to look calm. How bad would it be if he blacked out right then and there?

That unreliable memory of his … How could he tell his parents that it had gotten much, much worse, in just a matter of weeks? That maybe he
wasn’t
completely harmless?

“Now Mr. and Mrs. Harold, I can’t help noticing that Dan doesn’t share your last name. Why is that?”

His parents exchanged another look. Dan wanted to sink into the floor and die.

“Well, Crawford is the name he came to us with,” his father said.

“We gave him the choice, just like our social worker said we could,” his mother said defensively. “Dan had already lived with so many families by that point. I think he just wanted to keep one thing the same—one piece of himself.”

“Hm,” Teague said. He turned to address Dan directly. “Are you aware that you have the exact same name as the last warden of Brookline asylum?”

Dan nodded. “I read about him recently, yeah.”

His parents, bless their hearts, said nothing. He had asked them about it on the phone, but now they kept silent, perhaps sensing, as Dan did, that Teague saw the strange connection as some sort of proof of his guilt.

“It’s not that unusual of a last name,” his father said. “And lord knows Daniel is common enough.”

“But what about Dan’s birth parents?” Teague asked, finally looking away from Dan. “There must be a quick way to check if there’s any relation.”

“I’m afraid it’s anything but quick,” his mother admitted. “We don’t get to see that kind of information at all, and you’d need a court order to get it yourselves. But I can’t see why it’s so important. So what if Danny
was
related to this warden? What does that prove?”

“You don’t think it’s a rather alarming coincidence?”

“I think a coincidence is
exactly
what it is, and that’s my whole point,” his mother said testily.

Dan hated to see his parents get angry, even if it was helping his case.

“Did the …” His mouth had suddenly gone so dry it was hard to speak. “Did the guy who killed Joe ever confess?”

Teague stared, taken aback. “Actually, no, he didn’t. He insists it was a wrong place, wrong time sort of thing. Still, he had the victim’s possessions and a murder weapon on him and he can’t explain that.” Teague snorted, giving Dan a look that said, “Lucky you.” The officer leaned an elbow on the desk between them. His brow lowered and Dan knew he should have kept his mouth shut. “Why do you ask?”

“Just … curious.” Dan hoped he could keep it together for a few more minutes. He felt like if he didn’t get to the bottom of this mystery now, it would plague him for the rest of his life.

It was Thursday. There were now ten days till the end of the program. “I want to finish out the program,” he said calmly.

“We’re not done questioning you yet,” Teague replied, tugging his mustache. “How you answer those questions will determine whether you get to stay or not.”

“Fair enough,” Dan said.

His father looked ready to argue, but his mother nodded. “We’ll stay in town, Danny. Just in case.”

Dan couldn’t fully explain why he wanted,
needed
, to finish this program, when there were so many reasons why he should run far, far away, as fast as he could.

Dan ending up at Brookline this summer wasn’t a coincidence, it was a connection. And he was going to leave Brookline cured if it killed him.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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CHAPTER

N
o
 31 

T
hankfully, although Teague grilled him for three more hours, nobody else seemed to think Dan was guilty. He had no motive to hurt Felix, no history of violence, and when the cops searched his dorm room, they found nothing of interest. Most importantly, Felix had woken up in the hospital and sworn that he didn’t think Dan was behind this.

Dan was totally drained by the time he was allowed to go. He walked his parents to their car and declined their invitation to eat dinner with them in town. He just wanted to be back in his room already.

Dan hadn’t gone two steps on the path toward Brookline when he saw Professor Reyes pacing next to an ash bin. She waved, cigarette in hand, beckoning him over.

“Not in cuffs, I see,” she said by way of greeting. Her brown eyes twinkled behind the thin veil of smoke that drifted up from her lips. “That’s a good sign. Looked like your parents were pretty worried about you.”

“Oh, they’re fine, it was just a little tense in there.”

Her necklace was made of opals today, as fine and white as bone. “I don’t know the particulars, but you seem like a good kid.” She shook her head, pursing her lips to blow a jet of smoke up and away from them. “Brookline just has a way of taking a hold on people—always has. It’s the self-fulfilling prophecy of madness. If someone tells you you’re crazy enough times, eventually it becomes true. It’s that old psychiatrist’s joke: insanity’s all in your head.”

Dan looked at his shoes, tempted to tell her that no, some conditions were in fact very real. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“All I’m saying is, people in town don’t want Brookline gone just because of what happened there fifty years ago.” Professor Reyes dropped her cigarette and stamped it out. The wind picked up her short dark hair, tossing it in front of her eyes. “Good luck, Dan. I hope you don’t need it.”

Abby and Jordan waited outside his door for him. They had even snuck out a pie from the cafeteria, hiding it under a Windbreaker. Rhubarb with extra whipped cream. His favorite.

They piled into his room. Abby pointed to Dan’s bed while Jordan sorted out the dessert for everyone. “Come and sit,” Abby said. “I have news and we want to hear all about your date with the cops.”

“Thanks,” Dan said, taking a bite out of his pie. “It’s been a hellish day.”

“The cops work you over?” Jordan asked.

“They were pretty decent, actually. My parents were there, which helped.”

“Seriously?” Abby said anxiously. “They’re not making you leave, are they?”

“No, I can finish the program. So at least there’s that. And Felix saved my ass, too. I guess he told the cops he ߢdidn’t think I was a threat.’”

Dan decided not to tell them about the rest of it. Right now he needed them on his side.

“Dan, I’m so sorry,” Abby murmured, shifting her chair closer. “But at least you’re not in trouble. That’s good, right?”

“It is, yeah. So what was your news?” Abby lit up. Dan was grateful for a reason to stop talking about himself and she looked ready to pop with excitement.

“The news is that I’ve decided to come clean about Lucy to my father,” she said, bouncing in her chair. “It’s time he knew about her, that I’ve picked up the trail. He deserves to know the truth. I mean, I would want to, wouldn’t you?”

“Wow,” said Dan. He couldn’t tell if it was the exhaustion or something else keeping him from matching Abby’s excitement. “Are you sure that’s a good idea right now?”

“What?” Abby asked slowly. “Why would it not be a good idea? She’s his sister! I’m hoping he might even want to help me find her.”

“You don’t think it’s sort of coming out of nowhere? I mean, the shock and all … What if he doesn’t believe you?”

“I’d freak if it were me. I mean, it’s been so many years.…” Jordan added.

“No, it has to be this way,” Abby replied with a little nod of finality. “I’m not going to keep this from him, I just can’t. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Maybe this is harsh,” Jordan responded. “But as your friend, I feel it’s my duty to state for the record that I think your idea is pants-on-head crazy.”

“And as your … other friend … I’m sorry to say I second that motion.” Dan raised his hand in the air.

“Well, neither of you gets a say!” she shot back, shoving her pie aside. “It’s my decision, and it’s
my
father. I just thought you guys would be happy for me. With everything that’s happened at this horrible place, I thought this could be something good to come out of it.” She stood, dusting off her hands. “I’m calling him,” she said, adjusting the zipper on her paint-splattered sweatshirt. “He’s going to know the truth about Aunt Lucy. Tonight.”

Abby turned and swept out of his room in a huff. Jordan cocked an eyebrow at him, as if to say, what, you’re not going after her?

But Dan was exhausted, and after his long day of questioning, he was dying for a moment alone. Plus, there was something he desperately needed to check. Something he’d been trying not to think about since class that morning. Jordan seemed to get the hint.

“Well, you know where to find me, I guess,” he said, letting himself out and closing the door behind him.

Immediately, as if he were ripping off a Band-Aid, Dan reached into his backpack and pulled out his class notebooks. He flipped to the page of notes he’d taken today, when he’d caught himself writing in the looping script of the warden. On the bottom of the page he’d written:

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.—Albert Einstein

Fighting the urge to throw up, Dan tore through the rest of his notebooks, scanning the pages for any more disturbing asides. Sure enough, he found a sentence in his History of Psychiatry notes attributed to Aristotle. It was possible Professor Reyes had put this quote up on the board for them to copy down, but he definitely didn’t remember writing it, and the script wasn’t his: