The Blackstone Chronicles - By John Saul Page 0,31
the charade they were playing out—that they had eyes only for each other—they weren’t fooling her at all.
They weren’t just watching her.
They were plotting against her.
A plot Lorena wouldn’t—couldn’t—let succeed.
The woman’s eyes flicked nervously to the patient who had been sitting in the dayroom, unmoving, from the moment she and the doctor slipped in to steal a few minutes alone together. When the doctor had first suggested to the woman that she volunteer to spend a few hours each week at the Asylum, the idea hadn’t appealed to her at all. In fact, though she’d never admitted it to anyone, she’d always been a little afraid of the forbidding building on the top of North Hill. But the more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that her lover was right—as a volunteer, no one would question her reasons for coming up here. Her husband would be none the wiser, and her friends would be completely thrown off the scent.
Today, as she had nearly every day since the affair had begun a month ago, she’d driven up the hill to offer her services. She had talked to some of the patients, read a story to an odd little boy, played cards with a sad-eyed old man. All the time waiting for her lover to appear. Then, there he was, taking her gently by the arm, escorting her through the corridors until finally, a little while ago, they’d come into this room, which was empty save for the woman in the chair.
“She doesn’t even know we’re here,” he assured her, slipping his arms around her and pulling her toward him, his lips nuzzling at her throat. Despite the thrill of excitement that ran through her body, the woman pulled away from him, her eyes flicking toward the patient in the chair.
“What’s wrong with her?” she asked. “Why doesn’t she move?”
“She’s delusional.” He glanced at the patient. “She thinks if she holds still, her ‘enemies’ can’t see her.” Reaching into the pocket of his white coat, he pulled out a small box. “I have something for you.” He put the box into her hands. “Something to celebrate our being together.”
The woman gazed at the pale blue box, recognizing its origin immediately. Her heart beating a little faster, she undid the white silk ribbon and lifted off the lid. Inside there was a soft velvet pouch; inside the pouch was a tiny locket.
In the shape of a heart, it was covered with silver filigree, and when she pressed on the tiny catch to open it, the woman found a lock of hair pressed under the glass where a picture could have gone.
Taking the locket from the woman’s hands, the doctor unhooked its chain and, as she turned around, placed the chain around her neck and fastened it. As she turned back to face him, he leaned down and pressed his lips against her neck.
A flush of heat coursed through her body; the woman closed her eyes.
Lorena watched it all—watched them whisper to each other, watched them glance at her, then watched them whisper again. She watched the woman open the box and take out the locket; watched her open it. As the “doctor” put it around the woman’s neck, Lorena suddenly knew what was contained inside the silver heart.
Lies.
The locket was filled with lies about her, lies that the woman would carry out and spread among her enemies.
As the “doctor” bent down once more to whisper into the woman’s ear, Lorena leaped from the chair and scuttled across the room, her fingers already extended so that before the woman could turn away, Lorena had already snatched the locket from her neck, the thin silver chain breaking.
She backed away, the locket clutched in her hand, her wary eyes watching to see what they would do.
The “doctor” moved toward her. “Give it to me,” he said quietly, holding out his hand.
Lorena backed farther away, her fingers clenched on the tiny locket.
“What’s she going to do with it?” she heard the woman ask.
As the “doctor” moved toward her once again, Lorena edged backward until the wall stopped her, then scrabbled crabwise along the wall until she could go no farther. Cornered, she watched the “doctor” move closer to her. Her eyes flicked over the room, searching for some means of escape, but there was none. The “doctor” reached toward her once again, but Lorena, far more clever than he, had already figured out what to do.