Victoria Enright and Rafe Winchester dropped out of school—and apparently disappeared from public record—after doing a work-study project in the Duke Psychology department coinciding with the dates of the Folger Experiment.
She stood and pawed through her roller bag for the 1965 yearbook. She flipped the pages of the yearbook and looked down at the photo of the dark-haired girl and the sharp-eyed young man, seated across from each other at the table with the Zener-card board between them. Victoria and Rafe. She was sure of it.
Two students dropped out and were never heard from again. One famous guest lecturer dead. And another student who, while he might have graduated, is not like the other boys and girls …
Laurel stopped her restless pacing and looked at her desk. She approached it with reluctance and looked down at the last name on her list of alumni.
Then she picked up the phone again and called her mother.
She spoke as soon as she heard Meredith’s voice. “I want to know about Uncle Morgan.”
There was an icy silence on her mother’s side. “Know what?” Meredith said finally.
“You know what I’m asking, Mom. What’s wrong with him?”
There was a long silence, then Meredith sighed. “You’re the psychologist, darling, what do you think?
“But I don’t know,” Laurel said in frustration. “Was he always this way? Or did something happen to him?”
“He was always sensitive—”
“I’m not talking about sensitive—”
“Please, Laurel,” Meredith said sharply. “Let me speak. He was always sensitive,” she said again. “But he changed.”
“When was that?” Laurel held her breath. She could feel her mother thinking on the other end of the phone, the other side of the country.
“The year I graduated. The year I left,” Meredith said slowly, and there was the heaviness of guilt in her voice.
“Nineteen sixty-five,” Laurel said. She felt hollow to the core. She sat down on the small sofa next to the window. “Mom, did Uncle Morgan ever mention taking part in a study called the Folger Experiment?”
Another silence on the phone as her mother considered. “Not that I recall. Remember, Laurel, I was only in high school. Your aunt and uncle were already at college and I only really saw them on holidays—”
“But when did you notice that Uncle Morgan had changed?”
Meredith took so long to answer that Laurel thought she wouldn’t. “He came home from school in the spring, just before I graduated. I wasn’t able to see him; Mama and Daddy said he was sick, they said he was in the hospital.” She laughed shortly, not a pleasant sound. “I suppose that could have meant just about anything, couldn’t it? A sanitarium, some equivalent of a drug treatment center. You have to remember the times—the whole world had gone crazy. And I was having my own rebellion; I wasn’t the easiest child in the world … not like you.”
That last admission startled Laurel so much she lost her train of thought for a moment. She willed herself back to focus. “But you never heard anyone mention the Folger House, or the Folger Experiment, or a Dr. Leish?”
“No.” Laurel could hear the frown in Meredith’s voice. “Why? Do you think the school involved Morgan in some kind of testing? Mind-altering drugs?”
For a moment Laurel thought of Rafe Winchester’s sister, raving about drugs and degradation.
Drugs, no, Laurel thought. But mind-altering? Maybe.
“I don’t know, Mom. Do you know the name Rafe Winchester? Or Victoria Enright?”
Laurel could picture the abstract concentration in her mother’s face as she paused to consider. “I think Morgan dated a girl named Victoria. Before he dropped out of school.”
Dated? Now that could lead somewhere. But …
“But Uncle Morgan didn’t drop out,” Laurel said aloud. “He’s listed by the registrar as having graduated.”
“Well, maybe I’m wrong,” her mother said wearily. “He left school before my graduation, anyway, because he was too sick to go. That’s what they said …” She was silent again, and then her voice changed. “What good is it to dredge all these things up, Laurel? Your uncle’s made his way. He’s comfortable. And I don’t want you bothering him with any of this, opening old wounds. I mean that. Promise me.”
Laurel swallowed. “I won’t, Mom.”
“Life isn’t always kind. Just leave it be.”
Laurel put the phone down and stood, lost in a chaos of thoughts. Two students traumatized. One disappeared. A famous researcher dead. And a lab closed down permanently, with all records sealed.
What in God’s name happened in that house?
A bell suddenly rang, loud and sharp. Laurel jumped, her pulse skyrocketing—before she realized