quickly, “In fact, Agent Savich, there is little reason for us to keep her in the hospital much longer. She can return home with you so long as you’re there to watch her yourself. I would be surprised if any of her symptoms worsen at this point, but if anything concerns you, bring her back to the hospital. I’m being paged to the ER. I’m sure I’ll see you later. Dr. Hicks, a pleasure to meet you.”
When they were alone again, Dr. Hicks said, “All right, Savich, talk to me, tell me why I’m here. I know you’re worried about her, but that’s not all of it.”
“All right, if she still can’t remember when she wakes up, could you hypnotize her, help her piece her memory back together?”
“Ah, naturally, you would try to sort through every possibility. I could hypnotize her, of course, but I’d much rather err on the side of caution than plow ahead and try to attempt to force her to reconnect with all those memories before she’s ready. There’s a chance I might do harm. Her brain’s been badly shaken, shocked, and though the scans show no visible damage, there is damage nonetheless, too subtle to be seen. The brain is a wonder we barely understand, and it will repair itself without me. So let’s leave hypnosis off the table for the time being. We need to give her time, Savich, we need to simply wait.”
9
* * *
GAFFER'S RIDGE, VIRGINIA
WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON
Carson DeSilva didn’t want to die. When she awoke, her head pounding from the blow, she found herself propped up against a concrete wall. She couldn’t move. She held still until the pain began to lessen. She saw her legs were straight out in front of her, her ankles bound tight with duct tape. Her arms were pulled behind her, her wrists taped together, with more duct tape, she imagined, and her hands and arms ached fiercely. She forgot the pain in her head as terror from the attack froze her. Her world shrank, turned dark, and she knew deep down more violence was coming. She would die, simply die, and no one would know. She was only twenty-eight years old and she’d be dead, simply gone. Forever. Despair slammed deep. She wanted to scream, howl at the unfairness of it all, but she didn’t have enough spit in her mouth to make it worthwhile.
Stop it, Carson! You can figure this out, you always do. Don’t you dare give up or I’ll disown you. It was her mother’s voice, usually bright as Christmas bells, but now it was low and persistent in her ear—Carson, get yourself together, handle the head pain, you can do this, get yourself free, you have no choice.
And so she forced herself to take deep breaths to slow down her galloping heart. She could handle the pain in her head. She could do this. Her mother was right, she had no choice.
She looked around. She was in a basement—a concrete floor, naked pipes overhead, an ancient refrigerator against the far wall maybe fifteen feet away, beside the dozen wooden stairs leading up into shadows. Luckily, he’d left on the naked low-watt light bulb overhead or she’d be blind as well as duct-taped. She saw a stainless steel double sink on the far wall, shelves above it lined with cobwebbed mason jars and defunct tools, other odds and ends of past life. She shuddered at the thought of what was in those decades-old jars. There was nothing else, only the overwhelming stench of stale dead air. Was this basement in his house? The man who’d attacked her? Yes, she knew who’d struck her down, even though he’d bashed her on the back of the head. It was the same man she’d heard thinking at her loud and clear as she’d stood in front of Ellerby’s Market, two bags of groceries in her arms. She’d nearly stumbled over with the shock. It was amazing, impossible, that it was happening again right in front of a grocery store in the small Southern town of Gaffer’s Ridge, of all places. She’d only just arrived from New York for a few days’ stay to interview a Nobel Prize–winning scientist for her employer, Aquino Communications. It was as if he’d been inside her head, or she inside his. It had happened to her a few times before, always unbidden, always unexpected. She’d gasped with shock at what she’d heard, and whispered, “The girls—what did you do to the