Page 49 of The Locked Ward

There is so much you need to tell Mandy. But first you ask a question: “How did you get that picture?”

Sparks practically shoot out of her eyes. “How did you ?”

You’ve upset her deeply. This is good. It shows she cares.

She deserves the truth, but that’s not why you give it to her. You need her to follow the lead you’re offering. “Through a private investigator.”

She takes that in, emotions tangling on her lovely face. “How did you even know about me in the first place?”

You can’t let her derail this conversation. You gently steer her back on track, asking: “Did you see the other videos he took?”

You keep your head slightly bent and your hand rubbing your temple, as if you have a never-ending itch, to block anyone looking at the camera from reading your lips.

“Why?” Mandy asks.

She’s not going to give up anything willingly. You tamp down on your impatience; if she walks out, you’re done for.

“One showed you going into a bookstore and buying The Age of Innocence .”

“And then you bought it.” She’s bristling.

“So we could share an experience. That’s all it was.”

A patient who Patty told you tried to burn down a shopping mall passes in front of the open doorway, then halts and stares at Mandy. She shuffles into the room, moving so slowly she could be underwater. An aide swoops in and redirects her back into the hallway.

“I’ve got another picture for you.” Mandy displays it like a winning ace in a game of blackjack.

It’s a photo of a couple who look to be in their late fifties. The man’s arm is around the woman and they’re both smiling. They have kind faces. They’re strangers to you.

“Who are they?”

She folds her arms. “You mean to tell me you found out what I was reading but you didn’t learn anything about my parents?”

“Only that they’d died… That was as far as the PI went.”

“‘Protect me always.’” She utters the phrase like a challenge.

You have no idea what she’s talking about.

Her gaze darts to the doorway behind you.

You shift your eyes and spot Opal, a nurse in burgundy scrubs, standing there.

She’s either new or was taking time off when you arrived; you’ve never seen her before today, when she introduced herself to the patients at breakfast. You would’ve remembered her by her hair.

It must be waist-length because even though she has pulled it up, her bun is the size of a cantaloupe.

“How are we doing, ladies?” she asks.

“Fine.” Mandy sounds annoyed.

Opal lingers in the doorway for several more agonizingly long seconds.

The minute she’s gone, Mandy hisses: “Who gave you that statue of St. Michael?”

You blink hard. This isn’t how today is supposed to go. Mandy is asking all the wrong questions.

You tell her the truth: You don’t know. You can’t remember a time when you didn’t have it.

Mandy stares at your face as intently as if she’s trying to see into your soul.

Then she leans forward. “Tell me something about Annabelle. It can’t be common knowledge. Something only her closest friends would know.”

You feel yourself blinking in surprise. “I don’t—”

She cuts you off. “Bullshit. You’re her sister. Tell me. ”

You think about your other sister. Annabelle could be cruel; she colluded with your mother to make you feel like an outsider in your own family.

True, she loved kids and did volunteer work—like most people, she was complex, with good and bad sides.

You know these aren’t the kinds of details Mandy wants, however.

“She didn’t like chocolate,” you say.

Mandy frowns.

“Very few people knew,” you add quickly. “It would be rude to tell a hostess you don’t enjoy her dessert or turn down a boyfriend’s Valentine’s Day gift.”

Mandy nods slowly. “Was she a runner?”

“No, but wh—”

“One more.”

“I don’t know. She liked peach Bellinis, the sweeter, the better.”

Your thoughts are all disorganized now; you can’t remember the short speech you’d planned, so you whisper a warning. “They might be bugging your apartment by now. Your car, too. Be careful.”

Mandy leans closer. “Who?”

“The people who want me dead.”

Mandy still doesn’t get it.

You supply the missing piece: “That last video… Senator Dawson was sleeping with Annabelle.”

Her eyes widen. Does she understand now?

No one becomes the most powerful person in the free world without creating a scorched-earth path to the Oval Office.

People can do— have done—just about everything imaginable to achieve that kind of power.

The Cartwright family is pouring millions into Senator Dawson’s campaign and attracting big donors.

If your parents knew of the affair and withdrew their support, they could back another candidate.

The scandal combined with the loss of money might be enough to tip the scale in a tight race.

“Tony Wagner is the PI. He’s local. Talk to him. He’ll confirm it.”

You can practically see your sister’s mind churning.

“Who else knows?” Mandy asks.

“Only Colby.”

She nods slowly.

If she’s upset by what you’ve pulled her into, she doesn’t show it. Maybe she doesn’t yet realize you’ve put her life at risk to save your own.