“Hurry, she’s inside,” I said, my voice wobbly under the strain.
I had just sat and talked with a serial killer and made it out alive.
I inhaled deeply, my lungs aching as I realized how close to death I could have been.
“Stop where you are.” The officer’s voice was harsh, cold, dominating.
I stopped.
“Place your hands above your head and kneel.”
What? Wait. No. They thought I was Ava? No no no no no no no no no.
I fell to the ground, my hands lifted high.
“She’s inside,” I said again. “She’s in my front office along with her boyfriend, Tyler.” There was a misunderstanding. They were just being safe, cautious . . . right?
I looked beyond the officer in front of me to those behind him, and never had I felt so much hatred directed toward me, but it was there, in the eyes of all the police who stood with their guns pointed, assessing me, condemning me.
“You don’t understand. I’m Danielle. I live here. Ava’s inside my house. She’s the killer.” I spoke up, my voice clear as I tried hard not to show my panic.
I looked around for Tami. She should have been here. She needed to be. Why wasn’t she? Why couldn’t I find her?
The officer in front of me motioned to others to head into my home, their guns in front of them as they opened my door and disappeared inside.
“Where is Tami?” I couldn’t hide the panic. It was in my voice. It was all I could do not to fall apart.
Why were all these guns trained on me?
“I need Tami. Detective Tami Sloan. Where is she? She’ll clear this up.”
“What you need,” the police officer said as he approached, “is to be silent.” One step at a time, pistol in one hand, cuffs in the other.
Tami would help. She knew me. Sure, things had been weird the last few days with her not returning my phone calls or chatting before she left for her shift, but she was just stressed.
The officer looked up as the screen door to my home opened and slammed closed.
“All clear. No one in there.”
My head whipped around. “They must have left through the back. There’s a gate in my backyard.” I was desperate to help, for them to believe me. The serial killer, the one they called the Cheshire Mad Queen, had been there, in my office. I’d spoken to her.
“No evidence of anyone going through the back either. Grass hasn’t been cut in a while, so we would have seen if someone had gone through.” The death glare from the cop to the side sent a tremor of fear down my body. “The house is cleared, but you’ll want to see the basement. Lot of bloodstains by the look of it.”
Bloodstains? Basement? I never went down there. What was going on?
Where was Tami?
“Danielle.” She was there, on the sidewalk, off to the side. I let out a tortured breath. She was there. “Danielle, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” She lowered her voice until it was soothing, calming, reminding me of someone attempting to approach a wild horse. She moved slowly toward me, her steps careful, measured, her breathing in check.
Tami was calm, which helped to keep me calm.
I kept my hands behind my back, unfisted, despite the tension coiling through my muscles. I wanted to scream, cry, beg for her to understand.
“I’m okay, Tami,” I reassured her. “You’ll help sort this out, right?” I smiled, my voice light but not airy, not unsettled. Firm.
A loud murmuring erupted from the crowd that had gathered.
I looked at Tami in alarm.
“I’m trying, Dani. I’m trying.” Tami was close to me now. “I’ve done everything I can. Now it’s your turn. You need to go with the officer, okay? There’s some things we need to clear up, if that’s okay.” She spoke to me as if we were the only two in my yard, as if there weren’t multiple officers behind her listening in to every word, as if the street weren’t full of reporters and cameras and people who knew me.
Sabrina was there too, in the crowd. Hands covering her mouth. She was shocked. I could read it on her face, even from across the street.
“Ava was inside. She came to me. She wanted to meet with me.”
She nodded. “Dani, don’t say anything more, okay? I need you to remain calm and quiet.”
“I don’t understand what’s happening.” Tears fell down my cheeks as I was hauled to my feet.
“We just need to clear some things up, okay? Come to the station, where we can talk and where you’ll be safe. Please?” She held out her hand, and I was surprised to see it tremble. She was just as scared as I was.
“Dani, please?” Her voice shook with unshed tears.
The officer behind me wasn’t gentle as he cuffed my wrists. The click of them closing rang in my ears. The heaviness against my wrists, the weight on my arms, made it all the more real.
I was scared.
The glares from the other officers didn’t go unnoticed.
I dropped my head and focused on my feet as she walked with me to the back of a police car and helped me in. She spoke to someone outside the car before placing her hand on my shoulder and squeezing.
“Danielle, I . . .” She paused, choked up and in pain. “I’ll see you at the station, okay?”
Tears ran down my cheeks as I nodded, too afraid to say anything.
I knew I wouldn’t see her. We were too close. She was too close to the case. To me. I would speak to a million other people before they’d even consider allowing her to talk to me.
The car door slammed shut, the sound reverberating throughout my body.
Throughout my soul.
Chapter Forty-Three
FRIDAY, AUGUST 30
I was exhausted. Weak. Fragile. And my head was two seconds from explosion, like when you open a bottle of carbonated soda that’s been shaken.
All I wanted to do was curl into a ball, pull a blanket over my head, put on noise-reducing headphones, and sleep. Sleep and never wake up.
I sat in a cold and sparse room. One single table. Four chairs. Three were empty at the moment, but they hadn’t been earlier. I was alone. I stared into a large, thick window, where I knew an audience watched me.
Last night, I’d been read my rights and told I was suspected of being the serial killer Tami had searched for. No one listened when I explained it wasn’t me. That it was Ava.
They had placed me in a jail cell, provided a thin blanket, and left me alone for the night.
I hadn’t slept a wink. I’d refused to close my eyes and waited all night for Tami to come and make things right.
She never came.
When they brought me to this room, they gave me some water to drink and said someone would be in to see me soon.
That felt like hours ago. No one came. No one checked. No one wanted to listen to my explanations.
In their eyes, I was the criminal. The murderer. Whispers followed my steps until the door closed behind me. Haunting whispers I would never forget. I’d never met such hatred before, and I didn’t understand it.
“Why am I here?” I repeated my question over and over and over again. Someone was there, listening to me. I just needed them to believe me, to understand. “Tami knows. She knows me. She knows about the notes, about my patients. About Tyler. She can clear this up.” I rested my head on my forearms, exhausted.
Several more hours passed before the door opened.
I straightened right away with tension but relaxed with relief when Dr. Brown walked in. She wore a thin cardigan over a camisole and capri jeans with ballet slippers. She looked comfortable, relaxed, whereas I shivered beneath a sweater, thick socks, and sweatpants. I was a mess compared to her. The cold had seeped into my bones from this room, and no amount of layers would warm me.
I was never going to be warm again.
She set a bag down on the floor and pulled out a thick wrap. She arranged it around my shoulders, over my arms, tucking the ends in, and an immediate warmth covered me.
&nb
sp; “I placed it in the dryer for a few moments. I figured you’d be cold.”
If my hands had been free, I’d have launched into her arms and hugged her. But I wasn’t free. I was chained, handcuffed, and treated like a criminal.
“Dr. Brown, please, talk to someone. Tell them it’s not me. Please?”
She remained silent as she shuffled papers on the table. The silence between us grew. I was terrified but tried not to show it.
When she finally looked at me, I could tell she was gauging my reaction. “Danielle?”
“What’s going on, Dr. Brown?” There was a desperation in my voice that pleaded with her to be honest with me.
“I’m going to ask you some questions. They may seem weird at first, but I promise to explain myself, okay? I need you to keep an open mind and to trust me. I promise you, we will get through this.”
She pulled out a notepad from a file and uncapped her pen. “Just think of this as one of our regular therapy sessions.”
I wanted to tell her okay, but nothing about today was similar to our regular therapy sessions, and she knew that.
“In our last session, you mentioned you’ve been having a hard time sleeping.” She paused, and so I nodded. “Not only are you sleepwalking, but you’ve been having bad nightmares, right?”
I swallowed hard and nodded again.
“You look exhausted.”
I was so tired that my body ached and my skin tingled with each movement, and even the thump-thump of my heart hurt my chest. I didn’t know a body could be that weary.
“How about you tell me about the latest one.” Her pen was poised to take notes.
I didn’t want to. I was afraid that whatever I said would be used against me.
She must have sensed that. She pointed to the camera that had blinked red the whole time I’d been there.
We watched it together. Blink. Blink. Blink. Then the red light disappeared.
“You’re not being filmed. We are alone in here, just the two of us.”
We were not alone.
“What about that room?” I motioned to the one behind her. “Who’s there?”
She looked over her shoulder and dipped her head, and the mirror disappeared. Two people stood on the other side, arms crossed, intent looks on their faces. I didn’t recognize them.
“They’re with me, Danielle. They are both psychologists. Try to ignore them if you can. I need you to be honest with me, as honest as you, Danielle Rycroft, can be.”
Psychologists? I didn’t feel comfortable with that or with her wording. But I was no longer in control, was I?
“I’m not a killer. I’m not.” It was important that someone believe me.
Dr. Brown dropped her pen and looked at me. Something in her gaze wormed into my soul, and I knew that whatever she was about to say, it wouldn’t help.
“Your blackouts, they were increasing, weren’t they?” The words sounded simple, innocent, but they were heavy with doubt.
“I never came to covered in blood, if that’s what you’re asking. Not once.” But even as I said it, I struggled to recall all the times I’d blacked out. Sometimes I’d be home in bed, or I’d be in the kitchen pouring myself a glass of orange juice, or in the bathroom stepping out of the shower. Other times I’d be outside walking through the park or down a quiet street.
But never, never had I been covered in blood. That much I knew.
“I know it’s bothered you, when you realized you were sleepwalking. Have you thought about those missing hours? Where you were? What you were doing?”
My head shook back and forth, back and forth. Not because I didn’t agree with what she said but because my brain was on overload, too many thoughts, too many memories being revealed.
“Talk to me, Danielle. Please.”
“I was just walking . . . that’s all I do is walk . . .” My childlike voice was filled with those deep needs that rushed through me. The need to retreat, to hide myself, to escape the life that had become my nightmare.
“How many times did you wake up wearing different clothes?” she asked, her voice full of something between a question and an answer.
I swallowed hard. Why did it . . . then it hit me. No. No. NO! No no no no no no no no . . . It was not possible. I would know. I would know.
My fingernails dug into the palms of my hands. “I’m not the killer. I wouldn’t—” The pain in my chest and the thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump of my heart intensified until I swore it was about to pop out of my chest. I wanted to rub the skin over my heart with the palm of my hand, but I couldn’t. I lifted my gaze to the ceiling with a desperate need to not cry.
“It’s going to be okay.” Dr. Brown reached out to me with her arm, offering a lifeline. I grabbed hold, unable to let go. “Of course I know you.” She squeezed my hand. “You, Danielle Rycroft, would never harm a living soul. Deep inside, you know this too.” She handed me a tissue.
Tears flowed down my face, but they weren’t strong enough to wash away the fear inside me.
“I followed him,” I whispered. She was going to think I was crazy.
“I’m sorry?” She struggled to grasp what I’d said. It was written plain on her face.
“I followed him. Tyler. I . . .” A bag full of rocks lodged in my throat, impeding the words. “I was worried.” Those three words didn’t adequately convey my reasons for following him, but they were the only ones that came out.
Dr. Brown’s head tilted to the side. “You . . . followed . . . Tyler?”
I felt like nodding my head would be the wrong response.
“I’d like to focus on this for a bit, if that’s okay?” She set her pad of paper on her lap. “Let’s start with why.”
“Why? You mean why did I follow him?” Stupid question, because of course that’s what she meant. I worried my hands together. “Tyler, the things he said to me, about his girlfriend, they . . . they weren’t adding up, and I . . .” I swallowed past the shards of glass in my throat. “I was afraid he was involved in the murders somehow.”
“Why would you feel that way? Did he give you any indication he was?” Her pen hovered over the paper. “Did you share this with Tami?”
Not sharing with Tami was something I was going to regret for the rest of my life and then some. Maybe all this could have been prevented, maybe those other murders could have been avoided, if I’d only said something.
But I never did. I was too afraid, and every time I tried, I’d get hit by a migraine. My body had been trying to tell me sharing would be a bad idea, and I’d listened.
Obviously, I shouldn’t have.
“I need my phone.”
“Why?”
“Tyler, he came to see me, before . . . before the police came. And then Ava came in. You’ll hear her. You’ll see that she’s involved. It’s all there.”
She glanced behind her, at the people I’d tried to forget were there.
“Are you sure you recorded it?” Dr. Brown asked.
“Of course I’m sure. I had his permission to.”
A knock on the door interrupted us. It was loud. Jarring. A police officer stepped in and handed Dr. Rycroft my phone.
She placed it on the table. I punched in my password and then found the recording.
I played it. I didn’t watch as she listened. Instead, I closed my eyes, remembering the scene in my office before Ava came in.
The sound of her voice, how she spoke to me, so different from how she spoke to Tyler. Goose bumps covered my skin.
“What am I listening to, Danielle?” Dr. Brown’s words were measured, carefully constructed, though I could see a myriad of thoughts as they raced across her face.
Somewhere, somehow, I had lost confidence in myself, and so had she.
“My conversation with Tyler.”
“Tyler.” One word. One sigh.
“And Ava. She’s the real killer.”
She looked at me with a mixture of pity and . . . understanding?
“Let’s go back to what you mentioned earlier. You said you followed Tyler. What did you see?”
I wanted to wrap my arms around myself, to hug myself, but instead I played with the edges of the wrap, twisting the fringe with my fingers. Why were we back to this? Why weren’t we following up with the recording?
“Danielle, trust me, remember?”
My thoughts raced. I wanted to trust her. I had no choice but to trust her.
“Nothing. I saw absolutely nothing. One minute he was there, and the next minute . . . I know it sounds weird, but he disappeared. I don’t know if he knew I was following him or if I just lost him in the crowd.” I scrunched my face at the memory. A dull throb started between my eyes. I pressed my index finger into a pressure point where the throb had settled and pressed hard.
Lights danced before me, even with my eyes closed. Little star formations against a black backdrop, and as I focused on those brilliant stars, a soft ringing sounded in my ears. It reminded me of a wind chime my mother used to have outside the kitchen window when I was young.
“Danielle?” I heard a voice in the distance, like a rolling summer thunderstorm coming in off the distant lake. I tried to find the voice, to see who called, but I couldn’t.
Something touched me, and I jumped. My eyes burst open, and I was afraid of what I’d see.
Dr. Brown half knelt in front of me, her hand on my knee.
“Danielle? Can you hear me?” Her lips moved, but the sound didn’t sync. It was like watching a delayed newscast on the television.
The pounding in my head intensified; the pressure from the pain pushed against the skin covering my skull until I thought my head would explode. My hands were pressed tightly against my temples, and a low moan escaped from deep inside my soul.
And then it was gone.
The pain. The pounding. The pressure. Gone.
“Danielle? Danielle?” She added force to her hand on my knee. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”
“I’m . . . I’m okay.” My mouth was dry, and my voice sounded like a frog in heat, but the dancing lights, the paralyzing fear, and the intense pain in my head weren’t there.
“Where were you just now?” Dr. Brown straightened, poured water into a cup, and handed it to me. “What just happened?”
The Patient Page 26
