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  Rox let out a harsh laugh. “You mean like thinking someone is after him? Maybe trying to kidnap him?”

  “Yeah, like that.” Marty handed Rox a cup. “It would be tragic to make him more mentally ill.”

  “If he really is.” She took a sip. “Until we hear otherwise, we’re operating on the assumption that he’s mentally competent, but just has atypical neurologics.”

  He wished she could just say autism. The condition didn’t have the stigma it used to. Many people with autism were brilliant and high-functioning—like Rox. But new doubts about the case crept in. “I feel bad for the kid and I want to help him, but we really should see his file first.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “Can you talk to your friend in the CIA?”

  Rox spit coffee, making them both laugh again. As she wiped her shirt, she shook her head. “I’m not asking Sergio to hack a mental hospital. He wouldn’t do it anyway.”

  “When the government does it, we don’t call it hacking.” Marty winked.

  “Let’s give his aunt some time and try social engineering first. We’ve proved we can do this.”

  “You mean you’re going to call Serenity House?”

  “Yes, I’ve been thinking about it, and I’m ready.”

  “Good. See if you can find out Logan’s actual diagnosis.” He wasn’t optimistic, but they had to try.

  Chapter 8

  Thursday, October 11, 1:35 p.m., Mt. Angel Psychiatric Hospital

  Logan put down the dictionary he’d been reading and practiced his new favorite word: concomitant. Things happening at the same time and because of each other. His situation was a good example. He was locked up because he was depressed, and he was depressed because he was locked up. Concomitant. It even had commit as a root word.

  Before he was old enough to form memories, his mother had committed him to exile to live with his aunt. Then when Mother didn’t like his new memories and the depression they caused, she’d committed him to Mt. Angel. He hadn’t seen much of either woman since. But negative thinking worked against him. He had to keep his mind positive and sharp to combat the medications.

  Logan set up his chess board and made a first move, a pawn to the center. Controlling the middle of the board meant limiting the geometry of all the pieces. He switched to the other side of the table and made a similar move. He could see the board upside down in his mind, but he preferred to put himself into the opposition’s framework. His next move was traditionally the queen’s bishop, but he wanted to explore a new strategy involving the knight. Could he do it? Logan pushed himself to grab the piece and try the new opening. After placing the knight, he instantly regretted it. But even when playing himself, he never cheated, so he couldn’t take it back. He shifted to the other side of the table again and stared at the board. The unfamiliar pattern froze his brain and he couldn’t decide his next move.

  What seemed like only a few minutes later, the alarm on his nightstand beeped, startling him. How could it be two o’clock already? He jumped up and hurried into the hall. Dr. Carlson chided him when he was late, and he couldn’t stand that. He was trying so hard to be normal. If he could do that, someday he would get out of here—no matter how much the world frightened him.

  The doctor stood when he walked in, giving him a warm smile. “Hi Logan. Thanks for being on time.” She was pretty, for a lady with silver hair and wrinkles around her eyes, but only when she smiled.

  “I set my alarm.”

  “Good job.”

  He sat in the black padded chair and forced himself to look her in the eyes. It made him uncomfortable, but she insisted that he make visual contact. He was trying to get everything right. The doctor nodded her approval. “You’re making progress.”

  Dr. Carlson was new, and this was only their fourth session. His previous doctor had suddenly quit, and no one would tell him why. “I’m trying.”

  “What do you want to talk about today?”

  Should he mention seeing the other boy? The one who looked just like him only younger? He wanted to know why it was happening, but even more, he wanted out of Mt. Angel. Dr. Carlson had the power to release him—if she thought he was ready. And if his mother went along with it. He tried not to think about her. She confused him.

  “What is it, Logan? You should tell me.” Dr. Carlson tried to sound concerned, but her tone was more like a girl his age wanting to know a secret.

  Now he had to make up something else. “I tried a new chess move, which was a first for me. Then I panicked and wanted to take it back.”

  “But you made the move. That’s great.” She smiled with a tightness that annoyed him.

  No one understood what it was like to be inside his brain. The meds didn’t help either. They just made him spacey at unpredictable intervals. “I’ll try to continue the game when I get back to my room.” He meant that, but he also knew it wouldn’t happen.

  “Excellent.” She looked over her glasses and pressed her lips together. “Any repetitive behavior?”

  “No.” He’d learned not to hesitate before he lied. “But I heard the hospital was closing. What will happen to me?”

  Her face scrunched up, obviously upset. “We had hoped to keep that information quiet until we knew more.”

  “Will I be released?” Not a chance in hell. But it didn’t hurt to remind them he wanted out.

  “More likely you’ll be transferred.” She gave a tight-lipped smile. “Let’s talk about the hallucination you had last month.”

  His stomach squeezed into a ball, and he realized he had to pee. “I’d rather not. I mean, I know the boy isn’t real.” He’d been pondering the phenomenon and thought he had an answer. “Maybe I just wish I could go back in time. You know, before the incident.”

  “Interesting observation.” The doctor made a note on her pad. “So you regret how you treated your mother?”

  He paused this time, unable to pretend something he didn’t feel. “I wish none of it had happened.” That was the best he could do.

  “You still think it was her fault too?”

  “Yes.” Why couldn’t he just say what she wanted to hear? He tried another way. “I know I’ll never put my hands on her like that again.” Even though she’d deserved it… and he couldn’t remember why.

  “That’s good to hear.”

  Logan shifted in the chair, uncomfortable now. Some days, he almost enjoyed his sessions with Dr. Carlson, but this one wasn’t one of them.

  She shifted suddenly too. “Let’s try some word associations.”

  This, he could do all day. Relieved, Logan felt himself smile. Another first in a long time.

  The rest of the session went quickly. Logan remembered to thank the doctor, then hurried back to his room. He was eager to start the chess game over. Or at least put away the troubling pattern. Another patient stopped him near the stairs, a woman who looked about twenty-five but had the saddest eyes he’d ever seen. “You got a cigarette?”

  “No, sorry.” She asked that every time she saw him, and he never remembered her name. His only real friend was Amelia, or Mils, as she liked to be called. A sweet girl who wore pink pajamas but really was crazy.

  “You’re cute, you know,” the cigarette lady called as he walked away.

  Was he? Logan tried not to look in the mirror.

  At his room, he opened the door and immediately stiffened. What was that smell? Perfume? No, something similar though. Just as quickly, the odor was gone. Had he imagined it? Logan shuffled over to the chess board, feeling groggy again. The meds seemed to affect him in pulses.

  He stared at the board, blinking in surprise. The knight was back in place, and the queen’s bishop had been played. The way he always started. Had he taken the move back before his session? He didn’t remember doing that. But more important, the black knight was on his side of the board, threatening his king. A location that would have taken several moves during a game. Someone else had put it there. Logan shivered. The ge
sture was meant to frighten him—and it did.

  He was so tired of feeling scared and crazy. But he would likely be here for at least three more years. At eighteen, he could petition to be reassessed, but for now he had to find a way to live peacefully within these walls. That had to start now.

  Logan marched out the door and downstairs to his doctor’s office. He burst back inside without knocking. Dr. Carlson looked up from her desk, startled. “What is it, Logan? You look rattled.”

  “Someone came into my room and moved a chess piece on my board. The black knight was threatening my king.” His voice sounded squeaky and whiny, instead of confident and righteously perturbed. Shit. He hated his unpredictable voice. But he would use the phrase righteously perturbed in his next chapter.

  The doctor looked over her glasses at him for a long time. “Are you sure? You’ve made accusations like this before, and they didn’t turn out to be true.”

  Logan pressed his lips together, holding back anger. Just because the culprit had lied…

  The doctor continued. “Who would do that? And for what purpose? Have you thought about why you might feel threatened?”

  “I don’t need another session! I want to be able to lock my room!” The words burst out before he could calm himself.

  “Don’t shout at me.” Dr. Carlson shook her head, disappointment etched in her face. “Go back to your room. We’ll talk about this later when you’re calm.”

  He wanted a damn lock on his door. His brain caught the word and stuck. “Lock, lock, lock, lock, lock…”

  “Stop it, Logan! Or I’ll report you to the director.”

  “Lock, lock, lock…” He managed to make himself turn and walk away. But the word kept coming.

  Before he reached his room, Bruno and another attendant named Roy intercepted him. They grabbed him under each arm and dragged him down the doctors’ hall and into the elevator.

  No! Fear took control and his brain switched off the word lock and started on No. “No, no, no, no…”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Bruno shouted, pinching him.

  On the second level, they yanked him out and headed for a private medical area accessible only by taking the elevator in the far end of the building. “No, no, no…” Logan couldn’t stop feeling it, couldn’t stop saying it.

  Inside a small white room, Bruno and Roy lifted him onto a table, their strong hands bruising his thin arms. He had no chance of resisting physically, so he kept chanting “no, no, no.”

  They buckled down his arms and legs, then Bruno shoved a chunk of hard plastic into his mouth. A rubber cap soon encircled his head. Warm tears ran down Logan’s face. God, he hated this. The jolt of electricity sent searing pain waves through his brain. His mouth stopped forming words and a scream rose in his throat.

  Chapter 9

  Thursday, October 11, 2:15 p.m., Portland

  Rox clenched and unclenched her fists. She could do this. She wasn’t worried about being caught lying, she was concerned that her true nature would burst through at the wrong moment.

  “Are you all right?” Marty asked.

  “I’m fine.” She gave him a tense smile. They were both troubled by her mini-seizure earlier too. She had to remember to pick up that prescription. Rox grabbed the anonymous burner phone she’d purchased and punched in the number for Serenity House. An older woman answered, and Rox said, “This is Dr. Carlson with the Mt. Angel campus of Oregon State Hospital.” Liar!

  “Yes. How can I help you?”

  “I’m working with Logan Wilmont, and he’s being transferred to Serenity next week.” That wasn’t specific enough to sound like insider information. “Because of our hospital closure,” she added. “I’d need to speak with his new doctor.”

  “Uh, do you know who that is?”

  Rox worked up some indignation. “Well, someone should. Would you please check his file? Logan ought to have been assigned one by now. He’s being transferred soon.” She tried to sound impatient too. “I’m still waiting for information.”

  “Did you say Wilmont?”

  “Yes, spelled just like it sounds.”

  While the woman searched, Rox counted to herself and Marty paced the kitchen. After 191 seconds, the receptionist said, “I finally found him in the New Patient category. He should have been filed under Transfers.”

  “What psychiatrist has he been assigned and what day is he being transferred? I need to help Logan prepare.”

  “It looks like Dr. Edwards will be managing him, and Logan is scheduled to arrive Tuesday.”

  The receptionist abruptly spoke to someone in the background, then apologized. “I’ll try to put you through to his doctor, but I think she’s in a meeting.”

  A woman. Lucky break. “Thanks, I’ll leave a message.” As soon as the ringing started, Rox hung up. She had what she needed and didn’t want to risk chatting with someone who might know the real Dr. Carlson.

  Marty held up a palm for a high-five. “Well done.”

  Rox grinned and slapped his hand. “That was almost too easy.”

  “I know.” Marty rubbed his head. “I’m worried that my application to see Logan might have triggered some concern at Mt. Angel. If the doctors talk and figure out that someone impersonated Carlson to get information…” His voice trailed off.

  “You think they might start watching Logan more closely?” Rox was skeptical. Logan was a nobody, and if he went out for walks, he probably wasn’t housed in the high-security side of the building. They needed to figure that out too.

  “Maybe,” Marty said. “If his mother is as cold and calculating as we think, she might pay his doctor to keep him under wraps.”

  “All the more reason to get Logan out.” Rox sat at the table and opened her laptop. “Let’s map the possible routes between the facilities.”

  “We can even plan the extraction.” Marty sat down and locked eyes with her. “But we’re not going through with it until we have confirmation that Logan is not a threat to anyone, including himself.”

  Rox agreed with the first part. “I’m not sure locking people up just so they can’t kill themselves is morally valid. I would rather be dead than depressed and incarcerated.”

  Marty nodded. “I’m with you on that for adults, but not minors. Teenagers suffer from depression that later goes away. We have to protect them from suicide.”

  “Locking them up is not the answer.” Rox really wanted a look at Logan’s file. “I’m back to thinking about a hacker.”

  Marty’s eyes widened in a devilish expression. “Or you could call Dr. Carlson, pretending to be Dr. Edwards.”

  Rox nodded. She’d been thinking that too. “I’ll ask about her concerns for Logan.” She turned the laptop toward her stepdad. “You map the routes while I prep for this.” Rox stood and moved into the living room, where she paced and thought about what she would say. She would have to keep it brief. Her ability to practice deception was new and limited. Before the magnet treatments, she wouldn’t have tried. Even now, it made her a little nauseated. Or maybe that was just the constant low-grade headache.

  She strode back to the kitchen, snatched up her phone, and made the call. “This is Dr. Edwards from Serenity House. I need to speak with Dr. Carlson about Logan Wilmont’s transfer.”

  “Dr. Carlson isn’t available. Can someone else help you?”

  “Perhaps. I just need to know if we should be concerned about the safety of our patients upon his arrival.” Too formal?

  The receptionist let out a cheerful chuckle. “Oh no. Logan is very sweet.”

  She had to find a way to probe. “But his file says he has unexpected outbursts.”

  “No, he’s quiet and repetitive sometimes, but I’ve never seen him act strangely. You know, compared to some.” The young woman lowered her voice. “I’m not sure why he’s here actually, but then, I don’t have access to his treatment notes. I’ll put you through to his doctor’s voicemail.”

  Rox was surprised by the lack of patient co
nfidentiality, but the receptionist obviously thought she was talking to Logan’s new psychiatrist. She prepared to hang up, but a different woman came on the line. “Dr. Carlson speaking.”

  Startled, Rox plunged in. “This is Dr. Edwards with Serenity House.” Her heart raced. Now what? “I’m calling about Logan Wilmont’s transfer. My concern is about his mental stability, specifically the delusions. What can you tell me?”

  “You’ll be treating him? I hadn’t been notified.” Her voice held a hint of irritation.

  “I’m sure the paperwork is coming.” Rox forced herself to slow down and find out everything she could. The burner phone couldn’t be traced. “Tell me about his delusions. Are they a concern for the safety of other patients?”

  “If you have my name, you have his file. Haven’t you read it?” More irritation.

  “Not yet, but I will. I’m a little overwhelmed and just need a verbal summary.”

  “I understand.” A little sympathy in her tone now. “Logan is on the autism spectrum and demonstrates repetitive behavior. But that’s not why he’s here,” she added quickly. “He had a violent episode with his mother that scared her enough to want him institutionalized. We haven’t seen that kind of behavior since, but he’s taking duloxetine and lorazepam. Still, he has hallucinations sometimes. Nothing too harmful though.”

  What the hell?

  The doctor had a little catch in her voice as she shared the next detail. “He had a breakthrough today in understanding his delusion. I’m encouraged for him.”

  Rox was too. “Thanks for your time. Logan will be in good care with me.” She started to hang up.

  Carlson cut in. “Try to monitor his mother’s interaction with him. She doesn’t visit, but she calls every once in a while and always manages to upset Logan.”

  Rox was starting to hate the woman. “Is that why his visitors are restricted?” She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. The information might not be in his file.