Chapter 22
Montevallo Road, Birmingham
Magnolia Hills Individualized Care Center
Annette sat in her car for several minutes after arriving at the center. She had handled her two o’clock with Campbell by phone. Now Annette had to take care of her sister. There was no way around it. But she dreaded with all her heart the trouble that might lie inside.
She was strong. She would handle whatever fate tossed in her lap.
Hadn’t she been doing that her whole life?
In just a few hours she had a historical society fundraiser to attend. No matter that everything was falling apart; she had commitments. She had to hold whatever ground she had left until the bitter end.
Not once had she given up, however bad things were. She wouldn’t now.
Annette emerged from her Lexus and walked with determination to the front entrance. After keying in the security code, she entered the nauseatingly quiet building.
The clinical smell immediately assaulted her. Reminded her of the worst times from her past. Visions of blood, sounds of screaming bombarded her. The pruning shears protruding from that bastard’s back. Her working with all her might to dislodge the shears. She shuddered, pushed the memories away.
Leave it in the past. Before she could usher the images completely away, more joined the parade. Blood . . . all over her hands, her blouse. She blinked, pushed all of it aside. She had to attend to this issue. Right now, nothing else mattered.
The corridors were deserted since visiting hours ended at two and didn’t resume until five.
Classical music played softly, banishing the silence and at the same time masking the sterile sounds of treatment.
She made her way to the second-floor information desk and identified herself to the nurse on duty.
She must be new; Annette hadn’t seen her before.
The nurse entered Annette’s name and security code into the computer on the desk. “Ah, there you are, Ms. Anderson. You’re here to see your sister Paula.”
Annette had long ago gotten used to being called Ms. Anderson. The step was necessary to ensure that Paula was never connected to Annette or her work. “Yes.” Annette stiffened, steeled herself for bad news.
“Dr. Roland is on duty,” the nurse explained. “I’ll call her to the desk for you.”
“Thank you.”
Annette wandered a few steps from the desk to wait for the doctor. Roland wasn’t Paula’s primary care physician, but Annette had worked with her before.
“Ms. Anderson.”
Annette turned toward the gentle voice. “Hello, Dr. Roland. I hope Paula is all right.”
“Why don’t we step into the lounge so we can talk,” Roland suggested.
A scarcely subdued panic clawing at her, Annette followed the doctor to the private lounge and settled into a chair directly across the designed-for-function coffee table from where the doctor took a seat.
Dr. Roland shoved her stethoscope into the pocket of her lab coat before resting her full attention on Annette. “There was a strange incident this afternoon.”
“But Paula is all right?” Every incident involving Paula was strange. The doctor’s reluctance to share the details had the dread swelling.
“Yes.” The doctor nodded. “Paula is fine, physically. But the incident triggered a severe reaction. We were forced to medicate her more heavily than usual.”
Annette clasped the arms of her chair to keep in check the emotions roiling inside her. “You keep talking about the incident. Can you explain what happened, please?”
“Of course. I apologize,” Roland said. “You’re aware of our high standard of patient care.”
Annette nodded, wishing like hell the woman would get to the point.
“We pride ourselves on safety, first and foremost.”
The anxiety pressed against Annette’s chest, fisted in her stomach, but she kept quiet. Allowed the woman to get to her point without interruption.
“Somehow, Paula got her hands on a pair of scissors.”
“Did she injure another patient?” If Paula was fine physically, doing damage to someone else was an equally disturbing concern.
Roland shook her head. “She cut her hair.”
Relief and confusion reigned for a long moment, rendering Annette unable to respond appropriately.
Paula had the same blond hair as Annette, only far longer.
Paula loved her hair, played with it like a child with a favored toy.
Most of the time it stayed in one long braid.
She would be devastated at the loss of her hair.
“How did this happen?”
The Magnolia Individualized Care Center was one of the finest in the country. The staff specialized in low-functioning autism. Paula had never been happier.
“Believe me when I say we’ve investigated every possibility and we’re at a complete loss.” Roland turned her palms upward. “There simply is no explanation. Regardless, we take full responsibility, of course.”
No explanation? Calm. Stay calm. “I’m certain every precaution was taken to avoid an incident of this nature.
” Annette closed her eyes a moment to regain full control of her composure, then met the doctor’s relieved gaze.
“Things do happen despite our best efforts. Still, I would hope that nothing like this will happen again.”
Dr. Roland nodded adamantly. “You can rest assured it will not happen again.”
Annette cleared her throat of the rising lump. What Paula could have done with scissors chilled her blood. “Can I see my sister now?”
“Certainly.” Roland stood, clearly breathing easier. “But, as I said, she’s heavily sedated.”
Annette pushed to her feet. She felt so tired suddenly. So very tired. “I understand.”
As she walked alongside Dr. Roland, Annette considered the murals on the walls of the corridor.
She’d seen them many times before, but she never ceased to be amazed by the detail.
Each was designed to lure the minds of the patients who roamed the halls.
With autism, most of those like Paula were inclined to retreat to that world in their heads that they alone knew about.
The murals and sensory rooms were created specifically to draw them out, to entice them to another place.
The whole center was set up in such a way to induce intellectual stimulation or to soothe an outburst in quiet rooms where pale blue was the sole color of walls, floors, and furnishings.
Each member of the staff was trained specifically in dealing with the patient’s unique needs.
The place was worth every penny of the hundred-plus grand it cost each year. Paula was safe and happy, at least to the degree possible. She received the finest care available, and all new medical discoveries were hastened into trials here.
Annette didn’t care what she had to do; she would ensure that her sister received this level of care for the rest of her life.
Roland paused at the door to the room. “Let me know if you need anything or if you have any additional questions.”
Annette thanked her before stepping into the room.
Paula lay on her back, arms at her sides, sheet neatly draped over her. Definitely medicated to the max. Paula preferred curling into a ball when she slept.
Annette’s eyes burned when she touched her sister’s hair, which stood like bristles on a brush. How on earth had this happened? Paula lay absolutely still, breathing deep and steady. Annette kissed her cheek and whispered softly in her ear. “I’m here, baby.”
Though her mind was like that of a toddler, sometimes an infant, Paula was three years older than Annette.
There were moments when Annette would see recognition in her eyes.
Sometimes happiness. But more often than not all Annette saw was that emptiness that left her feeling so utterly desolate and completely inadequate. And alone.
Annette kissed Paula’s forehead and settled into the chair next to her bed.
The wrist bracelet she wore identified her as Paula Anderson.
Annette disliked the deceit when it came to dealing with Paula.
No matter, the step was without question essential to her security.
Annette would never take chances with her safety.
Scissors. How could such an oversight have happened? The staff were highly trained and meticulous in their work. Not once in all the years Paula had stayed here had anything like this happened.
The notion that it had now, at this particular time, roused Annette’s anxiety once more.
Could someone have made the connection?
She never allowed the FBI or anyone else to tail her here. Annette was too good for a careless mistake like that.
No need to overreact. Paula was basically unharmed. If Annette’s enemies had wanted to hurt Annette or send her a warning, there were far worse things they could have done.
Like that black sedan that had attempted to follow her when she’d left the courthouse. But she’d given him the slip. And the driver had definitely been male.
Annette shuddered at all the possibilities.
She had been protecting Paula since they were little children.
Some of the brats in the trailer park where they had lived as kids had liked being mean to Paula.
Annette had busted heads. She had grown up tough as nails.
At least she had thought she was tough, until, at age twelve, her mother had deserted them at the Walmart.
Their father had disappeared years before that.
And the only other man in their lives, the bastard who’d lived with them for three long-ass years, had been dead.
Murdered. But he’d deserved exactly what he’d gotten.