Chapter 8
Billa
Journals and loose papers fill my entire living room in the cottage.
Ryker left hours ago to go to work, though I think he was eager to leave.
The writings and drawings I made when I was young didn’t affect him the way they bothered me.
He didn’t see the connection between all of this and the mysteries at the mental hospital.
That’s fine. I don’t need him, anyway. Not now that I have what I need.
Though I do need to keep an eye on the time. I still have my night shift at Radley, and after reading through my old journals, I have a renewed vigor to find answers.
The scrawlings I don’t remember writing read more like bad Harry Potter fan fiction than anything that could’ve actually happened at Radley. That’s also why I don’t hold Ryker’s boredom against him. If these entries didn’t pertain to a period from my own life, I might have the same reaction.
But at the same time, I know there’s more to it than just a silly story. This is a message to myself, telling a story that’s meant to jog memories. I’m just not sure how to unlock what I can’t recall.
I’m missing a vital component, and the answer must be here somewhere. Surely I left myself a clue.
Maybe I’m putting too much faith in my nine-year-old self, especially given I was potentially hypnotized or drugged by a psychopath.
Except those memories are in my mind somewhere. It’s just a matter of finding them and dusting them off.
I glance at the clock. About an hour before I need to leave for my shift. That gives me plenty of time to figure something out, so I gather my mess and make piles from the drawings and loose journal entries.
Quite a few of them refer to a basement or cellar of some kind, and that doesn’t even touch on how many times the intact journals mention those things.
A basement or cellar has to be a clue. But why can’t I remember anything?
Ever since Kenzi and I returned to the old theater at Radley, I’ve been replaying everything I can recall, but it’s like someone scrambled my brain.
Probably because they did. Not only Laurel, but her deeply disturbed grandfather too.
What kind of person allows his granddaughter to be raised in a mental facility as if she were a patient?
I can’t say I’m surprised at all about the Brannons being involved with them. Honestly, I’d be more shocked if they weren’t. Both the mansion and the old sanatorium are historical sites in the area. And both hold tortured ghosts, both alive and dead. Nobody can convince me otherwise.
I’ve seen too much. And most I can’t actively remember.
Regina Brannon and Elias Radley picked the wrong kids to mess with. Kenzi couldn’t let go, and look what it did to her. I’m going to do everything in my power not to let myself end up in the same state as her but still find answers.
Working at the Radley institution puts me at a disadvantage. One wrong move, and someone could surprise me by injecting a mystery serum into my system.
It’s a risk I’m willing to take. So far, so good.
I’m aware of the risks. My nervous system is always on fire, and I’m more aware of my surroundings than the average person.
It’s how I’ve survived so far. Nobody’s overtaken me—including Laurel.
At least not at Radley. She did manage to kidnap me before all of this, but I definitely learned my lesson.
Believe no one is who they say they are. That’s my new life motto.
I go over some entries again, and I’m more convinced than ever that a basement has something to do with all of this. Is it under Radley? The theater? Or possibly somewhere else altogether?
Anything is possible, and one thing is certain—I need to talk to Kenzi.
The problem is Graham is acting as her gatekeeper.
Only he knows the new psychiatric facility she’s at because he believes she needs us to stay away.
That will not work any longer. There’s no way those doctors will crack the code without figuring out what really happened all those years ago.
And given the way Kenzi was talking before—she wasn’t making any sense—not even the best doctors can work with that.
We need our memories, and we need to know what happened. And unfortunately, we might even have to talk with Laurel in prison. That’s the last thing I want to do, so I’m going to try everything else first.
Why else would I have gone exploring in one of the old wings of the mansion? I’d rather subject myself to Laurel and the theater again.
But now I know it’s all connected. My childhood summer visits weren’t only to the mansion. Regina Brannon sent me to Radley too. I’m part of it all.
I gather everything, put it all back in the box, then hide it under my bed. Sure, it isn’t the most creative hiding spot, but it’s something. Then I traipse through the woods until I’m back at the mansion. I stare down the beast of a structure before going inside.
Graham’s voice comes from the direction of the kitchen. I follow it to find him gathered around the table with Jack and Carol. If they’re all here, baby Fenna is either sleeping or with Ember. Good. I need my brother-in-law’s full attention.
I exchange brief pleasantries with everyone before asking to speak alone with Graham. We get to the base of the spiral staircase, and he leans against it. “This sounds important.”
“It is.” I explain what I’ve learned from the drawings and journals Ryker and I found in the hidden cubby.
He frowns. “You know how I feel about anyone visiting Kenzi right now.”
“Is our absence helping her?” I counter.
“She hasn’t been there that long yet. We have to give her time.”
“You do realize she’s been hypnotized. The only answers that will help are either going to come from Radley or, as much as I hate the idea, Laurel herself.”
“I don’t believe in that hocus pocus nonsense.”
I bristle at his callousness but don’t interrupt him.
He continues. “What she needs is time away from any mention of Radley. She’s badly traumatized, and her mind needs the space to heal. That’s what’s going to help her. Not bringing up more of what threw her inside those warped thoughts in the first place.”
“Laurel or her grandfather did this to her. They’re the ones who have to undo it. How can you not see that?”
“Hypnosis isn’t real. You’re going to have to learn to accept that.”
I draw a deep breath. How he can say that after seeing his wife’s reaction to the word ‘milkshake’ is beyond me.
Either he doesn’t want to admit it, or he’s so steeped in his cop mindset that he can’t.
Whichever it is, he’s wrong. And we aren’t about to see eye to eye, so there’s no point in arguing with him.
I’m going to have to figure out another route.
Graham glances at his watch. “Is there anything else? I need to check on Fenna.”
“Even if Kenzi isn’t hypnotized, something is wrong. We have to find the key to unlock her memories, and I think it’s in the things I found today.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “In a child’s drawings?”
“It was my experience, and hers too!” I snap. “If we’re going to fix her mind, we have to start with what ruined it.”
“She was fine until you guys decided to break into the theater.”
“It wasn’t technically breaking in considering Laurel owns the place and lured us there.” I throw him an annoyed look. “She’s the problem, and she’s the solution. If I can just talk to Kenzi about what we experienced as kids—”
“No.”
“No?” I square my shoulders.
“While she’s in this delicate state, I’m the one responsible for making her decisions. You’ll all appreciate everything I’m doing once we’re through all of this.”
“You mean like how she appreciated your idea to move away from the mansion?”
Graham takes a step back, his eyes flashing with anger. “I’m done with this conversation.”
“You can’t let her waste away in there. She needs the rest of her family.”
“My job is to protect her—no matter who I upset. If you’re looking to talk to someone about Radley and their experiments, find Florencia Santos. She’s an investigative reporter looking into it. The woman calls our precinct daily. I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear from you.”
I bite back an annoyed retort. If I’m going to convince Graham that I’m actually trying to help Kenzi, I’m going to have to make it look like I’m taking him seriously. “Florencia Santos?”
He nods. “She’s convinced they’re up to no good, and I’m sure she’d love to speak with you considering you’re a former patient and a current employee. Perhaps you two can help each other.”
My anger is clawing at me to tell him off, but I push it down. “You’re right, that sounds like a great idea. I’ll be sure to reach out to her.”
“Great.” He gives me an obviously forced smile. “Have a good night.”
Oh, I intend to. Between digging around at work and calling a reporter looking into Radley, this might be a more productive night than I thought. It wasn’t like I expected Graham to let me see Kenzi anyway.
I’ll find a way, though. With or without his help. Perhaps this Florencia Santos person will be my key.