Mirrors Read Free Page A

it?” he said.
    “Just past ten. You’re free to leave your room. Maybe go to the recreation room or grab some breakfast in the cafeteria.” She nodded toward the food tray. “Looks like you could use some food.”
    “Maybe.”
    She paused. “If you’d like, I can walk down with you. Show you around if that would make you feel more comfortable.”
    “No thanks. I’ll be fine. I can find the way.”
    “Of course.” She reached for the door, hesitated, and then turned back. “We’re here to help you, Scott. This is a safe place for you. You can trust me. Okay?”
    He nodded. “Sure.”
    She opened the door. The faint sounds of people talking drifted in from the hallway. “I’ll see you later. We’re scheduled for a two o’clock session in room 408. Sound good?”
    “Looking forward to it,” he said with a smile, trying to suppress any sarcastic edge.
    “Good. We’ll find you. Any questions, feel free to ask the staff.”
    “I will. Thank you.”
    She closed the door behind her as she left. Unlocked.
    He was free to roam the floor. He’d been through the halls once before, but now he had enough time to inspect the rest unhurried.
    An image of Christy filled his mind. Upper floor. His failure to settle on a clear course of action coaxed sweat from his pores.
    He took a deep breath, opened his door, and peered out. Wilkins stopped in front the next patient room, knocked twice, and entered. Morning rounds.
    Austin exited his room, pulled the door quietly shut, and walked toward the recreation room, ahead and to the left.
    Lawson had said the upper floor was accessible only by a secure elevator. Since Austin hadn’t seen any stairwells or elevators he had to assume it was in a secure section of the building.
    He might force his way in, or he might get killed. Regardless, he had no force. No gun, no knife. Even if he had a weapon, he didn’t have the skill to use it.
    What he did have was his brain. Problem was, his brain was fried.
    He paused at the door marked RECREATION ROOM and peered through the long rectangle of reinforced glass set in the middle of it. Inside, about two dozen patients sat around the room in various stages of disinterest. Some stared blankly at a TV on the far wall while others rocked to a beat that played only in their heads.
    He was about to step in when laughter to his left drew his attention. A man dressed in white scrubs emerged from the patient room two doors down from his own. He wheeled a gurney through the doorway and guided it into the hallway, followed by a second attendant.
    On the gurney: a patient, face to the ceiling. A girl, vaguely familiar even from this distance. His heart rate quickened.
    He stared, uncaring that he was in full view. It was a psych ward, after all, and he was just another patient. The details of the girl became clearer as they drew close.
    Young. Dirty-blond hair. She lay beneath a white sheet that was cinched taut. Her arms lay at her sides on top of the sheet. Four straps crossed her body—one across her upper chest, one at her waist, one at her thighs, one across her ankles.
    A leather mask covered the lower part of her face. His mind completed its circuit of recognition as they drew abreast.
    He knew this girl. Her name was Alice.
    Time crawled as his eyes met hers. The gurney’s squeaking wheels and the distant sounds from the recreation room fell away as if the entire world had been plunged underwater.
    The words she’d spoken in the basement loomed in his mind. I’ve been there. I’ve seen it. I know.
    She stared at him without expression, unblinking, neither sad nor frightened. Just… there. She seemed to be looking both at him and through him at the same time.
    His eyes flitted to the wristband cinched on her left wrist as they passed. He could see it through the bedrail. MICHELE MILLER.
    After admitting Christy as Alice, Fisher had readmitted Alice under a new identity.
    Or had he?
    Austin dismissed the thought as the attendants made