He stilled. “Ah, yes. But we can discuss it later, when you’re feeling better.”
I eyed the doctor, then Heath. I had their full attention now. I lifted my eyebrow just a fraction, hoping Heath would get my message—Two can play this game, Doc—then closed my eyes, as if conjuring up the memory. The reality was, I didn’t have to. I remembered every time Heath had cried out in his sleep. Every scream and roar and whimper that had woken me.
Break the mirror . . .
Cerny stared at me, and a delicious frisson of superiority went through me. Whatever game he was playing with Heath and me—and with Glenys—he wasn’t going to win. I sure as hell wasn’t going to give him any more information until I figured out what he was up to.
He may have looked like Mr. Al, but he wasn’t my fucking father.
I cleared my throat. “One time—and I remember it very clearly—one time he said . . .”
I could’ve sworn Cerny’s pupils dilated in anticipation.
“He said, ‘I have no pity.’” I looped my hand through Heath’s arm, gripping his bicep. I could feel him staring down at me.
“I did?” Heath asked.
“Hm.” I glanced back at Cerny. His face had gone slack.
“Does that mean anything to you, Dr. Cerny?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I can’t really say.” His eyes were hard and narrowed and laser focused on me. I wondered if he knew I had broken into his barn and seen the old desk. I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t imagine he’d be anything but annoyed at my little game. But he didn’t look annoyed. He looked furious.
I was so relaxed now; there was no question he had dosed me with something, but only a distant part of me was afraid. Mostly, now, I was feeling about ten feet tall.
“I’m sure,” I said breezily, “that, as his psychologist, you’ll enjoy solving the mystery. Good night.”
I walked to the door and was about to reach for the keys, when I felt Heath beside me, his breath in my ear. I froze as his hand clamped around my wrist. I had the keys in my sights, right there, within a literal arm’s reach.
“No.” His voice was only a whisper, but he was shaking. Before I could protest, he pulled me away from the keys and out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Why did you say that to Dr. Cerny?” Heath asked.
It was almost dinnertime, and if I was serious about finding Glenys, I probably should’ve been keeping an eye out for Luca. But the episode in Cerny’s office had thrown me off. I was more than a little high and way past done with this place. All I wanted to do was go home.
Dully, I scanned the room:
In the frame of the oil painting above the fireplace.
In that floor lamp in the corner of the sitting area.
Somewhere along the mirror above the dresser.
In the fan above the bed.
Behind me, Heath cleared his throat. “Did I really say that ‘I have no pity’ thing?” He was speaking carefully, like he was picking his way over broken glass.
Should I tell him about the other cameras in our room? Would it convince him that we had to leave? I didn’t know anything anymore. This place was turning me upside down.
“No, you didn’t say that.” I scrubbed at my eyes. “It was just something I saw on some old furniture in the barn, a phrase scratched on a desk.”
He leapt up. “Daphne! God!”
I straightened in surprise. “What?”
“You can’t do that!” he yelled. “You’re messing with my treatment. Don’t you understand?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“You don’t like Cerny, it’s obvious. But that doesn’t give you the right to lie to him about me.”
“I’m sorry, okay? It’s just . . . I feel really weird. Not myself. I’m pretty sure he put something in that juice he gave me.”
He made an exasperated sound. “Oh, come on. You wanted to fuck with him, and you saw your chance. Don’t pass the blame.”
“I’m not!” I shouted. Then, aware again of the cameras, I lowered my voice. “Okay, you don’t have to believe me. But you have to admit nothing here makes sense. Why aren’t we allowed to talk to anyone? Why does Dr. Cerny act so goddamn weird all the time . . .” Why does he have a state investigator’s card in his desk and a closetful of women’s clothing? Why is the yard full of dead birds?
And the cook seems to be trying to send me a message every time I run into him . . .
Heath shook his head. “You can’t just make stuff up. This is a serious process.”
“So get him to prescribe you some sleeping pills and let’s go home. There’s nothing that says you have to offer him your soul.”
“I know how you feel about therapists. I know this is hard for you . . .”
“This is not hard for me,” I said evenly. “I’m not afraid of Dr. Cerny. I know what the Internet says, that he’s a qualified doctor and everybody thinks he’s a miracle worker. It’s just . . .” I trailed off. “I’m not comfortable talking to him about your nightmares. You can talk to him, but I can’t. I don’t trust him.”
“You’re saying you don’t trust me.”
“No. Yes. Yes, I do.”
“You’re pissed that you told me about your past. You regret it.”
“Stop it, Heath. Don’t turn this around on me.”
“You’re so full of bullshit,” he spat. “You only told me about the ranch, about Omega and Chantal, because you were scared to hear more about my past. To really go there with me, all the way to the darkest part. And now you’re acting weird and distant and cold. You can’t stand it, the reality of actually being close to me.”
My face flushed. “No.”
But he’d hit on something. Being here at Baskens had changed us, set us on what felt like an irreversible course. I couldn’t pretend like our pasts didn’t exist, but I didn’t want to go forward and deal with all of it, either. I was stuck, here in this twisted house.
He fixed me with a hard look. “So you just happened to see that phrase, I have no pity, carved on a piece of furniture?”
“It was on this old school desk I found in the barn. I don’t understand why it bothers you so much. Am I missing something here?”
A knock sounded on the door, and I jumped like someone had set off a bomb. I went for the door, but Heath caught my arm.
“Hold on.” He kept a tight grip on me. “It’s just dinner. He can wait.” He folded me into a hug. “You scared me, Daph. I didn’t understand what you told Cerny or why you hadn’t ever said anything about it before. It made me feel . . . it made me worry I might never get to the bottom of whatever is going on with me.”
I pressed my face against his shoulder, guilt flooding me. “It was shitty of me. I’m sorry.”
“I just need to feel you for a second.”
He tightened his arms around me, but all I could think was that I was missing my chance to see Glenys answer Luca’s knock on her door. If she answered it at all. When Heath finally let go, I opened the door. Our dinner tray was the only one in the hall.
“Goddammit,” I said under my breath.
“What?” Heath said behind me. I picked up the tray and scooted around him.
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
In the room, I lifted the cover on my plate to find fragrant shrimp and quinoa and slender asparagus. Heath moved to fill my glass with wine, but I put my hand over it to stop him. I couldn’t afford to mix alcohol with whatever I’d ingested, especially if I intended to keep looking for Glenys tonight. Heath poured himself a healthy serving, then forked violently into a slice of coconut cake. I watched him with raised eyebrows.
“Dessert for dinner?”
“Long day,” he grumbled through a mouthful.
I went at my shrimp, feeling belligerent. “So you really think Glenys is okay?”
“I don’t see any reason to think otherwise.”
“If I could just call her or text her or something . . .” I shut my mouth abruptly. A kernel of an idea had just broken open in my mind. A way to get word to somebody that didn’t necessitate Wi-Fi or cell networks. I tucked the idea away for the time being. I’d need to wait until I was alone. “I just hope she’s okay, that’s all.”
“Do you have any reason to think she wouldn’t be?”
“No. Not specifically. She’s been having a hard time about some things in her life.”
“Like what?”