“Hello, Oscar.”
“I was afraid Dr. Gill would find you,” Oscar said. He glared at Jake. “Are you the hired gun Gill sent to track down Mrs. Massey? You ought to be ashamed of yourself. She doesn’t belong in this place.”
“I agree. I’m Jake Truett. You could call me a hired gun but I’m working for Adelaide, not Gill. And by the way, she isn’t Mrs. Massey. Her last name is Blake.”
Oscar looked skeptical. He turned to Adelaide. “That true?”
“Yes, it is,” Adelaide said. “I was never married.”
“Dr. Gill said—”
“Dr. Gill lied,” Adelaide said. “The only reason I’m here now is because I left something behind. I came back to get it. Mr. Truett accompanied me to make sure I don’t have any problems with Gill.”
Oscar grunted. “No need to worry about running into Gill. He’s off on a fishing trip. He’s not due back until the end of the week.”
“So you haven’t seen Gill recently?” Jake asked.
“Not since he took off in his old Ford. Heard he left his sharp new Lincoln behind. It’s in the garage at his house. He told someone he didn’t want to get it muddy on the back roads in the mountains.”
“Who did Gill put in charge of the sanitarium while he’s out of town?” Adelaide asked.
“That’s the weird thing—he didn’t leave anyone in charge. He just took off real sudden like. Nurse Conner is looking after things.” Oscar glanced at his watch. “But it’s just going on five thirty. She won’t arrive until eight o’clock.”
“That means we’ll be dealing with the orderlies,” Adelaide said. She gave Oscar a bright smile. “I don’t think Mr. Truett will have any problem handling them.”
Oscar eyed Jake with a considering look. “Not sure what’s going on here, but if you’re a friend of Adelaide’s, I can give you some advice that might save you a whole lot of trouble.”
“I’m always open to good advice,” Jake said.
“If any of the orderlies tries to make trouble for you, just slip him ten or twenty bucks. That will make him look the other way.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Jake said. He took out his wallet and removed some bills. “Sound advice is worth a lot to me.”
Oscar raised his bushy brows and palmed the money. “Not necessary. Happy to help out Mrs. Massey—I mean, Adelaide. But thanks. I can buy that new radio Nancy’s been wanting. We get a real chuckle out of that Fibber McGee and Molly show and we never miss The Shadow.”
“How is you wife’s insomnia these days?” Adelaide asked.
Oscar smiled. “Much better, thanks to you. She brews up some of those herbs and flowers you told me about and drinks a cup or two before she goes to bed. Sleeps real good. I’ve started drinking some of the stuff myself.”
“It was one of my mother’s recipes. I’m glad it worked for your wife. Take care, Oscar. And thanks for your kindness to me when I was here.”
“You were in real bad shape the night Dr. Gill brought you here. He said you’d had a nervous breakdown and that he and Ormsby were going to give you some special medicine that would help you. But as far as the staff could tell, it made things worse, just like it did the first patient they treated with it. Except you survived. After you disappeared, a lot of folks here, including me, said you were better off away from this place.”
“You and the others were right,” Adelaide said. “I’ve been doing great since I left the Rushbrook Sanitarium.”
“Glad to hear it. Run along now and fetch your things. Reckon one of the orderlies can show you where they stored your belongings.”
“I wasn’t able to carry much with me the night I left,” Adelaide said. She turned to Jake. “Are you ready to see the place where I was involuntarily in residence for nearly two months?”
Jake’s eyes got the cold, expressionless look that she was coming to know so well.
“Yes,” he said.
They walked through the deceptively serene gardens and went up the stone steps to the massive wooden door. Jake tried the handle. When he discovered it was locked, he leaned on the bell button.
An attendant dressed in a white uniform opened the door. He looked rumpled and annoyed—a man at the end of a long night shift. Adelaide didn’t need the name tag on his shirt to identify him. Harold Baker liked the night shift because he could doze through most of it. He did not immediately recognize her.
“Visiting hours are three to four in the afternoon,” he announced. “Dr. Gill is very strict about that. Upsets the patients if people come and go at any time of the day.”
“We’re not here to visit any of the patients,” Jake said. He pulled a leather case out from under his jacket and flipped it open and closed very fast. “Special Agent Jake Truett, Federal Bureau of Investigation. Dr. Gill has been doing some clandestine work for us. There’s been a breach of national security.”
“Huh?”
“I need to confiscate some files immediately.”
Befuddled, Harold looked at Adelaide as if seeking clarification. Belated recognition sparked in his eyes.
“Hey, aren’t you Patient B?” he demanded.
“Good news, Harold. My mental health has vastly improved since I left the Rushbrook Sanitarium,” Adelaide said. “By the way, we’ll need the keys to ward five.”
“I can’t give you those keys,” Harold said, alarmed. “Dr. Gill would be real upset.”
“Unless you would like me to take you in for questioning concerning a serious breach of national security, you’ll give Miss Blake the keys,” Jake said.
“Miss Blake? Her name’s Mrs. Massey.”
“I’m not Mrs. Massey,” Adelaide said. “You had better give Special Agent Truett those keys before he arrests you.”
“Damn it, I don’t get paid enough to take this kind of grief,” Harold growled. “The keys to the fifth floor are in Gill’s office. Help yourself.”
Adelaide started toward the grand staircase. “Follow me, Special Agent Truett.”
“Right behind you, Miss Blake,” Jake said. “I can assure you that the Bureau is very grateful for your cooperation in this vital matter.”
Harold watched, mouth agape, as Adelaide and Jake went quickly up the stairs.
When they reached the landing, Adelaide looked at Jake. “Is that a real FBI badge?”
“Real enough,” Jake said.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning it worked.”
“I guess that makes it real enough,” Adelaide said.
Gill’s office was locked.
“We’ll have to make Harold give us the key,” she said.
“Let me try my skeleton key,” Jake said.
“You have a skeleton key?”
“Technical term.”
Jake took his gun out from under his jacket and used the handle to tap the glass pane in the door with judicious force. The glass shattered. He reached inside and turned the knob.
“Right,” Adelaide said. “A skeleton key. Very handy piece of equipment.”
“Yes, it is,” Jake said.
The iron ring containing the key to the fifth-floor ward was on a hook on the wall. Adelaide grabbed it.
No one tried to stop them until they reached the locked ward on the fifth floor. At that point they were confronted with another thick wooden door and an old-fashioned lock. Adelaide got the door open with the key.
She thought she was braced for the return to the ghastly place where she had spent a two-month-long nightmare, but when she moved into ward five, a wave of panic hit her. She froze. She wanted to turn around and run for her life.
She was vaguely aware that Jake had stopped beside her. He surveyed the ward with its sterile white walls, white tile floor, and twin rows of locked rooms.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re never coming back to this place.”
She pulled herself together. “But if I do end up back here, you’ll come and get me.”
“Yes.”
“I’m all right now,” she said. “The staircase that leads to the lab is at the far end of this hall. Whatever you do, don’t look through the grills into any of the rooms. Don’t make eye contact with any of the patients.”