A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers. Enjoy!
The Great Cooper Lake Children's Psychiatric Hospital was one of the ugliest buildings Pete had ever seen. Squat, brown, dumpy – it looked like a prison. And the tall chain-link fences surrounding the building, topped with spirals of razor wire, only served to add to that image.
"Nice place," Pete commented as Myka pulled the car up to the entrance gate.
"There's a lot of security here," Myka murmured. "Too much for a bunch of sick kids."
A guard came out of the shack near the gate and leaned into the open window. "Can I help you?"
Myka pulled out her badge and flashed it at him; in the passenger seat, Pete did the same. "We're here to see Dr. Wilson-Farrell."
"And you are?"
"Agents Bering and Latimer, Secret Service," Myka said.
"What's the Secret Service want with Dr. Wilson-Farrell?" the guard asked, leaning in a little farther.
"That information is classified."
"Government ain't never interested in what happens here… then that little witch goes missing and suddenly there's more cops 'round than we can handle," the guard said. With a shrug, he went back into the guard shack and opened the gate.
Myka drove through.
"Little witch?" Pete asked quietly. "What do you think he meant by that?"
"Pete – a girl shows up in our Warehouse unannounced – whether it's magic or not, something transported her to South Dakota." Myka pulled the car into the visitors' parking lot.
"Let's go see what the good doctor can tell us, then," Pete said.
Dr. Wilson-Farrell turned out to be a squat, balding man with thick glasses, reclining in a ripped vinyl desk chair in a gross, tile-floored office decorated with several diplomas and a haphazardly-hung watercolor landscape. "Secret Service," he said, looking over their badges with bored, glossy eyes. "And you're interested in an escaped child?"
"We're interested in a lot of things," Pete said.
"What can you tell us about the escaped girl?" Myka asked.
Dr. Wilson-Farrell laughed a short, humorless chuckle. "Seems like I've been asked that question more in the past two days than ever before. Been here ten years and nobody's even come to visit her."
He handed them a thick burgundy folder. "Here's her file. I've got to go do rounds. I'll be back."
With that, he left.
"Guess we'll… do some reading," Pete said. "Not exactly a people person, is he?"
Myka brought the file over to the doctor's desk and flipped it open. "Let's see…"
Name: Reagan-Arden, Wrenna Adelie. Called "Adelie" by drop-off personnel.
Birth-date: 07/14/99
"She's fifteen," Myka murmured. "So young."
"Younger than Claudia," Pete said. "The record's been broken."
Primary diagnosis: Kanner's Syndrome, savant sub-type.
"Kanner's Syndrome?" Pete asked, pointing.
"I think it's a form of autism. It must be. It says she's a savant."
Secondary diagnosis: Optic neuropathy.
"And she's blind," Myka said.
08/2004. Patient arrived here shortly after fifth birthday. Was brought to the facility by a child protective services representative. Patient was found alone in a single-family residence in Chicago. Patient, at the time, was selectively mute and showed signs of severe sensory deprivation. Visual acuity testing showed visual field 20/200. Hearing normal. At this time her IQ was tested below 40, but testing staff are aware that the circumstances surrounding the testing are non-optimal. Patient shows no interest in music, books, art supplies, toys, or playground equipment. Patient does not speak, either on command or spontaneously. Patient shows no attachment to any object or person. Patient refuses the majority of food and supplements given, but will eat if forced.
01/2006. Patient approached a piano without direction, sat down, and began to play. Patient plays with technical precision and clarity. Her repertoire seems to be endless. Requests from staff members were immediately played. Patient distinctly displeased when asked to leave piano. A search for her family members continues.
04/2006. Patient demonstrating severe self-injurious behaviors. Patient has become hysterical on three separate occasions. 1.0 mg IM Haldol given by on-call MD. Patient continues to rock, poke at her eyes, bite her fingers, scrape her face, slap herself, and rub her wrists against doors and walls until bloody. Patient appears to feel no pain. Patient refuses to leave piano unless forced. Patient will vomit when displeased. Patient screams w/o end, 1800-2400. Psychotic episode non-responsive to 1.0 mg Haldol x q2.
08/2007. Patient attacked on-staff psych tech. Patient then became hysterical and non-responsive. Waxy catatonia lasted 94 hours and was not responsive to 1.0 mg Haldol x q4. Patient taken to soft room. Patient unable to eat. Patient demonstrating more self-stimulation behaviors.
12/2007. Patient spoke spontaneously. Psych tech reported her as saying, "Sorry. Sorry." When asked to repeat herself patient did not respond.
05/2008. Patient spoke spontaneously. Psych tech reported her as saying, "Help. Help." When asked to repeat herself, patient did not respond. Patient's psychotic episodes have increased to every 12-24 hrs. Episodes are non-responsive to 2.0 mg Haldol x q4 or q8.
07/2009. Patient spoke spontaneously. Psych tech reported her as saying, "Stop."
11/2009. Psych tech reported her as saying, "Help. Please."
12/2009. Psych tech reported her as saying, "Go" and "Away."
4/2010. Psychotic episodes are every 8-12 hrs. Patient is non-responsive for 12-24 hrs. following episode. Self-stimulation and self-injurious behaviors continue.
"She's really ill, Pete," Myka murmured. "She's…"
The Farnsworth started vibrating in Pete's pocket. "Hang on, Mykes." He flipped it open. "Go, Artie."
"Is it her?" Artie demanded.
Pete looked over at Myka, who was still deep into the file. "At this point, we think so."
"You have a name?"
"Her name is Wrenna Adelie, but they call her Adelie," Myka said. "How is she, Artie?"
"She won't leave the piano," Artie said. "But since she knocked Claudia out, she's been…"
"Whoa, whoa, she knocked Claudia out?" Pete demanded.
"Some sort of energy transfer," Artie said. "Claudia's fine. We're both fine. Any other information?"
"Nothing on the artifact so far," Myka said. "So far we're just elbow-deep in her file. She's a troubled, sick girl, Artie."
"I'll keep that in mind," Artie said. "I expect updates when you have them."
And the Farnsworth snapped shut on his end.
"Great," Pete said. He crossed the doctor's office and peeked out the tiny window. "No sign of that doctor fellow."
"He doesn't seem like he likes his job much," Myka said.
"Can you blame him? You saw this place," Pete said. "What else are you learning about our girl?"
"There's just… so much sadness, Pete."
06/2010. Patient suffered a break at the midline of the humerus secondary to fall from second-story window. Patient remains catatonic. Patient's arm was casted. Cast will be removed 6-8 weeks following satisfactory X-ray exam. Patient placed into soft restraints.
09/2010. Patient spoke spontaneously following removal of cast. Radiologic tech reported her as saying, "No" and "More." Patient did not repeat herself when asked. The midline humerus break has been completely repaired.
04/2011. Patient attacked another patient. Psychotic episode lasted 22 minutes and responded to 10 mg Haldol IM push q 2x. Patient nonresponsive. Patient taken to the soft room. Self-injurious behaviors continue. Patient placed in soft restraints. A woman with the same name as patient's mother (per birth certificate) was found in Hamburg, Illinois after being arrested for drunken driving and possession of marijuana. Woman claims not to have a daughter. Photographic array produced negative results.
05/2011. Catatonia broken. Patient spontaneously said, "Piano." Patient was subsequently taken to the piano. Patient wept.
07/2011. Patient fascinated with window in the soft room. Patient persists in biting fingers. Placed in soft restraints overnight.
09/2011. Patient required 25 stitches after persisted in playing with window in soft room. Maintenance staff and psych techs unaware as to how patient could injure self – glass had been glazed from the outside and .5-inch-diameter steel bars had been installed along every 1 inch of glass. Patient placed in hard restraints.
10/2011. Patient spontaneously spoke. Psych tech reported her as saying, "Piano. Please. Sorry" and then repeating "Sorry" until psych tech asked her what she needed to apologize for. Patient appeared confused and disoriented.
12/2011. Patient spontaneously sang. Following dinner on Christmas Eve, patient played "The First Noel" and sang, fluidly and flawlessly. Following the song, patient was inconsolable.
04/2012. Patient fascinated with windows. Refuses to move away from windows in dining hall, nurses' station, bathroom, playroom, etc. Staff confused because patient is reported to have no usable vision.
06/2012. Patient suffered three-hour psychotic episode. Broke window in the nurses' station. Required 12 stitches. Following medical intervention (5.0 mg Haldol) patient began babbling and screaming. Patient placed into hard restraints.
08/2012. Patient uttering spontaneous syllables; otherwise incoherent. Endlessly fiddles with fingers. Stands in front of windows. Self-injurious behavior continues. Psychotic episodes are no longer responding to 5.0 mg Haldol IM. Patient no longer has observable wake-sleep cycles. Piano playing has become erratic, interrupted by psychotic breaks.
"Pete, she's losing control," Myka said, looking up. "Or getting worse."
"So… she's fascinated with music and windows?" Pete asked, mentally reviewing what Myka had told him. "What do we have that combines those two?"
The door banged open before Myka could respond, and Dr. Wilson-Farrell reappeared. "Nasty bit of a life, isn't it?" he asked without pretense. "Ten years she's been here – ten years she's had no meaningful interactions. Soon as she's eighteen we ship her out to the long-term adult facility in Downers Grove."
"Do you know what events preceded her arrival here?" Myka wanted to know. "It says here that a CPS agent brought her. How did they find her?"
"A neighbor saw a broken window in the basement of the house next door," Dr. Wilson-Farrell said. "She went over to investigate, thinking that a neighborhood vandal had struck again. When she looked in through the window, she saw the girl."
Pete turned away from the doctor's diplomas. "And the search for her parents?"
"Unsuccessful. Like I said, until she disappeared outa here, nobody cared who she was."
"Can we see where she stayed?" Myka asked. "It might help us to… gather some clues."
The doctor snorted. "If you say so. She's blind, non-verbal, and illiterate. It isn't like she was leaving a whole lot of clues around."
He stuck his head out the door. "Hey, Marcia!"
A psych nurse with a helmet of blond hair appeared in the doorway. "Can I help you, Doctor?"
"These are the Secret Service agents," the doctor said, putting special emphasis on "secret" and "service." He sat down in his desk chair. "Could you show them to Ward 15?"
"Of course, Doctor." Marcia smiled. "Right this way."
"She has a name," Artie said as he closed the Farnsworth. "Adelie. That's your name, isn't it? Adelie?"
The girl's fingers paused on the keys in the midst of some Tchaikovsky. She flicked her eyes at the door leading out of the Warehouse.
Claudia looked at Artie. "Adelie," she said. "Adelie, I'm Claudia."
"And I'm Artie," Artie said. "Now we're all introduced."
"Piano," Adelie said.
"That's right, that's our piano," Artie said. "Are you hungry?"
"Piano."
"Yes. That is a piano."
"Piano." With that, she bent her head over the piano and began playing again.
"We know you're from Illinois," Artie said. "We know that you stay in a special hospital there."
"Piano."
"And you play the piano there." Artie's voice was soft, kind. "And we're not mad that you're here. We just want what's best for you."
"Piano." She was getting more insistent.
"We know they hurt you there," Claudia broke in.
Artie gave her a look.
"Well, we do," Claudia said. "We know it's scary."
Adelie turned to look in Claudia's direction. She held out her hands, blatantly showing the bruise bracelets. "Sorry."
"No, no, sweetheart," Claudia said, and she wrapped her arms around the girl.
"Sorry. Sorry," Adelie whimpered into Claudia's chest.
"No, sweetheart, shhh," Claudia said.
"Sorry!" Adelie screamed. Her frantic hands grabbed onto Claudia's jacket.
"Shh," Claudia repeated helplessly.
The girl's heartbeat was frantic, like a sparrow caught in a trap. Her hands beat senselessly against Claudia's shoulders.
Artie stepped forward, ready to grab the girl if necessary. Claudia shook her head No.
"Adelie," she said, trying to keep the fear and worry out of her voice, "I know you're scared. And you're hungry. And tired. Would you like a cookie?"
"Piano."
"Yes, and then you can play the piano some more. We promise." She stood up, taking Adelie's hands in hers. "Come with me."
"No, no, no-no-no-no." Adelie panicked, her eyes going wild. She clawed the air, and, finding nothing to grab onto, began to scream, beating her hands against her head. "No-no-no—no-no-no… no… NO!"
Claudia's eyes went wide. She could feel terror sweeping over her. Her chest felt tight. She was too scared to move. Adelie's screams were taking her back to her time in the mental hospital – reminding her of things she thought she'd put in the past. She felt like she was choking. The room was spinning again.
There was a crack of blue light. Claudia closed her eyes and whimpered.
"Claudia, it's okay," Artie's voice said, breaking through her thoughts. "I Tesla'ed her."
Claudia let out a long breath. The girl was crumpled on the floor. "Artie… you…"
"You saw her," Artie said. "She was getting hysterical."
"She's never going to trust us again!" Claudia cried. "She doesn't trust anyone anyway, and then you shocked her!
Artie grabbed her shoulders. "Calm down," he said.
"No, Artie!" Claudia protested, aware that she was sounding crazier by the second. "She trusted us, and you broke that trust. You don't just shock people!"
"Do I have to Tesla you?" Artie set the gun on the desk. "We're going to take her back to the B and B and let her sleep it off. We don't have any answers right now."
He scooped Adelie off the floor.
Claudia stared at the place on the floor where the girl had been, tears building in her eyes.
"Are you with me, or not?" Artie demanded.
She wiped her eyes and followed him out of the office, out of the Warehouse.
Pete and Myka found Artie in a chair at the dining room table that night. Pete closed the door behind him. "We're back," he said.
"Did you bring me any more information?" Artie didn't look up from his notes.
"There's nothing, Artie," Myka said. "She showed up at the institution when she was five, and she's been there ever since. Growing more and more psychotic, more and more dangerous. Focused on music and windows."
"Windows," Artie said, looking up. "Windows?"
"Fascinated by them," Pete said, and set the copy of Adelie's file on the table. "So fascinated that she breaks them whenever she has the opportunity."
"Where is she now?" Myka asked. The B and B was far too quiet.
"Upstairs with Claudia," Artie said.
"What are they doing?" Myka was even more confused.
"I hope they're still both sleeping," Artie said.
"Wha-?"
"The girl got upset," Artie said, looking directly at Myka. "I had to Tesla her. Claudia got upset. Neither of them was in any shape to continue making good decisions, so they both went to bed. Our visitor is sleeping off the Tesla blast and Claudia is sleeping off the sedative I put in her tea."
He opened the file. "Thank you for bringing this back to me. We'll need to start looking for an artifact that might combine our young lady's talents with temporal shifts."
"Helen Keller's guide dog's harness?" Pete suggested.
"Helen Keller never had a guide dog," Artie said.
"Fine," Pete said, holding his hands up. "Guess I'm out of guesses."
"You sedated Claudia?" Myka was still stuck.
"I had no choice," Artie said.
"You always have a choice," Myka said.
She left Artie poring over the girl's file and hurried up the stairs.
The light in the hallway poured into Claudia's open door, and Myka caught her breath.
In the dim light, the two girls curled up on the bed looked like statues, like a painting. Claudia was closest to the bedside lamp. Her face, even in sleep, looked tense, as though she was having a bad dream. She was muttering something.
The Warehouse's newest visitor was on the farther side of the bed. Her eyes flicked back and forth under her closed lids, and she let out a soft, pained mewing. Her hands reached out for something that wasn't there.
Myka was about to enter the room, to wake the girls from their obviously-tortured sleep…
… when Claudia, as though responding to the girl's cries, rolled over and took the girl's bloody-fingered hands in hers, pulling the tiny dark-haired girl closer to her.
And in another breath, it was as though neither of them had ever moved. They were perfectly in tune, asleep.
It didn't make Myka worry any less, but it was something.
