Toad was dazed, confused and his legs hurt from sitting in the chair for too long. The questioning had been going for a seemingly impossibly long time. He found himself squinting from the dangling dim lamps, but there was enough light to let him make out Kicksworth and Pennington beside him.

"What is your name?" Kicksworth asked him. "It's a simple question."

"I don't remember," groaned Toad.

"You don't remember?" scoffed Kicksworth and Toad felt like hitting his head. They had been here before. He remembered that much at least. Instead, Toad just shook his head and looked down at the cold grey concrete floor. "Toad…," muttered Kicksworth and he threw done a photograph at the table before his suspect. It was a black and white of a murder victim. "… Murderer." Another photo went down. Then there was another victim. Another and another. Each photograph was more vivid and grisly than the last. "Jog your memory?" Toad remained silent. He didn't have to answer this buffoon. "How about this one?"

He threw done a picture of Jolene. She was horribly mutilated and very clearly dead. "God," gasped Toad. "No." He started to shake in in a primal action with no thought, he leapt across the table for Kicksworth. "Bastard!" he cried, but his rage was quickly halted by the guards as they grabbed him from behind. They readily planted him back on his chair.

"We count eight so far," noted Kicksworth. "Anyone we missed?"

"I told you," sobbed Toad. "I didn't kill anyone."

"Come on, Toad," sighed Kicksworth. "We can place you at several of the crimes. Your wife couldn't verify your whereabouts."

"Where have you been these past three weeks?" asked Pennington but Toad just looked at him, completely lost and unable to answer.

"I don't remember," came the answer, once more.

"What do you remember?" mocked Kicksworth.

"I don't remember anything before I woke up in the hotel…," answered Toad.

"What were you doing there?" inquired Kicksworth.

"I don't remember."

"What's the doctor got to do with this?" added in Pennington.

"I… don't remember… please," pleaded Toad.

"Okay," Kicksworth motioned to the guards and they immediately hauled him off by the arms. "I don't buy this amnesia business." It was the last thing Toad heard before the doors to the interrogation room were closed behind him. The next few minutes passed by in a blur. For a few minutes, he was taken to a small compound between buildings where a small crowd of citizenry stood to mock him. They all chanted murderer in unison and some even threw trash down at him. When the guards pushed Toad through a door, though, it was as if he'd never been.

All of Toad's belongings were spread out on Pennington's desk. He didn't pay too much mind to the photo of Chanterelle, the postcard of Keelhaul Key or the wallet, but he needed them there in front of him to make sense of it all. He flipped through Toad's notebook and was totally absorbed, not even batting an eye when Lahla hurriedly entered his office. "Sir, it's about the little girl," said Lahla, "the prostitute's daughter."

"Yeah?" asked Pennington, not removing his eyes from the notebook.

"She still won't speak," said Lahla, "but she did this." He handed Pennington a crumpled sheet of paper. It was a drawing of two men… no, two statues with faces like hawks with impossibly long knives. They were slashing at a woman, whose posture seemed to indicate that she was screaming.

Toad was led into an empty room with a glass barrier down the middle, with several columns splitting the barriers and a desk and phone on each side for communication. The guards sat him in a chair and then walked to the shadowy corners of the room. The door on the other side of the barrier opened with a squeak and Chanterelle stepped in, her expression nervous. Toad practically ignored her as she sat down in front of him of him.

"Dane?" she asked, he could barely hear her voice. The glass was a near perfect barrier. "They told me I could come see you." He still didn't look up. "I'm your wife, Dane," she choked, and he looked at her slowly.

Chanterelle held her hands on the glass as Toad grabbed the phone and put it to his ear. She quickly did the same and noticed how intently, how desperately he was looking at her eyes. It was almost unnerving. The steel on his handcuffs glistened under the lamplight.

"Dane, I'm so sorry," she said, putting herhand to the glass barrier. "I never meant to hurt you Dane and I did, and I don't know why I did, and I wish I could take it all back." She was rushing her words, trying to say everything that she possibly could, as if her time was almost up.

"Chanterelle, you didn't do it," he said, his voice quietening to a whisper. "Whatever it is that you think you're supposed to have done… you didn't do it." He said it so as-a-matter-of-factly. "I don't believe it ever happened."

"What do you mean?" she questioned.

"I know this is going to sound crazy," he said, looking down to the sill of the barrier, "but what if we didn't know each other as this before now… what if the first time we ever met as a married couple was last night in your… in our apartment. What if the thing you remember and everything I'm supposed to remember never really happened? Someone just wants us to think it did." He could see the tears forming in her eyes as she turned away and could practically feel her shaky breath. "I thought it would make more sense," he said into the phone. "I've got the pieces now, but when I put it all together it's… it feels wrong… you're telling me about somebody else."

"No," gasped Chanterelle. "I wouldn't lie to you." Toad just stood up and turned his back on her, walking across the room. He watched his reflection through the mirror.

Pennington walked into the observation room and joined a lone cop as he sat next to a tape recorder. Together, they could hear the filtered voice of Chanterelle through a speaker.

"I need you… I…," said Chanterelle as her voice quickly faltered. "Please, Dane you're hurting me so much." Pennington stepped over to the observation room window and watched the two interact through the glass. Toad never took his eyes off of Chanterelle's eyes as she faltered with her coat and started to open her blouse. "Look at me Dane. You used to tell me I was beautiful. Don't you think I'm beautiful anymore?" Pennington glanced away, feeling immoral watching the private moment.

"Stop it," said Dane and she did. "I'm not trying to hurt you." She looked at him and then covered her face, her eyes full of tears. "What's your name?"

"Chanterelle."

"Of course… it's a beautiful name."

"I feel worthless. I want to help you, but I don't know how."

"You can help," said Dane and he looked at her intensely. "Have you ever heard of a place called Keelhaul Key?"

"It's your home town…"

"How do I get there?" he asked. "Tell me."

"Sure," she said and it seemed so obvious. She smiled because she was happy to be doing something for her husband. "I'll tell you… you…" Her voice trailed off into a silence, her hand, about to point in a direction stopped mid air. "Funny, I don't remember."

"Yeah," he whispered. "Funny."

"You know, before you left, back in the apartment," she said, shaking with each breath, "I suddenly felt like I didn't know you at all. It was as if you were a stranger." She took a deep breath. "But how can that be true? I so vividly remember meeting you. I remember falling in love with you. I remember losing you." The guards came up behind Toad as he looked her in the eye and grabbed onto his shoulders. "Wait! Wait," she said, standing up to face the guards, "Just another minute?" Toad could barely hear her voice without the phone connection. The guards relented and backed away and Chanterelle put the phone back to her face. "I love you, Toad. You can't fake something like that."

She put her hand on the glass. "No, you can't," he agreed, and they put their phones down. He reached out toward her, his hand shook and as soon as it neared the glass, it shattered into a thousand pieces and the guards immediately mobilized. He grabbed Chanterelle's face and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek before the guards pulled him away and took him away behind a solid steel door.

Pennington turned from the sight and returned to his office with Lahla by his side. It didn't shock him when the phone began to ring. Instead, he picked it up casually, as if he always knew it would ring. "Gadd, is that you?" he asked.

"If you're smart, you'll listen to what I have to say, Pennington, and do exactly as I tell you," answered the doctor.