Page 70 of The Broken Places

Is that what fueled your desire to hunt down criminals who’d gotten away with murder? And others who are lost?She pictured Ambrose’s intense expression. He’d spent the last seventeen years tracking down killers and victims, but as what? Amends for the trauma he’d locked away in his brain? Secrets that Dr. Sweeton had exposed?

Who did the treatment ultimately benefit? Dr. Sweeton or the patients?

Was it only those with “brain damage” that could undergo the treatment? She didn’t think so. Ambrose had mentioned something about those with less-ingrained trauma going through a shorter protocol. So even if Dr. Sweeton’s focus was on those with debilitating PTSD, he’d obviously treated much less severe cases. She certainly didn’t consider herself to be traumatized, but she’d lived through a traumatizing event. If she was to truly understand Project Bluebird to decide for herself if she felt it was ethical, shouldn’t she ...be treated? Could it actually be of value to society? Help bridge the gap between those tossed back onto the streets and those put in jail?

She had to understand it fully to know.

With one more glance up at the tinted windows of the psych ward, she pulled up the text from Ambrose and used the number he’d sent it from to call him.

“Lennon.”

She pulled in a deep breath and then let it out. “I want to experience it.”

He was silent for a beat as though he was questioning what she was referring to. “No,” he finally said.

“Why? If it’s safe, then why? I can’t agree not to expose what I know is part of an ongoing multiple-murder investigation involving a serial killer unless I understand what I’m protecting.”

“Because, Lennon, with this type of treatment, you have to weigh the risks and rewards. Your mind isn’t bent. You don’t live with debilitating trauma.”

“In small part I do.” She didn’t pretend to be affected anywhere near the degree others were, but she’d suffered. She’d grieved. But how could she allow others to go through the treatment if she didn’t fully understand it? Ambrose had done it. More than five hundred others had done it, and only one, Dr. Sweeton’s daughter, had died. According to them. But if shewasgoing to trust those numbers, the odds were pretty darn good. “You said Dr. Sweeton had a two-day protocol for people who didn’t require the full seven days, like you did.”

“Dr. Sweeton rarely treats patients like that. He has far too many who are desperately in need, as opposed to those who struggle mildly but live functional lives. Plus, logistically, it’s not possible. He needs weeks to prepare. He requires a full workup, both physical and mental, brain scans—”

“He might not have a choice. And I know exactly what’s in the pills. They’re hallucinogens. I’ll consent to taking them. People have wild weekends in college all the time and come out of it just fine. This is even better because I’ll be continually monitored.”

“Lennon—”

“Those are my terms, DeMarce. I have to know.”

He was quiet for several moments, and she could sense his tension emanating through the phone. “This might take you somewhere you don’t want to go.”

Somewhere she didn’t want to go.Back there. To that convenience store in the middle of the night.

“I can handle it,” she insisted. “Tell Dr. Sweeton my terms. And Ambrose, it needs to be soon, possibly today. I’m off until Friday, and there was another ‘BB’ murder last night. We’re dealing with a serial killer who’s targeting this therapy. And maybe this will help me understand why.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

December 10

Patient Number 0548

Buzz, crackle, shivery light. Fear. It was up ahead, she sensed it as much as she saw it, the pulse oflight and dark, light and dark, the way nothing else existed in this black landscape except the pulsing gas station, somehow pulling her toward it.No, oh no, don’t make me go there. Not there.

That’s when she felt the brush of something against her leg, warmth flooding her body as she reached down and petted his head. A Saint Bernard, his fur warm and soft. She continued stroking his head,back, forth, back, forth. And when the animal began to walk, toward that pulsing light, she didn’t hesitate; she moved with him.

The dog was wearing a thick collar, and Lennon gripped it, finding strength in the canine’s sure movements and the fact that she was not alone. She felt the love of the animal radiating through her hand and down her limbs and knew that he would not leave her side, no matter what happened.

The gas station was deserted except for one lone car, the red Mazda that Tanner had been driving since high school.Oh.She heard a brittle noise, as though her heart were made of glass and a crack had just zippered down the middle. She’d forgotten that car. Where had it gone?

The dog nudged her thigh, and she kept moving, toward the door to that convenience store where her world had split in two. She was currently in the before, but when she stepped inside, she’d be in the after. She wanted to stay here, in the place where young men with their whole future in front of them didn’t die, in the place where life happened just as you’d planned it. Oh, it hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, and she couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t bear the feeling of standing in the shoes of the girl she’d been, such hopeful surety in her heart. An ache rose inside so massive that it threatened to sweep her away.Back, forth, back, forth.She gripped his collar as the Saint Bernard who loved her rubbed his head on her leg, soothing, comforting.You can do this. I’m right here.

But I don’t want to. Why must I?

Because you must be able to tell your story. All of it. It has a beginning, a middle, and an end. You’ve forgotten the middle, haven’t you? The middle is the most important part.

The dog nudged her, and so she moved with him, pulling the door open and entering the store. The lights were soft in here, no buzzing. Just a quiet store on a quiet night, the clerk sitting behind the counter, reading a textbook and singing along to the Muzak playing on the speakers overhead. The music became louder, blaring in her head for a moment, about piña coladas and walking in the rain. Then as quickly as it’d blared, it lowered, and that’s when she saw him. “Tanner,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.Oh.Her heart squeezed and dipped and expanded. “Tanner.” He was laughing, and his hair had fallen over his forehead the way it did. She hadn’t remembered so many things about him, and she felt terrible about that. But she could memorize them now because he was here, right in front of her, alive.

Barely visible rays of light moved from her to him and back again, some energy she didn’t know how to describe because she’d never experienced it before. Oddly shaped numbers glowed everywhere in that same elusive light, bouncing off each other and changing into other numbers.

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