He lifted his head slowly, stared at the faces around him. Surprisingly, it was Johann alone who looked as if he understood.
"When I got into the room," Ian said in a tired voice, "she was playing with a dead mouse."
Maeve looked up. "Really?" She reached for the doorknob.
Ian started to grab her wrist, then realized what he'd been about to do and yanked his hand back. "You can't have the mouse, Mother." He looked at Edith. "Take care of it, will you?"
The older woman bobbed her head. "Certainly, Doctor. And I'll feed the poor girl in there."
Ian sagged back against the door. He'd never felt so old and beaten and alone. "Yes, please do."
"What are you going to do, Dr. Carrick?" Andrew asked timidly.
"I'm in over my head, Andrew," Ian admitted, his voice trailing off. It humiliated him to even say the next words. "Maybe an alienist could help. . . ."
"You'll have to speak to one, then," Maeve said. "One with orange hair."
"There's Dr. Wellsby at the asylum in Pollusk," Johann said in a quiet voice.
Ian flinched. Yes, he knew there was Dr. Wellsby.
78
"Wellsby." Maeve said the name in a quiet, shaking voice, her eyes brimming suddenly with tears. "He doesn't have orange hair."
Ian sighed and closed his eyes. He didn't want to go see Wellsby?the thought of going back to that hellhole scared Ian to death. But he couldn't just forget about Selena, just pretend she'd never existed. Maybe there was something he'd overlooked, some radical treatment to the brain Ian didn't know about.
Wellsby would have the answers Ian needed.
If only he had a friend or family member to accompany him, but of course, his years of isolation had robbed him of any support he'd once had.
Johann stepped forward. "I could go with you."
Ian swallowed hard, his eyes opened slowly. He wanted to make some smart, cryptic comeback that would put Johann back in his place, but he couldn't.
He didn't have to go to that hellish place alone. He could at least sit in the darkened carriage with another human being. . . .
He nodded curtly and looked away, hoping Johann hadn't seen the naked gratitude in his eyes. "We'll leave in the morning."
Chapter Seven
Selena couldn't seem to stop crying.
She'd done something horribly wrong, and she had no idea what it was. She wiped the moisture from her slick, swollen face and flopped back on the bed. At the contact, pain exploded in her head.
She stared up at the cracked white ceiling, feeling the tears slide down her cheeks.
Ian had given up on her. She had seen the disappointment in his eyes when he looked at her, the burgeoning disgust when she touched him. She saw it, understood it, but there was nothing she could do about it, no way for her to tell him how sorry she was ... how much she missed his smile and his voice in the darkness.
He wanted her to care who she was, but she didn't. Those feelings just weren't inside her. Everything before waking up in this bed was gone, like that candle flame when she touched it. Gone.
She'd tried. For Ian, she'd tried to find some answers in the garbled mush that was her mind. But there was nothing inside her except for a great gaping hole where the memories should be.
She was bad. Stupid.
And she wanted another chance. "Please ..." Please what? She didn't even know what to pray for, what to hope for.
79