So that fits.
There’s nothing else after that. Just the one set of altered messages.
I play it again. Then again.
Except for the obvious fact that Donovan woke up and Doc actually managed to get both personalities to speak in the same message—and the alterations—there is really nothing notable about this recording, so I close my eyes and wonder what kind of excuse I might come up with to bow out of this little project sooner rather than later.
“That’s it, then? Gonna give up already?”
My eyes fly open and for a moment I’m confused. Then I realize Donovan is sitting up in bed. Those disturbing, turbulent hazel eyes glaring intently at me.
I grab the arms of my chair and sit up straight. “What?”
“You,” he says. American accent. So it’s Carter. That’s how he talks. Donovan has a British accent. “You look tired. You just got here, Merc. You’re giving up already? We’re just getting started.”
“You’re—”
“That’s right, I’m him. What do you want?”
What do I want? Fuck! I’m unprepared. “I want… answers,” I say.
“Of course you do.” But now he speaks with a different accent. British.
“Donovan?”
“We’re both here,” Donovan says.
“What the fuck? You’re not even unconscious? You’re faking it?”
“No.” He chuckles this word out and his eyes dance a little. Like he’s having fun. “We’re not faking.”
“What do you want?” That’s Carter. “You better ask fast. We can’t do this for long.”
“Why are you here?” I say. “Why now? And… how are you even awake?” My gaze darts over to check the IV. Because he should not be able to talk under these drugs. But the IV has been pulled out and a small trickle of blood is flowing over the side of his left hand.
“We’re more in control than you think.”
I reach over, grab the recorder, and press the red button.
But when I look back, Donovan’s eyes are closed again and he’s lying down in bed. “Hey!” I get up, walk over there, and shake his shoulder. “I know you’re awake! What the hell?”
No response. From either of them.
“Is everything OK in here?”
I whirl around and find Nick standing in the entrance to the front breezeway, backlit by a setting sun.
How did it get so dark?
“Merc?” Nick walks over to me. “You OK?”
I look back at Donovan. Then at Nick. “He woke up.”
“What?”
“Yeah. He woke up! He talked to me! They both talked to me!”
Nick’s eyes dart over my shoulder. “He was talking?”
When I turn, I find Nurse Cerene staring at me with a quizzical cock of her head. She looks like a deer in headlights. But she slowly shakes her head. “No. He—” She nods her head to me. “He fell asleep. Donovan didn’t wake up. I was here the whole time.” Her eyes dart to mine. “You fell asleep. It was probably a dream.”
Dream?
No. It wasn’t a dream.
But when I look down at my palm, I’m not holding a little recorder. That’s when I look out the window and notice it’s nearly dark. So time did pass. More than a couple minutes, which is what I experienced, so…
“Anyway,” Nick says, “I wanna show you something.” That’s when I realize he’s holding a box. “We found this in Donovan’s office in town. Where do you wanna look at it?”
Hell if I know. It’s not my house, but he says, “Sasha and Nate are cooking dinner, Maggie and Indie are in the garden with Wendy, and I do not want to do it here.” He eyeballs Donovan. I have to agree with that. “Let’s go upstairs to my room.”
I’m too disoriented to disagree, so I follow him back down the front breezeway, across the main living room, and up the grand staircase. I haven’t been in the attic, so when we get up there, I take a moment to look around. It’s a nice room. A little bit claustrophobic with its long, narrow layout, but it’s not cluttered like most attics. Books line a series of built-in shelves around the window and the bed is tucked into a dormer, giving it a very cozy feeling. There’s also a fireplace. And when I think about the layout of the house, I realize that this fireplace chimney must be connected to the one down in Donovan’s hospital room.
Nick plops the box down on the bed without fanfare and pulls the top off.
“Files, huh?” I ask.
“No. Not just files.” And then he proceeds to fill me in on what they found in town.
I picture it as he talks. The cages, the dead rats, the basement.
When he’s done, the only thing I can think to say is, “What the fuck?”
“I think Pearl Springs was Carter’s base. I think if we look a little harder, we might find more.”
“Do you think there’s more in that print shop?”
He shakes his head. “No. I don’t know what that place was. But I don’t think Donovan, or Carter, is dumb enough to put everything in one place. Not in some random town where his friends might find it. I mean, Indie said she knew about the office. What was stopping her from poking around and finding out all his secrets?”