Grace saw her daughter blink several times in rapid succession before touching her head, as if suffering from a headache.
What the heck did they give her?
It occurred to her that Dr. McHugh may have in fact caused the problem, prescribing new meds or doses on a whim, trying to make his mark without first knowing the patient or the case. This place was so backward it made Grace fume with anger.
Lifting the lid on the pizza box, Grace freed a cheesy scent that battled back the lingering aroma of ammonia.
“What’s this?”
Out of nowhere, it was Penny’s gentle voice asking the question, not Eve’s harsher cadence.
A knot of concern formed at the base of Grace’s neck before the shock and panic set in.
Oh no … what if…？
“It’s pizza, darling. Your favorite.”
“I hate pepperoni,” she said, sounding perplexed that her mother of all people could have forgotten.
Oh no … no … no …
The rest of the switch took place before Grace’s eyes. There was a slight rounding of her daughter’s shoulders as her body sagged forward, and as it did, Penny’s familiar tight-lipped worried expression came into being.
“Where am I?” Penny asked.
Alarms rang out in Grace’s head. She couldn’t speak, didn’t know how to begin.
“What is this place, Mom?” Penny’s head moved as if on a swivel, darting this way and that, taking in her surroundings: the drab concrete walls, the scuffed-up table, the dirty floor, baffled by it all. She tugged on her uniform, her hands now trembling.
“What’s going on here?” Her gentle voice shook with rising panic.
Her daughter wasn’t drugged. She was in the middle of a switch from Eve back to Penny, a switch that had been triggered for reasons unknown.
She doesn’t know. God help her, Grace thought. Penny doesn’t know what happened.
From Penny’s perspective, she’d come back from being Eve into a strange place, with no idea where she was, no memory of how she’d come to be here. A fugue state—that was how Grace had explained it to Navarro, who had asked about the memory gaps that occurred when one alter took over from another. The personalities were so distinct that some specialists speculated there wasn’t any room for shared memory.
“Where … am I?” Penny asked again.
“Let me get Dr. McHugh,” Grace said, her anxiety pulsing like a throbbing wound.
If she knew the truth …
“Who is Dr. McHugh?”
Grace had to think fast how to respond. “He’s the person looking after you,” she said.
And he’s going to have a hell of a first week on the job.
“Looking after me? Where?” Again, Penny tugged on her uniform, which must have seemed so foreign to her.
“You’re in a hospital,” Grace said, still reeling.
“For what? Am I hurt?” Penny surveyed her arms, her hands, looking for signs of injury, finding none.
“No, darling. Nothing like that. It’s not that kind of hospital.”
“Then what? Mom, what am I doing here?” Desperation leaked into her daughter’s voice. She clutched her sides tightly, as if holding herself together. “Please … please…” Tears seeped into her eyes. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Eve had never been a welcome member of the family, but Grace found herself desperately missing that girl’s brash bravado and cool confidence.
You can’t tell her, not now, not without guidance.
As much as Grace had prayed for this moment, for Penny’s return, she wasn’t at all prepared for her sudden appearance.
CHAPTER 7
“WHY AM I HERE, Mom?”
Mom … that’s what Penny always called her, not Mother.
Sinking to her knees, in that pious position, Penny tugged urgently on her hair, one clump clutched in each hand, as if doing so could somehow pull the answer from her head. Bright color flooded her cheeks, red as a warning. Her mouth quivered before thick tears rained down.
“Relax, sweetheart,” Grace said, stepping forward with the tentativeness of a rancher approaching a wild colt. She knew any effort to calm her would be in vain.
In response, Penny rose to her feet to face the wall behind her and began pawing frantically at the concrete as if to dig her way out.
Her futile attempt at escape was blessedly short-lived. Turning to face the only exit, Penny squared off with two guards who had appeared, summoned from the ether. One was CO Blackwood, who moments ago had escorted Penny to his room. Grace remembered his dimpled chin and those narrowly spaced eyes. She didn’t know the name of his heavier-set companion, but both he and Blackwood lurked in the doorway, impassively watching the situation escalate. They had their guns holstered, while other implements used for command and control: handcuffs, sprays, Tasers, maybe chemical restraints—were secured inside the leather pockets and holders of their utility belts.