“Right, solitary,” said Mitch. “I saw you limp a bit coming in. Are you injured?”
“Every muscle in my body is sore,” said Eve, slumping in her chair. “But I’m okay otherwise.”
“Have you had any PT?”
Edgewater might have been lacking in many areas, but their medical facilities were top-notch.
“No.”
“I’ll call Dr. Bouvier after our session, get you an appointment for the whirlpool tub. It’ll help your muscles to relax. They have suits you can borrow, so you can enjoy a full soak. You’ll feel like a new person.”
“All of me?”
She sent Mitch a wink he found endearing. Now it was time to get down to business.
Mitch didn’t have the pull to get evidence from the investigative unit that handled crimes in prisons, but Whitmore did, and he was in good standing with her. Which is why, by the time Eve came to see him, Mitch already had the note from Darla’s Bible upside down on the table ready to show her.
“I want you to have a look at something for me, Eve,” Mitch said, respectfully, gently, “and I’d like your honest reaction to it.”
Eve cocked her head slightly sideways.
“Have I been anything but?” She sent him a malevolent smile that paired well with the searing look in her eyes.
“Okay, then.” He turned over the note, secured inside a clear plastic evidence bag and tagged with case details encoded for the police to understand. “What do you make of this?”
Eve’s eyes scanned the paper through the plastic while Mitch scanned Eve. He was mindful that the note, if it had come from her hand or that of another alter, might trigger a switch. Sitting quiet and still, she read the words on the paper, written in blue crayon, first to herself, then aloud, speaking in an affectless voice as though reciting a passage from some classroom textbook.
“‘Darla, sorry to tell but Penny Francone calls herself Eve slept with Charles. I saw pictures. Can’t get to show U but they were doing it. You should do something about it.’”
Eve glared at Mitch scornfully.
“How does that note make you feel?”
“Pissed off. Like someone clearly wanted Darla to be,” she said curtly. “No wonder she came after me.”
“Eve, I want you to check in with yourself now … with you, and with your alters.”
Eve’s lips twisted into something of a smile. “You think I know who wrote this … somebody here who might want to see me dead, is that it?”
“Something like that,” Mitch said. “Go ahead, close your eyes, and check in with yourself. Ask Ruby, Chloe, Penny, any of them … does somebody here at Edgewater wish to do you harm? Don’t think, just feel, and respond with whatever your subconscious mind has to say.”
Mitch knew that for most people, over 95 percent of all brain activity was beyond conscious awareness. For someone with DID, seeking out a conscious thought, a memory, an idea, was an especially difficult hunt.
She contemplated the question quietly with her eyes shut tight, and eventually returned a solemn shake of her head. There was nothing.
Mitch wasn’t quite ready to give up. He considered the possibility that writing the note was a state-dependent memory, encoded into her brain and kept from her consciousness as part of a neural defense mechanism. Mitch’s hope was that he might be able to stimulate her mind enough to get an answer.
“Imagine you’re in your room. Picture it.”
“Room at home, or here in my cell?” said Eve.
“Your quarters here,” said Mitch.
“Okay, my cell.”
“Put yourself there. Sit at your desk and think to yourself, ‘I’m a bad girl.’ Say it over and over in your mind … ‘I’m a bad girl.’”
Eve opened her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I’m not.”
“It’s like a rap song. I’m baaaad girl. Wicked baaaaad girl.” She said it with a hint of melody while doing a wiggling dance move in her chair.
“Please, Eve,” said Mitch, trying to keep his annoyance in check. “This isn’t fun and games. I need your cooperation here. It’s important.”
Eve stuck out her tongue a little ways—a childish gesture, but one meant to convey Mitch had no fun in him. Despite her brief protest, Eve shut her eyes, but raised her head so she would be looking at Mitch if they were open.
“Really?”
“Really.”
She went quiet, and Mitch could almost hear her reciting Chloe’s words of guilt and remorse.