“Tell me something.”
“Yes?”
“Do you think someone could be trying to gaslight you?”
What did he know? She searched his face for the lie, for knowledge, but saw none of it.
“Is it possible? Could someone be trying to make you crazy? Make you doubt your sanity?”
She looked down at her clasped hands, at her fingernails. She realized that she hadn’t chewed her nails since she’d been in The Cove. No, since she’d met him. They didn’t look so ragged. She said finally, not looking at him, because it was awful, what she was, what she had been, perhaps what she still was today, right now. “Why?”
“I’d have to say that someone’s afraid of you, afraid of what you might possibly know. This someone wants to eliminate you from the game, so to speak.” He paused, looking toward the ocean, fancying he could hear the crashing waves, but he couldn’t, Amabel’s cottage was just a bit too far for that. “The question is why this someone would go this route. You’re about the sanest person I know, Sally. Who could possibly think he could make you believe you were nuts?”
She loved him for that. Loved him without reservation, without any question. She gave him a big grin. It came from the deepest part of her, a place that had been empty for so long she’d forgotten that it was possible to feel this good, this confident in herself, and in someone else.
“I was nuts,” she said, still grinning, feeling the incredible relief of telling someone the truth, of telling him. “At least that’s what they wanted everyone to believe. They kept me drugged up for six months until I finally got it together enough to hide the medication under my tongue and not swallow it. The nurse always forced my mouth open and ran her fingers all inside to make sure I’d taken the pills. I don’t know how I managed to keep the pill hidden, but I did. I did it for two days, until I was together enough. Then I escaped. And then I got the ring off my finger and threw it in a ditch.”
He knew she’d been in a sanitarium, a very expensive posh little resort sanitarium in Maryland. All very private. But this? She’d been a prisoner? Drugged to her gills?
He looked at her for a long time. Her smile faltered. He just shook his head at her, cupped her face in his hand, and said, “How would you like to come back to Thelma’s place and share my tower room with me? I’ll take the sofa and you can have the bed. I won’t make any moves on you, I swear. We can’t just sit here for the rest of the night. It’s damp and I don’t want either of us to get sick.”
“And then what?”
“We’ll think more about that tomorrow. If it was a woman who put the call through, then we need to figure out who it could have been. And I want to know why you were in that place for six months.”
She was snaking her head even as he spoke. He knew she regretted spilling it to him now. After all, she didn’t know him, didn’t have a clue if she could trust him or not. She said, “You know, I have another question. Why did Martha answer Amabel’s phone and not Amabel?”
“That’s a good one, but the answer’s probably just as simple as that Martha happened to be standing next to the phone when it rang. Don’t get paranoid, Sally.”
He carried her duffel bag, his other hand under her arm. She was limping, but it wasn’t bad, not a sprain, as she’d
feared. He didn’t want to haul her over to Doc Spiver’s. Only the good Lord knew what that old man might do. Probably want to give her artificial respiration.
He had a key to the front door of Thelma’s Bed and Breakfast. All the lights were out. They walked to his tower room without waking Thelma or Martha. James knew there was only one other guest, who had come in just today, an older woman who’d been nice and smiling and had said that she was here to visit her daughter in the subdivision, but she’d always wanted to stay here, in one of the tower rooms. Thank God, she’d said, that there were two. Which meant she was on the other side of the huge house.