Unless his state had to do with other, less benign activities.
“Quentin,” she said, shaping each word distinctly. “Where have you been?”
He tried to get up and fell back, head rolling against the tree trunk. “At… the saloon.” He coughed out a laugh. “Can’t you tell?”
“Is that all?”
“I… don’t remember.”
Such a simple, terrible phrase. “Tell me what you do remember.”
On the second try his efforts to stand were more successful. He propped himself against the tree, swaying.
“I went into town,” he mumbled.
“Did you go through the papers in my office?”
“I wanted to find out about May.”
“And you did.”
He took a step toward her and paused to catch his balance. “I found out about her father.”
Lecturing him on the impropriety of viewing private documents was the furthest thing from Johanna’s mind. “And you went into town to do what, Quentin?”
“To… see him.”
“Did you see him?”
“I think—” He clutched at his head. “Don’t. Please.”
He wasn’t talking to her, she was certain of it. “What did you do when you saw him, Quentin?”
With uncharacteristic awkwardness he spun on his foot and staggered back to the tree, hugging it with both arms. “I went and got drunk.”
“Something happened in town last night, Quentin, while you were gone.”
His profile was stark and pale, cheek pressed to rough bark. “God.”
Johanna came to a decision. She couldn’t leave him like this, or allow both of them to remain unaware of what he’d done and unprepared for the consequences. Patient or not, she must continue to treat him to the best of her ability until this crisis was past.
“I would like to hypnotize you, Quentin—now. Can you walk with me to my office?”
He pushed away and started for the house, not waiting for her. She caught up and took a firm grip on his arm. May saw them first, and came running. Her face fell when she got a good look at Quentin.
“Quentin isn’t feeling well,” Johanna said, guiding him past the girl. “He needs to rest.”
“Yes,” May whispered. Oscar joined her, but neither made a move to follow them into the house.
Quentin fell back onto the chaise as if the short walk from the orchard had exhausted him. She made a more thorough inspection of his body for wounds or evidence of struggle, but found none. If he had been the one to attack Ingram, the other man hadn’t left a mark on him when he’d defended himself.
If Quentin had attacked. If…
His half-dazed state made him even more susceptible to hypnosis than usual, and he went into a deep trance the moment she finished her induction.
“I would like you to do the best you can to answer my questions, Quentin. Reach into your memory, with no fear of what you may find.”
His closed lids fluttered, but he made no answer.
“Let us start from the beginning. You went into town.”
“Yes.” His voice was flat, unemotional.
“To see May’s father.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was worried about May. I read in your notes that he might have hurt her before she came here.”
Johanna damned her own meticulous nature that demanded the recording of each thought and observation related to every patient within her care, no matter how based upon conjecture or guesswork. She doubly damned her carelessness in not locking those notes away.
“Did you think that May was in danger from her father?” she asked.
“I had to find out.”
“And did you?”
Silence. She must approach the subject more cautiously.
“How did you find him?”
“You said where he was. I went to the hotel and found his rooms.”
“When was this, Quentin?”
“After midnight.”
That jibed with what Irene had said. “Was he there?”
Quentin’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”
“What did you observe when you found him?”
“He was… with a young girl.”
Johanna became aware that her hands were fastened upon the arms of her chair. She stretched her fingers one by one.
“What was he doing, Quentin?”
“Forcing his attentions upon her.”
She shut down her own feelings. “In what way?”
No answer.
“What did you feel, when you saw this?”