Hazel loosened the strap over Sage’s chest and let it fall to the sides of the gurney, metal striking metal with an ear-piercing clang. Then she lowered one of the railings and stepped back, silent but on high alert.
“Were you in the woods this time?” Dr. Baldwin continued. “Or hiding in the basement somewhere?”
Sage sat up and swung her legs over the side of the gurney, rubbing her wrists. The room spun around her and she grabbed the mattress, closed her eyes, and waited for the dizziness to pass. For the love of God, please make it stop.
“Are you all right?” Dr. Baldwin said.
She opened her eyes and nodded, doing her best to look sane while feeling anything but. “I’m fine,” she said, and started to get down. Before her feet could touch the floor, however, Hazel stepped forward, pressed a hand against her shoulder, and shook her head.
“Hold on,” Dr. Baldwin said. “There’s no hurry to get back to your ward. We need to talk first.”
“But I—”
He held up a hand to silence her. “I need you to tell me where you’ve been.”
Sage locked eyes with him. “I haven’t been anywhere,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “I live over in Mariners Harbor with my stepfather, Alan Tern. He’s the one who told me Rosemary was missing from Willowbrook. I didn’t even know she was alive until then. That’s why I came here, to help look for her. But my purse was stolen on the bus and now everyone thinks I’m her. But I’m not. We’re identical twins and look exactly the same.”
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Baldwin said, “but I’ve spoken with your mother many times over the years and she never mentioned anything about Rosemary having a twin sister. There’s a girl in your ward, I believe her name is Norma, who you call your sister, but that’s it. We’ve talked about this several times since you came to stay with us, and I’ve explained that it’s all part of your condition. Sage isn’t real, remember?”
Her breath caught in her throat. “No,” she said. “You’re wrong. I’m Sage. And I’m real. Rosemary is my twin sister and she’s still missing.” She pressed a hand over her churning stomach, fighting the urge to swear and scream. How many times did she have to say it? “So why aren’t you out looking for her? Why aren’t the cops here with a search party?”
He chuckled to himself, as if amused by a private joke. Then, in that same condescending tone, he said, “Let’s start over, shall we? Like I said, you’ve been through quite an ordeal, and it’s not uncommon to have short-term memory loss after experiencing trauma. Especially for someone with your disorders.”
“But I haven’t been through an ordeal or experienced any trauma, up until that other doctor strapped me down and drugged me. And I don’t have a disorder or a condition or whatever you want to call it. I’m perfectly sane and I came here to see if—”
“Where did you go again? You forgot to tell me.”
She shook her head. Was he trying to confuse her? “I didn’t go anywhere. I came here from our apartment in Mariners Harbor. I rode here on the bus and—”
All right,” he said. “Let’s say you’re telling the truth. How did you pay the bus fare?”
“With money, like everyone else.”
“Where did you get the money?”
“I stole it from my stepfather.”
“I see. And do you have any money now?”
She shook her head, her face growing hot. “No, I gave the change from the bus token to some homeless guy because I thought I’d be coming right back and—”
“According to Dr. Whitehall and the attendant who brought you in, you didn’t have a purse or wallet with you. So where did you keep your money?”
“In my purse,” she said, starting to shake. “But it was stolen when I was on the bus.” If only she’d put her purse in her lap or kept the strap around one arm, they wouldn’t even be having this conversation. Then she remembered something. “Wait. I still have the return bus token.” She reached for her pocket, then realized she was no longer wearing her coat. The attendant had yanked it off before putting her on the gurney. She glanced around the room. Her coat was draped over a chair in the corner. She pointed at it. “The other token is in my pocket.”
Hazel picked up the coat and held it out to her. “We didn’t find anything in it, honey.”
Sage grabbed it and searched the pockets, an icy sense of dread swelling inside her chest. The token was gone. “It must have fallen out somewhere.” Desperate, she scanned the floor, peering into the far corners of the room and the shadowy spaces under the chair and cabinets. The token was nowhere to be seen. Then she remembered grabbing the change from her pocket. She must have dropped the token in the homeless vet’s soup can along with the coins. Her eyes flooded. “Please, I’m telling the truth, I promise. Call the bus station. The driver took down my name and number after my purse was stolen. He can tell you I was on the bus.”
Dr. Baldwin looked doubtful. “Okay, let’s say you came back here on a bus somehow. And your purse was stolen. Did anyone witness your purse being stolen?”
“I don’t know. I had my eyes closed.”
“Did you tell the driver your name was Sage Winters?”
“Of course I did,” she said.
Dr. Baldwin said nothing, instead watching her with knowing eyes, waiting for her to realize what she’d just said—that she’d told the driver the same thing she was telling him now.
“It is my name,” she said, her bottom lip trembling. “Sage Joy Winters. And yes, Rosemary and I have the same middle name.”
“How interesting,” Dr. Baldwin said. “I’ve never heard of sisters with the same middle name before.”
A frantic mixture of anger and terror quaked through her body, making her tremble all over. “What about the telephone number I gave the driver?” she said. “How would I know my stepfather’s number if I’ve been in Willowbrook for six years?”
“Many people can easily recall their childhood phone numbers. Or it’s possible you memorized it when we let you call your mother every year on your birthday and Christmas Eve. One of the nurses always helped you dial the phone, remember?”
Sage recoiled as if slapped, a fresh wound piercing her heart. Before she died, her mother used to take phone calls in the other room on Sage’s birthday and Christmas Eve. Her mother always said it was her aunt, who only called to ask for money, and Sage wasn’t allowed to say hello because her mother didn’t want to ruin the festive mood. Now Sage knew why. It hadn’t been her aunt calling. It was Rosemary.
“Will you please let me call my stepfather?” she said.
“I don’t think that would be wise,” Dr. Baldwin said. “Perhaps sometime in the future, but right now I feel it would only add to your delusion.”
“I’m not having a delusion,” she said, trying to control her emotions. “And if you’re so sure I am Rosemary, why won’t you let me call him? How could it hurt?”
“There’s no need for you to call him. I already let him know you’ve returned safe and sound.”