“I’m trying to hear them, Bessie,” Sadie said softly. “Tell me where they are.”
But Bessie began to wail. “He took us in the dark. I don’t like it, I hate the dark.”
Sadie sighed. Dr. Tynsdale claimed Bessie was the innocent little child her sister had once been before her mind was fractured. Amelia resorted to Bessie when life became too traumatic for her to deal with the ugly reality. When bad things—violence—happened.
And her grandfather’s murder was as bad as it could get.
Jake watched the scene between Sadie and her sister with a mixture of pity and frustration. If Amelia were any other criminal, he could throw the book at her and not lose a wink of sleep. And if she would snap out of it, confess, and explain why she’d killed her grandfather, it would make his job a helluva lot easier. Then everyone could understand and move on.
But she was a mentally ill woman, one who saw the world through a distorted lens. No telling what thoughts had been in her head when she’d pulled that trigger.
He’d hoped seeing Sadie might shake Amelia back to reality, but judging from the disturbing sound of the little girl’s voice, this was one of the “others” Sadie had talked about years ago. He’d never met any of them, but Sadie had assured him they were real.
As real as an insane person could make them.
Sadie’s face twisted with anguish for a brief moment. Then, with an effort, she set her face, her expression unreadable.
But when she spoke, her voice was soft and soothing, as if she were speaking to a child.
“Bessie,” Sadie said, “do you know what happened with Amelia?”
Bessie frowned, the innocence of a child who was lost behind those steel bars. “She’s sad.”
“Yes,” Sadie said matter-of-factly. “Because of Papaw.”
Bessie wrinkled her nose. “This place smells. I want to go home.”
Jake jammed his hands in his pockets, looking for signs that Amelia was faking the child persona, but if she was, she was a damn good actress.
“Do you know what happened to Papaw?” Sadie asked.
Bessie swiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks with the back of one hand. “No...Amelia said he’s gone.”
“Do you remember me?” Sadie asked. “We used to play together when I was a little girl.”
Bessie’s face brightened. “We had coloring parties.”
“That’s right.” Sadie laid a hand on her sister’s arm. She was trying to be patient, act unaffected, but the slight tremble of her fingers as she stroked Bessie’s hand betrayed her suffering.
Jake retrieved his cell phone from the clip on his belt and stepped aside to phone the doctor. If Bessie was talking, maybe Tynsdale knew how to reach the alters.
He’d also heard Sadie was some kind of therapist. Maybe she could get Bessie to open up.
Still, he didn’t stray so far that he couldn’t watch his prisoner. Amelia had shot her grandfather. Who knew what she might do next?
She might attack Sadie. Or she might confess the crime and her reason for resorting to murder.
Sadie wished like hell that Jake wasn’t watching. But he was the sheriff, and he’d be peering over her shoulder at every turn. Demanding to talk to her sister. Grilling her to confide whatever Amelia or the alters revealed.
She had to stay on guard every minute she was here.
Her cell phone vibrated in her purse, and she checked the caller ID. Her coworker at the clinic in San Francisco. Probably wanted to know if she was all right.
She’d have to lie to him, too.
“Can we have another coloring party?” Bessie asked.
Her heart broke for the child in front of her. For her sister, who had no idea what she’d done. For what would happen to Amelia’s fragile psyche when she realized she’d taken her own granddaddy’s life.
“Yes, honey,” Sadie said. “I’ll find us some paper and crayons.” Maybe Bessie had seen something.
Maybe she would draw a picture and give them some clues as to what had happened between her and Papaw, and who’d fired that gun.
And who had called her with the warning that Amelia was about to commit murder.
Chapter 5
Jake scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Sadie had always taken care of her twin. She’d admitted that she never knew who she might find in her house—a child, a scary teenager, or God knows who else.
Back in high school, she’d worried that her sister might get hurt while she was in one of her alter states. She’d never said Amelia was dangerous, though.
But if one of Amelia’s alters had killed her grandfather, would that alter hurt Sadie if she pushed her too hard?
The thought sent a bolt of irrational fear through him that had nothing to do with the case.