Danny moved between the two men and held his hands up in mock surrender. “Our apologies, Doctor. We understand. I’m sure all the captain meant is that it would’ve been tough for anybody to go through that.”
Abrams nodded curtly before turning and resuming his way at a quick pace, leaving the two officers rushing to keep up. “Most days, the patient is nearly catatonic. She bathes and dresses, she eats, she sleeps. The rest of the time, she seems to be just staring off into space. She’ll answer our questions, depending on the day, but won’t really engage in conversation beyond a few words. She avoids any gatherings of the patients, even though interaction with the other residents here at Agnews is something we actively encourage for anyone staying with us.”
Danny thought about this a moment. “I bet it doesn’t go well when she attends, does it.”
Abrams shot him a look before answering. “This is a mental hospital, Commander, and yes, there are risks of incidents when even the most docile patients are placed together. For example, the man you saw just now has progressed significantly since he first arrived. But just like us, our patients have bad days now and then. Their bad days are simply far more pronounced.”
“Have you seen progress in Miss Dubinsky?” Danny asked.
“Progress is measured differently with each patient, Commander,” Abrams began. “It’s simply unreasonable to expect just because one of our patients shows—”
“She’s been here twelve weeks and there hasn’t been a single indication that her condition is improving, has there, Doctor?” Danny pressed.
Abrams sighed. “We’ve tried many different therapies to bring her out of her fugue, from hydro to electric-shock to experimental drug treatments. I admit, we haven’t had much success,” Abrams said as he came to a stop before a secure wooden door in one of the smaller buildings. “These are the residences. Each patient has a small room of his or her own. Maggie isn’t a danger to herself, so it will look familiar to you. Shall we?”
Danny nodded, and Abrams rapped on the door. “Maggie! It’s Dr. Abrams. You have some guests here to see you. May we come in?”
There was no response, and Abrams produced the keys to the room. “It’s unlikely we would have received a reply. Let’s go in.”
A few jingling keys and several deadbolts later, the three men entered the sunny room. And to Danny’s surprise, Abrams was right — it looked more like a hotel room than an asylum or mental hospital or whatever they were calling it these days. There were a nicely made bed and pillow, along with matching dresser, desk, and chair. There were a small closet and a little bathroom, and the décor was California cheery, with lots of peach and mauve colors. A floral throw rug covered most of the tiled floor.
The woman inside, though, was far less welcoming.
Margaret Ann Dubinsky, in Danny’s estimation, was on the plain side of pretty, with a broad, sort of flat face and blue eyes. That was probably unfair, though, given what she’d been through. She kept her blond hair straight and parted right down the middle, with very little effort put into it. No makeup, either, and whereas she might’ve qualified for “curvy” once, she was looking kind of wan and pale. Her cheeks were a little hollow, her eyes a little unfocused and tired. Her clothes were standard-issue white pajamas, though the closet seemed to be stocked with other, more colorful and ladylike options. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, no shoes.
She didn’t acknowledge her visitors whatsoever, just continued staring off into space while the radio at her bedside played some ballad or another.
“Creepy as hell,” Anderson muttered, earning a whack on the arm from Danny and a glare from Abrams, who entered the room slowly and made his way to the girl’s bedside.
“Maggie, these gentlemen came from the naval base up in Alameda to see you,” Abrams said slowly and clearly. “Can you say hello to them?”
Maggie’s head turned slowly in their direction, acknowledging their presence for the first time. Danny’s eyes met hers, and he was shocked to find just how detached her gaze was. It was as though the girl saw right into his goddamn soul and found nothing there to remark upon.
“You can go ahead and ask questions if you like,” Abrams said after a moment of silence. “Perhaps the new stimulus will be useful to her.”
Danny and Anderson exchanged glances. Given that Danny outranked the Marine, and it was his idea to come out there in the first place, there was no question who would be providing the stimulus. Anderson extended his hand in the patient’s direction, as if to say, “She’s all yours, Commander,” and retreated to the other side of the small room with Abrams. Danny took a quick breath and pulled up a chair next to the bed.
“Hello, Miss Dubinsky,” he began, speaking quietly and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “My name’s Dan Wallace. I’m with the Navy. Your case came to our attention through, uh, various channels we… keep a watch on.”
Danny paused. Maggie simply continued staring forward, unmoving. Her breathing was so measured, she could’ve used it as a metronome. Danny had never really tried to talk to someone this unresponsive before.
“So, Miss Dubinsky,” he continued, “I’d like to talk to you about what happened up in Mill Valley. You know, with that student’s father. It seemed really… out of character. Can you perhaps tell me a bit about what happened?”
Still nothing. The woman’s face was utterly blank, her eyes lacking any spark at all. There were photographs with more life in them than this woman, Danny thought as he leaned in closer to her. Time for plan B.
“I have a theory about what happened. I’d like to tell you about it,” Danny whispered. “You see, people don’t just up and go mad like that. OK, sure, a few do. But I read that father’s file. He was a stand-up guy, real pillar of the community: banker, Methodist, Mason. They say he was a rock. Never so much as spanked the kids.”
Maggie blinked a few times. Her breathing hitched momentarily.
Danny couldn’t help but smile slightly, feeling as though he was getting somewhere, and an idea began to form in his head. “So, what makes a man angry as all that? Sure, nobody likes it when a teacher tells them they’re all wrong as parents, but I don’t think you did that. And I took a look at the paperwork you prepared for little Johnny there, about how he might’ve needed extra help because of… what’s that word? Dyslexia? Some sort of reading thing. Never heard of it, but figure you’re up on that sort of thing.”
Danny heard Abrams clear his throat a bit. “I’m not sure, Lieutenant Wallace, how this is supposed to help Maggie,” the doctor said, somehow sounding both apologetic and defensive in the same friendly-sounding breath.
“Not sure she needs help, Dr. Abrams. Do you, Maggie?” Danny replied, not taking his eyes off her as she began to shift slightly on the bed. “Your student there, Johnny, he just couldn’t read very well. You knew he wasn’t being lazy or anything — the boy couldn’t help it. But maybe the parents didn’t see it that way. Maybe they just ignored you, or maybe they thought you were trying to tell them their boy was sick, somehow, or crazy. Either way, they weren’t going to do anything. So, what happened then? What made that father go off like that?”
A single tear trailed down Maggie’s face. Her hands clenched. Her breathing grew quicker. And she screwed her eyes shut tight.
“I don’t know what happened, and you do, Maggie,” Danny said. “You can’t hide here forever. If you can tell me what happened, maybe I can help you. Maybe together we can… oh… oh, God.”