Edge of Midnight (McClouds & Friends #4)(128)

“Taking me?” Alarm bells jangled in her head. She backed away. “No way. You’re not taking me anywhere.”

“I know you’ve had a terrible ordeal, Livvy, but it’s over now. And we’re going to see that you get the help you need,” her mother said. She grabbed Liv’s wrist, her long red nails digging in with nervous strength.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying!” Liv wailed. “I was attacked four days ago! A man tried to kill me! Sean saved me!”

“You see?” Her mother fixed Dr. Horst with big, imploring eyes. “It’s something like Stockholm Syndrome. She’s so broken down, she’s actually bonded and identified with her abuser. God, Livvy, just look at you. Bruises on your arms, your face. You’ve been beaten!”

“Mother, I told you—hey! What are you doing?”

“You’re right.” Dr. Horst had grabbed her arm, and was frowning at it. “Rope burns, knife cuts, hematomas. It will be necessary to document all signs of sexual violence for when you press charges.”

“Oh, dear God.” Her mother let out a theatrical sob of anguish.

“Press charges? Against who?” Liv stared wildly around herself.

“Oh, please, honey,” her mother said. “Don’t tell me you really believe these silly stories about an attacker. It’s just a fantasy, to justify your unhealthy obsession with that horrible man.”

Her jaw dropped. “You mean, you still think the bad guy is Sean? But I’m telling you right now that it wasn’t! Mother, listen to me—”

“What is this?” Her mother lifted the blond curls off her neck, and gasped. “Oh! God! Livvy? What has that person done to you?”

“A human bite.” Horst’s mouth tightened with distaste. “You did the right thing, Mrs. Endicott. We probably got her back just in time.”

“No. Wait. That wasn’t Sean. He didn’t do that. You’re all crazy.” Liv backed towards the door. “To hell with this bullshit. I’m leaving.”

She bumped into Blair, who had sidled around behind her. He looped his beefy arms around her waist, pinning her arms.

“Livvy,” Amelia said. “The police searched McCloud’s apartment, and guess what they found? Look at this. Just look, honey.”

“Let go of me!” she shrieked, struggling, but Blair’s arms were strong. Her mother came over with a folder, and opened it up.

“Look,” she said triumphantly. “Hundreds of photos of you, Livvy. They span years! This man has been stalking you for over a decade!”

Liv stared at the folder. Her mother leafed through the photos, displaying them in quick succession. Liv in college. In New York. Outside the library where she’d worked in Baltimore. Outside the apartment where she’d lived in Madison. She stared at them, stunned.

“See?” her mother said. “He’s obsessed, Livvy. Face the facts.”

Not. The pictures were startling, but she was almost immune to shock by now. Sean’s passionate interest in her was intense and unusual, but not criminally violent. Not crazy. Not T-Rex. She knew the difference.

She shook her head. “The man who attacked me was not Sean, Mother. You have to believe me. I’m not crazy. And neither is he.”

Her mother looked sadly up at Dr. Horst. Shook her head.

Blair’s arms tightened. “Sorry, Liv. Remember, I am your friend.”

She struggled, panicked. “Like hell you are. You guys can’t do this to me! It’s not legal!”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong about that.” Amelia’s voice had a taunting tone. “We can prove you’ve been kidnapped and brainwashed. That you’ve been physically and sexually abused. You are a danger to yourself and to those around you. The paperwork is drawn up. It’s incredibly painful for us, but we have to do what’s best for you, honey. All that remains is to get that person behind bars, where he belongs.”

“You idiots!” she shrieked. “Sean didn’t kidnap me! He saved me! Let go!” She flailed, stomped, tried to knee Blair in the groin.

She felt a sting in her arm. Horst was pushing down the plunger of a hypodermic. The effect was instantaneous, cutting her loose from her frantic desperation. She floated, detached. She couldn’t remember why it was so important to keep her knees locked, so she let them sag.

Blair hoisted her up against his chest, with considerable effort.

“Put her into this wheelchair,” Dr. Horst directed. “We’ll let her rest in the examining room while I go over some details on this paperwork with you. I want to get her settled into Belvedere by evening.”

Belvedere? The mental health clinic for depressed, drug-addicted socialites? The rich bitch looney bin? Part of her wanted to shriek with laughter, but it wasn’t a part of her that had any motor control.

Blair tucked her into the wheelchair, straightening her lolling head. She stared into his eyes, in silent pleading. He lifted her fake blond hair, looked at T-Rex’s bite. He shook his head, and left.

Under the influence, she watched the wall grow wider, until it was as big as the sky.

She floated in the blue, longing for someone whose name she couldn’t remember. She remembered his face, though. How he shone.

The door to the main corridor opened, letting in a slice of light and noise from outside. A large cart with big canvas linen bags creaked in. She saw its bulk approaching. She could barely keep her eyes open, or her mouth shut. Let alone turn her head to look at it.