Asylum (Asylum, #1)(62)

He might have known Abby had been the one to take it. Of course she would have been making trips to the basement without him. Dan finally understood.

“Do you recognize this?” Abby asked the woman softly.

The woman’s hair had gotten ruffled in the commotion, and now, with her bangs swept aside, the scar on her forehead was plainly visible. A scar just like the little girl in the photo. Abby spun the figurine, making it dance.

From where she knelt, Lucy reached for the ballerina. Abby let her take it, smiling sadly.

“You’re Lucy, right? Lucy Valdez? My name is Abby Valdez. You had a brother . . . have a brother. My father. I know it’s a lot to take in, but I think he would love to see you. And I want you to know that your dad, he . . . Well, he never forgave himself for sending you here.”

Lucy cradled the chipped ballerina in her palms, holding it close to her chest.

Dan wondered if she’d found Sal’s body in the woods, or if her rage came purely from the fact that she suspected he was the warden.

“Officer Teague,” Dan called, and the policeman hustled over to him.

“Everything all right?”

“In the basement, before we knocked Felix out, he told me that he’d killed someone else. A man from town. He said he left the body in the woods near Camford Baptist.”

“That’s awfully specific,” Teague said suspiciously. “Are you sure about that?”

“I’m just telling you what he said.”

Dan knew he was going to have a hard time getting out of this mess. When Felix came to, he might not remember all the things he’d done. And then it might be his word against Dan’s. Dan had a feeling he knew who Officer Teague liked less.

But now Teague just nodded and radioed in for someone on his team to check out the woods.

Jordan slid up next to Dan with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “She was right,” he said. “Can you believe it?”

“I can. I should have believed her sooner.”

Abby was kneeling in the grass near her aunt, watching her from a cautious distance.

“So what about Felix?” Jordan asked with a sigh. He stretched his arms in the blanket out like a cape, covering a yawn with the crook of his elbow. “Was he . . . Do you think he’ll recover? Are they going to put him in jail?”

Dan shrugged. “It’s up to the police, I guess. I don’t think what happened was entirely his fault, but I have no idea how the law works in cases like these. I just hope he gets help, the right kind of help.” He glanced over his shoulder at Brookline looming behind them. “Not the kind of help this place had to offer.”

“And us?”

“They’ll shut the program down,” Dan said, certain, “and we’ll go home.”

“Awesome.” Jordan kicked at the dirt. “I guess I always knew gay rumspringa would end and I’d have to leave Oz. Now I have to go back home and pretend to be straight for one more year. How do you stand it?”

“It’s a terrible burden, let me tell you.” They laughed, but Dan couldn’t help but worry for Jordan. What would his parents do when they found out where Jordan had really gone for the summer? “You know . . . If you want—I mean, if your parents get too terrible—you could come stay with me. For a while, or, I don’t know. I’m sure my parents would be cool with it.”

Jordan fixed his glasses and snorted, and Dan was certain he was going to be turned down.

“Can your mom cook?”

“No, but my dad can.”

“Sold.” Jordan stuck out his hand and Dan took it.





“I suppose they’ll send someone for Felix’s stuff,” Dan was saying, shoving the last of his books into a suitcase. Sandy and Paul busied themselves with stacking the packed bags near the door. His side of the room was virtually empty now, but Felix’s things remained untouched, a half-full Gatorade sitting on his desk.

“Poor kid,” his mother said, joining Dan at the bed. He’d already stripped the mattress and balled up the sheets. He didn’t let any of it put a hitch in his packing; even if he wasn’t eager to say good-bye to his new friends, he wanted to be out of Brookline. Every second he stayed felt like a second too many.

“Knock, knock?”

All three of them turned to find Abby at the open door. She rocked shyly on her heels, waiting to come in.

“Oh, hey. I’m glad you stopped by,” Dan said. A night’s rest at the hotel in town had done them all good—Abby looked amazing in an off-the-shoulder tunic and rubbery leggings. Her combat boots were splattered with pink and yellow paint.

“We’ll take these down to the car,” his father offered, giving Dan a look that was anything but subtle.

Even so, Dan welcomed the privacy.

“Nice to meet you both,” Abby said as his parents trooped by.

“You too, sweetie.” His mom gave him a little wave of encouragement from the door, unseen by Abby.

The balled-up bedsheets joined his books. Dan had to lean hard on the suitcase to get it to close. “You all moved out?”

“Not quite. Things are packed but I’m still waiting for Pops. . . .”

Dan hauled the overstuffed suitcase from the bed to the floor. “He’s coming to pick you up? Does that mean . . .”