made contact with his former business associates.
She’d done everything she could think of including personally checking out all the John Does at the hospital and Caroline Newberry’s visitor records. There was no record of him visiting Caroline in the institution. He had to be long gone by now.
Trent had mentioned in his interview that he was convinced Simon loved Caroline and she believed him, but if Simon did care about Caroline so much, then why hadn’t he visited her? Security at the hospital was very good, all visitors were ID’d and logged in. He couldn’t get in without someone noticing. She’d left a picture of Simon at the institution but didn't expect to hear from them.
The whole damn thing made her nervous. She didn't like loose ends.
Caroline Newberry sat up in her bed at the mental hospital and rubbed her eyes. God, she hated the groggy feeling from the drugs they were feeding her. Her head was in a constant fog. She pushed the covers down, leaned back against the wall, and drew her knees up to her chest. She stared out the tiny reinforced window high on the wall. A thin beam of moonlight drifted in, making a yellow line that divided the floor of her tiny room in half.
She wanted to go outside and walk barefoot in the grass. Wanted to breathe fresh air. But she knew they wouldn't let her. It didn't matter that she'd been a better doctor than all of them put together. The door to the hallway was locked precisely at 10 pm every evening. They couldn't see that she didn't belong in this place. She was trapped.
Trapped.
Alone.
Like Trent had been.
She'd failed in her mission and now he was free and she was the prisoner. She banged her head back against the wall. Not how her life was supposed to turn out.
An image of her and her husband driving home from the hospital with Ed as a newborn filled her mind. No. She banged her head back again. Saw Trent and Ed playing outside in the backyard together. Happy. No. No, no, no! Her head slammed back again, the pain focusing her mind.
Yes! That was it. Focus. Her head snapped back. Again. The pain vibrated through her skull. Think. Harder. Faster.
By the time the doctor and orderly on duty were alerted by the patient in the next room's shouts and unlocked the door, blood was pouring from her split scalp, soaking the back of her white nightgown. Still, she fought them, kicking, screaming, biting, trying to get free.
Trent stood in the basement of the abandoned warehouse. He felt the water pouring down over him from above, could see it pooling on the floor at his feet, and for a moment he was unable to move. He stared at the wall of flames in front of him. Useless. He couldn't save anybody. Couldn't even save himself. The flames called to him to come closer, to end his agony. They danced and beckoned him forward into the heat.
“Barlow.” The voice seemed to come from somewhere far away.
“Barlow!”
Trent shook his head.
“We need to pull back, now.”
Trent blinked, staring into the waves of red and gold. Heard the crackling as the fire devoured everything in its path. He felt something pulling on the back of his coat, tried to shake it off.
“I said now, for fuck’s sake.”
Trent found himself spun around and looking into Ted’s dirt and soot streaked face. He turned his head and took one last glance at the fire then ran towards the door, up the stairs, and into daylight. Ted’s footsteps pounded behind him.
“What happened in there?” Ted asked as soon as they were clear and he'd regained his breath.
“Nothing. I just froze for a second.”
“Trent, you were walking towards a damned wall of flames.”
Trent blinked. “That's not what happened.” He had to say the words even if they both knew they were untrue.
“Is there something going on here?” Ted asked, spreading his arms out.
Trent clenched his jaw. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
“I'm going to take your word on that because you've saved my ass in a fire
She’d done everything she could think of including personally checking out all the John Does at the hospital and Caroline Newberry’s visitor records. There was no record of him visiting Caroline in the institution. He had to be long gone by now.
Trent had mentioned in his interview that he was convinced Simon loved Caroline and she believed him, but if Simon did care about Caroline so much, then why hadn’t he visited her? Security at the hospital was very good, all visitors were ID’d and logged in. He couldn’t get in without someone noticing. She’d left a picture of Simon at the institution but didn't expect to hear from them.
The whole damn thing made her nervous. She didn't like loose ends.
Caroline Newberry sat up in her bed at the mental hospital and rubbed her eyes. God, she hated the groggy feeling from the drugs they were feeding her. Her head was in a constant fog. She pushed the covers down, leaned back against the wall, and drew her knees up to her chest. She stared out the tiny reinforced window high on the wall. A thin beam of moonlight drifted in, making a yellow line that divided the floor of her tiny room in half.
She wanted to go outside and walk barefoot in the grass. Wanted to breathe fresh air. But she knew they wouldn't let her. It didn't matter that she'd been a better doctor than all of them put together. The door to the hallway was locked precisely at 10 pm every evening. They couldn't see that she didn't belong in this place. She was trapped.
Trapped.
Alone.
Like Trent had been.
She'd failed in her mission and now he was free and she was the prisoner. She banged her head back against the wall. Not how her life was supposed to turn out.
An image of her and her husband driving home from the hospital with Ed as a newborn filled her mind. No. She banged her head back again. Saw Trent and Ed playing outside in the backyard together. Happy. No. No, no, no! Her head slammed back again, the pain focusing her mind.
Yes! That was it. Focus. Her head snapped back. Again. The pain vibrated through her skull. Think. Harder. Faster.
By the time the doctor and orderly on duty were alerted by the patient in the next room's shouts and unlocked the door, blood was pouring from her split scalp, soaking the back of her white nightgown. Still, she fought them, kicking, screaming, biting, trying to get free.
Trent stood in the basement of the abandoned warehouse. He felt the water pouring down over him from above, could see it pooling on the floor at his feet, and for a moment he was unable to move. He stared at the wall of flames in front of him. Useless. He couldn't save anybody. Couldn't even save himself. The flames called to him to come closer, to end his agony. They danced and beckoned him forward into the heat.
“Barlow.” The voice seemed to come from somewhere far away.
“Barlow!”
Trent shook his head.
“We need to pull back, now.”
Trent blinked, staring into the waves of red and gold. Heard the crackling as the fire devoured everything in its path. He felt something pulling on the back of his coat, tried to shake it off.
“I said now, for fuck’s sake.”
Trent found himself spun around and looking into Ted’s dirt and soot streaked face. He turned his head and took one last glance at the fire then ran towards the door, up the stairs, and into daylight. Ted’s footsteps pounded behind him.
“What happened in there?” Ted asked as soon as they were clear and he'd regained his breath.
“Nothing. I just froze for a second.”
“Trent, you were walking towards a damned wall of flames.”
Trent blinked. “That's not what happened.” He had to say the words even if they both knew they were untrue.
“Is there something going on here?” Ted asked, spreading his arms out.
Trent clenched his jaw. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
“I'm going to take your word on that because you've saved my ass in a fire
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