Incarnate Page 23

  He stopped her by putting his hand on her arm, compelling her to look at him. “You’ve got to let this go. You’re in way over your head here. I’ve found evidence that Scarlett has been lying all along. You’re just too close to see it.”

  Kim tried to absorb what Zack was telling her, but it was all wrong. She didn’t care how much “evidence” accumulated that seemed to implicate her, Scarlett wasn’t a killer. She was just desperate for some relief from the pressure of harboring so many alters. Kim knew firsthand how overwhelming it could be when one’s identity slowly splintered, how terrifying the loss of control. And Scarlett had the added burden that no one believed her. At least in Kim’s case, she’d had the support of her counselors, her case manager, and her foster parents. She’d never had to fight just to be believed.

  Scarlett had no one in her corner. Even her father didn’t know what to believe.

  And that meant that Kim couldn’t give up on her. Especially now.

  “Let it go,” she echoed, knowing that she couldn’t do it.

  Zack nodded firmly and gave her arm a little pat. “That’s right. It’s time to let us do our jobs. You need to step back, get a little rest. Focus on yourself for a while, Kim.” His expression softened as he took in her wild expression. “You need some help. And I’m only saying that because I care about you.”

  Kim looked at the window of the interrogation room, knowing what lay on the other side: officers pretending not to watch them, the bulletin board with the missing-persons posters, the file cabinets filled with case notes for all the terrible things that had happened in this town.

  How had she ever believed that she could escape her past, even in a place as remote as Jarvis, Alaska? How did she ever think she could make a difference?

  It all came down to Scarlett. Kim couldn’t save Henry or Isabel or any of the other murdered souls, but she could, just maybe, help one girl who had no one else to turn to. Because she knew what it was like to carry trauma around inside her. So she wouldn’t give up. Even if that meant walking out of here and losing Zack forever. Even if it meant losing her job and her future. Hell, she’d basically lost it all already. What difference would it make?

  “I’m sure you’re right,” she said tonelessly, and turned away from him.

  “Kim . . .”

  She kept walking, through the onslaught of glances from his colleagues, out the door and through the parking lot. She got back into her car and turned the key in the ignition. The ancient Civic rumbled to life, and she backed out of the parking space, only to see Zack standing in the doors of the station, watching her.

  She held it together for almost five minutes, long enough to take the road out of town as far as the turnoff for an abandoned fisherman’s shack she’d stumbled upon while hiking one day. Nothing remained but the stone foundation, with an incredible view of the steely blue sea below. Kim parked and got out of the car, grateful no one else had chosen today to visit her favorite hideaway.

  She took a seat on the crumbling hearth that was all that remained of the original chimney, and let the salty air blow her hair gently around her shoulders. She closed her eyes and focused on the rest of her senses, trying desperately to stay in the moment. The cries of the sea birds, the sounds of traffic up on the road, the scent of wildflowers and the ocean and sun-warmed earth . . . all of these had the potential to heal.

  But today they weren’t enough. Zack had learned her most distressing truth. She believed him when he said that he wouldn’t tell anyone else, but it was too late to protect her psyche from the memories he had stirred up. This was why she didn’t tell anyone the truth. It wasn’t to protect them, it was to protect herself—she couldn’t handle it—the chance that she might remember.

  Memories of that day confused her senses, overwhelming her. The smell of the dirty carpet and the rubber mats as she pressed herself into the floor of the station wagon. The sound of her mother’s screams, of her father gasping for breath after being struck in the throat. The odor of her own urine when she wet herself. The feel of the car bumping and jostling underneath her painfully as the attackers sped away.

  Kim’s psyche had worked so hard to distance itself from that day. She’d turned herself into someone new . . . someone strong, someone capable, someone who helped others. But now she felt no different from the helpless, hurting little girl she’d been that day.

  Zack had tried to do the honorable thing. He had no way of understanding the damage he inflicted by following that thread back to its origin.

  No one understood. No one but Kim . . . and maybe Scarlett.

  THIRTY

  Kim spent the next couple of days in a haze of anxiety, trying to stave off the despair that memories of the past could trigger. She knew she should reach out; she could seek out a psychiatrist who wasn’t affiliated with the hospital, or at the very least make a call to her parents, or her old therapist from college, or even high school. Instead, she went on long, punishing runs, and spent her evenings on the couch, losing herself in hours of mindless television. When she slept, she woke up feeling more tired than the night before, as if all she did in her dreams was keep running, hurtling toward a solution that didn’t exist.

  She thought about texting Scarlett, but given her own fragility, as well as a reluctance to do anything to jeopardize Scarlett being cleared of suspicion, she held off. Several times a day, she found herself coasting by the Hascalls’ house, hoping to catch a glimpse of Scarlett and assure herself everything was okay. Most times, it seemed like no one was home, but once she caught sight of what she was fairly sure was Scarlett in an upstairs window.

  Two days later, a text came through early in the morning, while she was drinking her fourth cup of coffee. She was surprised to see that it was from Kyle.

  Please come see me at my office at your earliest convenience.

  She did her best to ignore the trepidation that seized her, and responded that she’d come immediately. After dressing in a conservative skirt and blouse, and doing her best to obscure the dark smudges under her eyes, she drove to the hospital, where she found Kyle sitting at his desk in his office, staring at his computer screen. When he saw her, his expression cycled through a host of emotions.

  “I’ll make this quick, Kim. Dr. Graver spoke to me late yesterday and let me know that the board is leaning toward terminating you. They’ll be meeting next Monday, and it’s almost certain that the decision will be unanimous. I’m sorry.”

  Kim watched his lips moving and tried to make sense of what he was saying. She’d suspected that whatever he wanted to discuss with her wouldn’t be good, but she hadn’t been ready to believe she was being fired. Instead, she’d spent the last few days trying to talk herself into making a fresh start. She’d even dared to hope that returning to work might help her work past the shock of Zack finding out the truth about her past.

  And now, despite her most ardent hopes, it was all being ripped away from her.

  She forced a brave smile. “And here I thought you called me in because you wanted to have a go at a little breakup sex.”

  Kyle knew what she was doing. She was trying not to cry. “Look, I shouldn’t have said anything. I could get in a lot of trouble over this. But I . . . felt like I owed you at least a little notice.” Kyle sighed deeply, and she could see the purple circles under his eyes. He’d been losing sleep, too. “I tried to fight for you. I know you may not believe me . . . but despite how things ended between us . . . I did try.”

  “I do believe you,” Kim managed to get out, her voice dry and brittle. “And I know I’ve hardly made things easy on you.”

  “Hardly.”

  “Will I get a chance to plead my case. To the board?”

  “Dr. Graver—oh, hell, you know what she’s like. She gets her mind made up about something and—and then no one wants to end up on her bad side, so they just all go along with her.”

  “But I thought . . . I mean, we were making progress. With Scarlett. The Henry Beaumont ca
se—it proved that she really is harboring alters. I know it’s not an official diagnosis—not yet, anyway, but—”

  “That’s the thing,” Kyle cut in. Kim froze, already anticipating his next words. “The police contacted me this morning. About Scarlett.”

  Kim was silent, trying to process this new information. She tried to keep her voice optimistic. It didn’t work. “What did they want?”

  “They wouldn’t give me any specifics, but your friend, Detective Trainor, strongly hinted that they have new evidence implicating her. He was requesting her records. Of course, I turned him down, Kim, but he’s just going to come back with a warrant. It sounds serious.”

  Kim ignored Kyle’s frosty tone when he mentioned Zack’s name. “What was the evidence?”

  Kyle regarded her over his glasses, clearly conflicted. “Listen . . . the only reason he told me anything was to try to convince me to release the records, because he was frustrated about the delay getting a warrant would cause. And I shouldn’t be telling you, either, except I feel like it’s the only way to get you to finally drop this whole thing with Scarlett.”

  “Just tell me—please.”

  “Scarlett’s DNA matches a hair strand they found on Isabel’s phone, which they found with the body. They believe it might have ripped off in a struggle. They’re likely going to arrest Scarlett later today.”

  “But—” Kim’s mind reeled. How was that possible? That would mean that Scarlett would have had to have been with Isabel shortly before her death. “It had to have been planted there.”

  Kyle rolled his eyes. “Please,” he said thinly. “Tell me you don’t seriously still believe in her innocence, after everything. Not after what I just told you.”

  “I just want to—”

  “You’re incapable of being wrong! Even when the evidence clearly points to the contrary. And this is exactly why you’re in the situation you’re in, Kim. You hold to these preposterous beliefs, like your insistence on the DID diagnosis, and then when another answer seems more likely, you just dig in deeper and come up with this nonsense about harboring dead souls.”

  “But I don’t—”

  “None of which is the least bit appropriate for a clinician, obviously.”

  “Kyle, don’t do this. Just listen to me, please.”

  He held up a hand to stop her. “No . . . if I were you, I’d go home right now and start looking for a new job. Leave Jarvis behind, and find a new place to make a fresh start. That’s the smart move here.”

  Kim simply nodded. They both knew there would be no new job, at least not in her profession. And this new evidence against Scarlett . . . it was impossible to comprehend. She needed time to digest it. She had to talk to Scarlett. She turned and left the room, not bothering to say good-bye to Kyle.

  As she walked to her car, she felt strangely numb. She barely registered the faces of her coworkers, their embarrassment and discomfort as they greeted her. They likely all knew her fate already, thanks to the hospital grapevine.

  She knew she should feel something: mortification, shame, even anger. But the only thoughts in her head were of Scarlett . . . and of her own past. The memories of what had happened to her so many years ago now seemed to be propelling her to finish what the unknown killer had put into motion . . . to protect Scarlett and get justice for Izzi. Identifying Henry’s killer, with Scarlett’s help, now felt like a mission that she had been chosen specifically to carry out; wasn’t it possible that she was meant to do more? Had the past somehow prepared her, shaped her into the person who could protect the innocent victims of a phenomenon she was uniquely qualified to understand?

  As she pulled out of the parking lot, she knew what she had to do. She turned the car in the direction of the Hascalls’ house.

  * * *

  KIM ARRIVED IN LESS than ten minutes and parked across the street, under the branches of a tall red cedar, wondering how she might convince Scarlett to do what needed to be done.

  While she was trying to formulate a plan, Heather and Peter Hascall came out of the house. Heather was swinging her backpack and laughing at something her dad said. Peter opened the car door for his daughter before going around to the driver’s side. Heather looked far more relaxed than she had the first time Kim laid eyes on her. She wondered if it was because Scarlett had become calmer with one less alter to manage.

  It was a critical time for Scarlett. If she was arrested on the basis of the DNA evidence, Kim had a feeling her condition would worsen, leaving her psyche ever more open to the most damaging of her alters. They’d made so much progress already in their sessions together; Kim couldn’t let that be undone. There was no telling what an alter like Julian might do to a weakened host. No, there was only one way to help Scarlett, and any of her alters, now—Kim had to somehow solve the case herself, to keep Scarlett from being prosecuted.

  Once Peter Hascall had driven away, Kim got out of the car. She approached the house and rang the doorbell. Scarlett answered, still in flannel pajama pants and an old sweatshirt, with her hair in a ponytail and big fuzzy slippers on her feet.

  “Hi.” Kim tried to smile. “Something has happened, Scarlett, and I just thought it would be better if I told you in person.”

  “Told me what?”

  “It’s not good news, Scarlett. The police have matched your DNA to Isabel’s crime scene somehow. We need to leave, now, before they have a chance to arrest you and charge you with murder. We need to go somewhere where no one can find you.”

  “What, you mean—run away?” Scarlett’s face, freshly scrubbed and without makeup, looked even younger than her nineteen years.

  “Don’t think of it as running away,” Kim said, feeling a brilliant clarity for the first time in days. She was doing the right thing, beyond a doubt. “We need to convince people that you’re telling the truth, and that’s going to be a lot harder once you’re in custody, without access to a psychiatrist who understands your condition. We both have a lot riding on the outcome of the Isabel Wilcox case. For me, it’s just a job, but for you . . . well, I want the rest of the world to know that you’re not a criminal—that you’re a smart, capable person with a . . . highly unusual but manageable psychiatric condition.”

  Scarlett grimaced. “I’m not sure I like the way that sounds,” she said.

  “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t, either. If I could wave a magic wand and banish your alters, I would,” Kim said. “But if I’ve learned one thing since deciding to study psychiatry, it’s that there is no such thing as ‘normal.’ Everyone is different and unique, and it’s our challenges that shape us as much as anything.”

  “You sound a lot like my last shrink,” Scarlett said with a strained smile. “She used to say that being ordinary has its challenges, too.”

  Kim laughed, despite herself. “It doesn’t really have much of a ring to it, as far as slogans go—but I think I could get behind it.”

  Scarlett looked past her, out into the neighborhood, the tidy tree-lined streets. “Still . . . things were just starting to return to normal again around here. Heather and me, we’re getting along, and Dad seems happier than he’s been in ages. I haven’t switched in days. I haven’t lost time. I just wish—”

  Her voice cracked, and along with it, Kim’s heart. “I know,” she murmured. “I know.” Kim took a step toward her. “I’m just worried that it’s the calm before the storm.”

  Scarlett sighed. “I had a feeling this was too good to last. So what’s your big plan? Are we heading for Mexico?” She tried to laugh, but it came out as a strangled sob.

  “Listen . . . Do you trust me, Scarlett?” Kim looked at her steadily, trying to reassure the girl with her gaze.

  “Yes.”

  “I mean . . . I’m asking a lot of you here. There are plenty of people who would tell you that I’m . . . unstable myself. That I can’t provide you the guidance you deserve.”

  “I don’t care about them,” Scarlett said simply. “You’ve never lied to me, ha
ve you?”

  “Never.”

  “And you’ve always believed me, right?”

  “Yes.”

  Scarlett shrugged, getting control of her emotions. “That’s good enough for me. Can I just leave my dad a note and grab a few things?”

  “Sure,” Kim said. “Just make it quick, okay?” Every moment they delayed the plan, Kim could feel her anxiousness returning. It was much better to stay in motion—to keep things charging ahead— now that Kim had finally figured out the correct path.

  She waited downstairs, pacing back and forth across the kitchen floor, while Scarlett went to get her backpack and a change of clothes. It was only a few minutes until Scarlett was ready, but to Kim, who’d spent the time peering out the window, anticipating the lights of a squad car at any moment, it felt like hours. Kim tried not to rush Scarlett as she watched her set a piece of paper on the counter and tenderly position her dad’s favorite coffee mug, which read “You Can’t Scare Me, I Have Daughters,” on top to anchor it. Kim quickly scanned the short note, making sure it didn’t hold anything that could be used against the girl later:

  Dear Dad and Sis,

  I love you guys more than anything in this whole world. I promise I’ll do my best to stay safe and get home as soon as I can.

  Her signature was surrounded by tiny hearts, and Kim was struck again by how Scarlett was truly in the balance between childhood and adulthood; that the things that happened to her now could well set the tone for the rest of her life.

  “I won’t let you down,” Kim promised softly, as she led the way to her old car. She’d defend Scarlett with her very life, if it came to that.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Kim had driven past the old motel earlier in the summer when she’d gone for a drive, hoping to get to know the area around Jarvis. This was before she’d fully absorbed how cut off the town was from civilization. There was only one road that ran to the larger Alaskan cities and, eventually, beyond the state’s border. Other than that, there were a handful of dirt roads that led to hunting camps and ghost towns to the north and east.