“Imogen, dear? Are you all right?”
My eyes flashed up to Sally and Agatha. They were both standing, now, and staring at me with matching looks of concern. I didn’t know what to say, so I just shook my head.
I wasn’t all right.
None of us were.
“Don’t lose hope, sugar.” Sally reached across the counter to cup my cheek. “The search party hasn’t given up on Rory. Neither should we.”
I managed a nod.
“It’s too bad Annie Thurman can’t talk,” Agatha murmured, shaking her head. “If anyone knows the secrets of those woods, it’s her.”
They left shortly after, sweeping back out the door with the same dramatic flair I’d come to expect from them when making an entrance or exit. It wasn’t until later that night, when the shop was closed for business and Gwen and I were intermittently downing bites of cheesecake while cleaning up the messy mystical curiosities section, that Agatha’s words fully processed. And, when they did, I stopped in my tracks, a chunk of rose quartz in my hand.
It’s too bad Annie Thurman can’t talk. If anyone knows the secrets of those woods, it’s her…
She couldn’t talk.
Not with words.
Not out loud.
But...
“Imogen?”
My wide eyes swung to Gwen when she said my name. My voice came out stiff. “Annie Thurman.”
Gwen blinked in surprise. “What about her?”
“I need to see her.”
She stared at me like I had a few screws loose. “Pardon?”
“I don’t have time to explain,” I said, shaking my head. “Can you give me a ride to Oak Grove in Danvers?”
“Sure, of course. I’ll drive you anywhere you want. But… isn’t Oak Grove…”
I nodded. “A psychiatric hospital.”
“And we’re going there…why?”
“Because that’s where Annie Thurman lives. And I’m going to talk to her.”
Now, Gwen was not only looking at me like I had a few screws loose; she was looking at me like I’d come unscrewed completely. But she merely straightened her shoulders, planted her hands on her hips, and nodded.
“Let’s hit the road, then. We can be there in twenty minutes. Thirty, tops.” She paused. “But we need to swing by Flo’s duplex on the way. If we leave her out of this she’ll drive us so crazy, we’ll be the ones institutionalized.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Immaculate conception is one thing. But THREE wise men in the same room? That seems improbable.
- Imogen Warner, having a religious experience
I wasn’t certain what to expect of the Oak Grove Psychiatric Center. Something out of a horror film, perhaps, with graying cinderblock walls and a gloomy atmosphere akin to a penitentiary. Instead, we were met with a well-kept brick building situated on a surprisingly lovely campus, with lush green lawns, towering willow trees, and a gently flowing creek.
Graceful wrought-iron fencing wrapped the entire property. We rolled through the automated gate without issue and parked in a lot directly in front of a wooden sign that saidRECEPTIONin gold lettering, illuminated by two spotlights.