Chapter 5

Chapter Five

C ourage was the antidote for fear, and usually Taylor was leading the charge, but this time she sat unsure of what to do next. She was scared.

No, she was terrified.

After Alice had left with Johnny, things had only gotten more bizarre in Lucy’s cabin.

Her sister was in trouble.

Not legally, but mentally.

They’d stopped talking a half hour before, when Lucy had broken down crying and claiming that someone was after her, and that they’d even sent planes overhead to find her.

Finally, Taylor found her voice again, stepping into her familiar role as the big sister and caretaker—the one who had always used logic to keep her sisters on the right path.

“Lucy, you know that we are right in the path that Lockheed Martin uses to test their new F-16s at least a few times a year. Don’t be silly. No one is looking for you,” she’d told her. “And what is with all the mouse traps?”

“I keep hearing them scurrying around in the walls, and cupboards. ”

“This is a log cabin. They can’t get into the walls. And I haven’t heard of a mouse being in any of our homes since we upped the number of barn cats on the property. Do you have proof that you have a vermin problem?”

In return, she’d gotten wide eyed swimming with fear. Then Taylor spotted a piece of paper on the table amongst the other clutter. Lucy had drawn a map of their property, outlining the fencing, little squares for the cabins. Bigger ones for the other buildings. It was complete with lines marking the trails they’d used as kids—one that went to the dock and lake, and others that circled back around the farm.

When she asked why the map, Lucy had shut down, refusing to say another thing.

Suddenly a commercial came on the television with the mayor of Atlanta saying she would take severe action against anyone who continued to commit crimes in their city, and Lucy started shaking.

“She’s sending me a message,” she’d whispered.

“Why would she be talking to you? You haven’t lived around Atlanta in years.”

Lucy continued staring at the television.

Taylor didn’t know what to do or say. This kind of thing wasn’t in her wheelhouse. She could deal with a criminal by using force or negotiation. Had Lucy lost her mind?

“I’m going to clean this place up,” she’d said to buy herself time to think. “You can help, or you can rest.”

Lucy parked herself in the very far corner of the couch, huddling under a big blanket.

“You missed our family Christmas dinner,” Taylor said. “Everyone wondered where you were, but we thought you were tied up at the gallery. Last minute Christmas sales.”

“I’m not eating anything I don’t make myself.”

Hmm ... that was interesting. Lucy was usually first in line at any of their family meals, as she wasn’t fond of cooking for herself and Johnny.

“A friend I met in jail came to visit.”

She wanted to keep talking, to pretend like things were normal until Lucy snapped out of it. “Her name is Quig. The one who threw the chair through the door to get them to take me to the hospital. It was good to see her, to see that she’s trying to turn her life around. I think you would’ve liked her.”

No reply.

Usually Lucy would be interested in stories like that. She was always rooting for the underdogs, having been one herself for so many years when she ran the streets. But she didn’t react.

Maybe she just needed to rest.

It took a while but, when Taylor finished washing the last of the dishes and the dirty frying pans, she put everything away and wiped down the counters. She peeked into all the cabinets, under the sink, and even pulled out the warming drawer under the oven.

Not one mouse dropping to be found anywhere. No bugs, either.

She went to the living area and began picking up blankets, folding them and placing them neatly in Lucy’s recliner, topping them with the bed pillows.

“What room do these go in?” she asked Lucy.

Her sister stared straight ahead, not blinking.

“Lucy, I’m talking to you. Stop ignoring me.” She went to stand in front of her, and, awkwardly, she knelt down, looking into her eyes.

There was no movement.

“Why don’t I help you into the shower, Lucy? We can wash your hair.”

Nothing.

Taylor waved her hand in front of Lucy’s face and there was still no reaction. That’s when a coil of fear snaked up her spine, crawling all the way to her brain. Her hands began to shake as she got her phone out of her pocket and texted her mom.

Bring Ellis and come quick to Lucy's cabin. Something is wrong with her.

Ellis held the stethoscope to Lucy’s chest, listening intently. She hadn’t spoken a word to them, and Taylor could see that Cate was trying not to look frantic.

When he looked up, his eyes were sad. “Let’s step into another room.”

Taylor led them to Lucy’s bedroom. It was a disaster, but she’d never been big on making her bed, so it wasn’t that unusual. She told them about the state of the cabin when she’d arrived, and the mouse traps, but no evidence of droppings in her search.

“The mice thing could be auditory hallucinations,” Ellis said. He pushed a rumpled comforter back and sat on the bed, running his hand through his thick hair. “I’ve also seen it present in patients brought in high on methamphetamine, and a few other drugs.”

Cate gasped, and Taylor put her head into her hands.

Please, God. Not again.

That she knew of, Lucy had never done meth, but she’d done a multitude of other drugs back in the day. And she’d gone missing for months at a time, so who knows what all she’d done during that time. Or was doing now.

Taylor looked up and she couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice. “If she’s doing drugs again, we have to protect Johnny.”

“Now hold on, let’s don’t jump to any conclusions,” Ellis said. “There’s a lot going on here, but, right this minute, she might be in akinetic catatonia. She’s presenting with lack of movement and speech, but her vitals are fine.”

Taylor felt sick at her stomach, and she lowered herself to the bed beside Ellis. Was her sister insane? All thoughts of being involved in the Colburn murder case had left her mind when she’d walked through Lucy’s door earlier.

“Catatonic? What does that mean? What is it?” Cate asked.

“A neuropsychiatric condition. With it, a patient will freeze up, have trouble starting or finishing anything, and could stay in the same posture for hours.”

“That could explain why the cabin is a disaster,” Taylor said.

“How does that happen?” Cate asked.

He shrugged. “A lot of things can push someone into that state. Let me ask you, Taylor, has she ever been diagnosed with a mental illness?”

Taylor shook her head. “Not that I know of, but I’ve always suspected she might have something. When she was young, she was so rebellious. Impulsive, even to her detriment. She’s never connected action with consequences. And she’s always had super high highs, and very low lows.”

“Sounds like a mood disorder, but I don’t want to back alley diagnose her. I’m not a psychiatrist. She needs a full workup because there are some diseases that can cause this. Parkinson’s, epilepsy, and we can’t rule out a stroke, either, though my initial exam doesn’t point to that. You also have MS and lupus as a possibility. Lastly, I had a patient just like this once, and eventually she was diagnosed with encephalitis.”

“What do we need to do?” Taylor asked.

“The treatment is usually Benzodiazepines of some sort. Valium, Xanax—something like that. We’d have to get her to a hospital or a doctor to prescribe it. I can’t prescribe any longer. ”

“We can keep Johnny with us, if you two can take her to be examined,” Taylor said, looking at Ellis and Cate. “I hate it that he was here while she was going through whatever this is. I’d go but I really don’t want to leave Lennon yet.”

“Of course we’ll take her,” Cate said, going into the living room.

Taylor and Ellis followed. Lucy was still sitting in the same spot, motionless.

Cate knelt to her level, and picked her hands up in hers, warming them back and forth.

“Lucy, if you can hear me, we are going to take you to the hospital so you can get some help.”

Like a jack-in-the-box, Lucy’s eyes widened, and she popped up from the couch, wobbling on shaky legs as she took an aggressive stance.

They all recoiled, an involuntary response from the surprise.

“No! I’m not going anywhere! They’re out there!” She pointed frantically—and with jerky, exaggerated movements—to the door, and her blackened windows. “Bring Johnny back to me. Now!”

Cate instantly enveloped her into her arms, hugging her close. Lucy was stiff and unwavering, but Cate continued holding her, whispering into her ear that she was okay. When Lucy’s body finally relaxed, she slowly sat down again.

Taylor took the other side and put her arm around Lucy.

Ellis sat in the recliner, leaning forward with elbows on his knees.

“Lucy, listen to me,” he started with a soft, soothing voice. “Johnny is with Sam and Alice, and he’s safe and happy. You are having some sort of mental breakdown, and my professional opinion is that you need a full workup and possibly medication. I know you’re fearful, but I swear to you that these fears are lies that your brain is telling you, and everything is just fine.”

Lucy was listening. And blinking.

That was a good sign. Taylor waited, not wanting to say anything that would make her sister freak out again.

When Lucy looked at Cate, her eyes questioning, Cate nodded.

“Ellis is telling you the truth, sweetheart. Everything is okay, but, please, let us help you.”

“But the mice … they won’t stop making noise,” Lucy said, putting a hand to one ear. “All day and all night.”

“I’ve checked everywhere, Luce, and there is nothing to prove you have mice. I swear,” Taylor said.

“But—” she looked so confused.

“Will you let me help you into the shower? We’ll wash your hair and get you into some clean clothes before you go. Is that okay, Lucy?” Taylor asked. She had a memory from long ago pop into her brain. She’d helped Lucy shower before, when she’d snuck back into Della Ray’s house covered in dirt and debris, smelling like pig manure and vomit, mixed with whiskey. She’d only been fourteen. Where she’d been was still a mystery.

“I want Mom to help me,” Lucy said.

Cate nodded and helped her stand, then led her to the back bathroom. When they were gone from sight, Taylor met Ellis’ eyes. They were just as sad as hers probably were. He hugged her and, when they parted, Taylor spoke, her words solemn and full of worry.

“So this is Christmas,” she said, ending on a long sigh.