Asylum by Madeleine Roux Page B

patient named Bittle, Frank. It had his name, date of birth, and city of origin. There was a box marked “DOA 3.13.1964” that must have meant date of admission. Surely a psych ward wouldn’t treat patients who were dead on arrival? Below that box was another that gave Dan a chill: Homicidal. There were small check boxes for Y and for N . On this particular card, the Y had been checked. Yes. Frank Bittle had been a murderer. Under the Recovered box was an N for No, he had not recovered.
    Abby replaced the card and flipped through a few more. Every single one had a Y checked for Homicidal. Every single one had an N in the Recovered box.
    “Look—this one burned down his own house with his family still inside,” Abby read.
    “They certainly didn’t mention this in the admissions packet.” Jordan reached for another of the cards, inspecting it closely. “This guy killed three wives before he was caught and sent here.”
    Dan’s brain was racing. As Jordan and Abby pulled out more cards, he ducked under them and opened a middle drawer in the file cabinet. Maybe he could find a card on Dennis Heimline, a card that might say what had ultimately happened to him. He flipped through the cards quickly. Gabler, Gentile, Gold. Ah, here was H. Hall, Harte, Heimline … He reached out to pull it—
    —and a hand gripped his shoulder.
    “Got you!” a voice said.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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    CHAPTER
N o  12 
    D an shouted in surprise. In the glare of a new flashlight, he couldn’t see who had grabbed him. He thought his heart would burst.
    “Hey! Chill out! Someone’s going to get hurt down here.”
    It was Joe, the redheaded hall monitor from the orientation meeting. Shit. Dan felt a bead of sweat slip down his temple.
    “A sign and a big lock on the door weren’t enough? How did you get in here anyway? Come on out, it’s not safe. There’s water damage everywhere. Not to mention the rats.”
    Dan swallowed hard. “There wasn’t— We didn’t—”
    “Didn’t what? Think? Now come on, get out of here.” Joe turned around, and in a flash, Dan pulled out the index card on Dennis Heimline and shoved it into his pocket.
    “Shit,” Jordan groaned. “I am so burned.”
    “I’ve got this,” Abby whispered. “Just follow my lead, okay?”
    How could she be so calm? Dan’s hands were shaking, and he was full-on sweating. This was not him. He was not a troublemaker. He was a reader, a studier, and rule follower. Who was this person who broke into offices and stole things?
    Joe waited for them all to get through the passage in the wall, shining his flashlight directly at their feet. When Dan stood up on the other side, Abby looked like she was rubbing her eyes furiously, getting dust all over her face.
    “Is she okay?” Dan asked Jordan softly.
    Jordan shrugged.
    Joe motioned them all into the old reception area. As he corralled them back into the first floor hallway, Dan frantically tried to think of a way to pretend this was all part of his classwork for Professor Reyes. Every excuse sounded more implausible than the last. Joe paused at the door to redo the padlock and said, “Okay, this is what’s going to happen. I’m going to …”
    Suddenly, Abby burst into tears.
    Jordan immediately put an arm around her, and she collapsed against his side.
    “W-we’re s-so sorry, Joe,” she sobbed, wiping her tear-stained face. Her tears left actual streaks down her dusty face. “We d-didn’t mean to b-break any rules. We w-were just so curious.… Please … I’m so s-sorry!”
    It was, in Dan’s honest opinion, too theatrical, and Joe seemed to pick up on that, too, rolling his eyes at her. But then Abby inhaled deeply and burst out with the rawest, most heartbreaking sob Dan had ever heard. Joe looked dismayed, and Dan could see his authority cracking before their eyes. Joe was thinking about what a monster