Identity (Eyes Wide Open) by Ted Dekker Page A

nameplate on the man’s desk read KERN LAWSON. The administrator Christy told him about.
    The man pulled his glasses off and tapped his chin with one of the earpieces. “And you brought a friend, I see. I don’t believe we’ve met. You are?”
    “Austin Hartt.”
    “Ah, I see. The other new arrival. Fisher told me about you.” He glanced at the red folder in Austin’s hand. “You brought your file.”
    Austin felt his pulse thrumming in his temples. His mind spun through their options. He could make his case now—accuse Fisher of foul play—but in doing so, he would only tip his hand. Lawson would take his man’s word over a patient’s without hesitation.
    He could take more time to think through their options. Maybe telling Lawson would end up being the right course. Maybe not. He had to give it more thought.
    “Please, have a seat.” Lawson indicated the two stuffed chairs facing his desk. Beyond them, a wood-panel door stood closed. The main entrance into the office. They’d entered through a side door.
    They sat.
    The administrator picked up a jar of jelly beans that sat on his desk. “Candy?”
    Christy sat still, face as white as a ghost’s. Austin had never liked jelly beans.
    “All right. Plenty more of these in the lounge if you change your minds.”
    He popped one in his mouth and set the jar down.
    “Now then. Let’s be clear about one thing. I understand how disorienting it can be for those with your particular challenges to adjust to a new space, but I want to assure you both personally, as the administrator, that there’s nothing to fear here.”
    He spread his hands, palms up, indicating the facility.
    “We’re here to help you, not hurt you. Can you accept that?”
    Austin hesitated, then dipped his head once. Christy didn’t move.
    “Good.”
    “I have copies of both of your files right here.” He picked up two red files from the corner of his desk and plopped them down in front of him, eyeing them over his reading glasses.
    Lawson flipped open the top file.
    “Alice Ringwald. Acute anxiety disorder. Psychosis. Subject to paranoid delusions with a four-year history of the same kind of behavior we’ve seen from you today. The rest is all here, in perfect order.”
    He set the file aside and opened the cover of the second.
    “And one Scott Connelly. Delusions of grandeur, acute paranoia, psychosis among other things. Evidently you have quite the mind, Scott. We’re here to help you free that mind.”
    He closed the folder, stacked them neatly in the corner, and folded his hands in front of him.
    “But we can’t help you until you first accept the truth. Both of you are quite ill. Some would say mad. Insane. Bonkers. I prefer challenged . I need you to embrace that much if nothing else. Fair enough?”
    This time Austin couldn’t bring himself to react. He wasn’t sure if the man had an angle here or was merely deceived by Fisher. Maybe a bit of both.
    “Just how deep that challenge runs will be up to you.”
    The administrator pushed himself back from the desk and stood. “Either way, I can assure you that there’s no way out of this ward without my authorization. And I mean no way. Trust me on that.”
    He walked over to the door they’d entered through and placed his hand on the knob. Turned back. “Please don’t try again. It will only delay your progress.”
    He opened the door. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have to step out for few minutes.”
    Lawson reached into what was now a shallow closet inlaid with wood paneling, pulled a long black coat off the rack, and shrugged into it as he turned.
    Austin couldn’t tear his eyes from the closet. How?
    He glanced at Christy, who was also staring at that closet, fried.
    “Welcome to your new home, my friends,” Lawson said, then closed the closet door. “I’ll check in with both of you in an hour.”
    With that he walked to the door, nodded at two security men who were waiting patiently just outside, and strode