The predator in the mirror

"And they sent a ten-year-old girl there?" Alice frowned.

"Lina Novak wasn't sent there immediately. After the fire, she was first kept in a regular psychiatric hospital, but after six months she was transferred to Quiet Haven. Official reason-'severe post-traumatic stress disorder with psychotic episodes, requiring constant supervision in strict isolation.' Unofficially…" Marty shrugged. "Who knows."

"Who transferred her?"

"The head doctor of that hospital, a certain Dr. Garrison. He later became the head doctor at Quiet Haven. And has been running it ever since."

Alice felt the familiar chill. Garrison. She'd already heard the name from David when he talked about the clinic.

"So Garrison has been in charge of Lina from the very beginning," she said thoughtfully. "Interesting. Why?"

"That's not all." Marty slid another folder toward her. "I requested data on the fires. The night the Novak house burned down, there was another fire-at the clinic itself. The wing where Dr. Philip Novak worked caught fire. Three patients and two staff members died. The fire destroyed the archives, the lab, all documents."

"Convenient," Alice raised an eyebrow.

"Very. Investigators tried to find a connection at the time, but couldn't prove anything. Ruled it a coincidence. But there's one detail: a few weeks before the fire, Novak filed a police report claiming he was being threatened. He didn't name names, but said someone wanted to get hold of his research."

"Research?" Alice perked up. "What kind?"

"He was engaged in experimental therapy-treatment through creativity. He believed that through art you could reach the most severe patients, even those unresponsive to medication. He had some developments, methods, notes. All burned."

"Or stolen," Alice added. "And then set on fire to cover the tracks."

"Exactly."

They were silent for a moment, digesting the information. Outside, another gray day was beginning, and rain drummed against the window again.

"Marty," Alice said, "I need everything you have on Garrison. Where he studied, where he worked, who he associated with, what connections he has. And especially-whether he had any conflicts with Novak before the fire."

"Already looking," Marty replied. "But it'll take time. Garrison is a well-known figure in certain circles, he has plenty of connections, including in the police and administration."

"All the more reason to be careful." Alice stood. "I'm going to Morrison's, need to tell him. You keep digging."

She was already at the door when Marty called out:

"Alice, wait. There's something else."

She turned.

"I found a photo of Lina Novak. The one taken upon admission to the clinic." He handed her a black-and-white picture. "Look."

Alice took the photo. A girl of about ten stared back at her-thin, with huge eyes frozen in fear. Long dark hair, sharp cheekbones, thin lips. And suddenly Alice felt her heart stop. This girl was eerily similar to Miranda. Not just similar-she could have been her twin sister.

"What?" Marty asked, noticing her reaction.

"Nothing," Alice forced herself to look away. "Just a thought. Thanks, Marty."

She walked out into the corridor, but the photo of Lina Novak stayed before her eyes. Miranda. Always Miranda. Why did this case cling to her so? Why did every step bring her closer to the pain she'd so carefully hidden?

Chapter 5. First Encounter

"Silence is the loudest scream. Especially when the one who knows the truth is silent. In her eyes, I saw not emptiness, but an abyss full of answers. She didn't want to speak-she wanted me to learn to hear without words."

– From the diaries of Special Agent Alice Wood

Dawn found Alice behind the wheel. She hadn't slept for over twenty-four hours, but adrenaline pumped through her blood faster than any coffee. David stayed in the city-she insisted he wait for her call and under no circumstances take any independent action. After their nocturnal escape from the clinic, they were both on edge, but Alice understood: if Garrison suspected anything, he could transfer Lina or worse. They needed to act quickly and officially.

She pulled into the clinic parking lot at half past eight in the morning. The gray building rose above the wet trees like a medieval fortress, ready to withstand any siege. Alice adjusted her badge on her belt, took a deep breath, and headed for the entrance.

This time, the reception was different. The guard studied her credentials for a long time, then called someone, and within minutes a nurse appeared who led her not to Garrison's office, but straight to the maximum-security ward.

"Dr. Garrison has authorized a visit," she said dryly. "But only fifteen minutes, and in his presence."

"Fine," Alice nodded, though inwardly she tensed. Garrison's presence ruined everything.

She entered the familiar visitation room. Same white walls, table, two chairs. Camera in the corner. In a minute, Lina was brought in.

She looked the same as last time-thin, frozen, face like stone. But when they sat her opposite Alice, something flickered in her eyes-recognition? interest? Garrison stood against the wall, arms crossed, ready to observe.

"Hello, Lina," Alice began as gently as possible. "My name is Alice Wood. I'm an FBI agent. I'm here to help you."

Lina was silent. Her eyes-huge, dark, almost black-stared straight at Alice, unblinking. There was no madness in them. There was a depth that both frightened and fascinated.

"I know you haven't spoken for ten years," Alice continued. "But I also know you wrote letters. Your brother received them. He's here, he wants to help you."

No reaction. Only that penetrating stare.

"Lina, if you know anything about the murder that happened a few days ago in New York, please, give me a sign. Any sign."

Silence. Garrison smirked behind her.

"I told you, Agent Wood, she doesn't react. It's useless."

Alice ignored him. She kept staring at Lina, trying to catch any hint of emotion. And then she noticed: the fingers of Lina's right hand twitched slightly. She tapped on the table-once, twice, three times. A rhythm. Short-short-long. Morse code?

Alice frowned. She knew Morse code-learned at the Academy. Short-short-long is the letter 'U'. Lina didn't continue further, but her gaze flickered momentarily toward Garrison, then back to Alice.

"What are you trying to say?" Alice asked aloud, hoping Lina would continue.

But she already sat motionless, like a statue.

"Time's up," Garrison announced, approaching. "The patient needs rest."

"Just one more minute," Alice requested.

"No." He nodded to the orderlies, who took Lina by the arms. As they led her away, she turned and cast Alice a look that could only be interpreted as a warning.

The door slammed shut.

Alice was left alone, frantically replaying what she'd seen in her mind. Rhythm. Definitely a signal. 'U'-what could it mean? Or was it the beginning of a word? She left the room on unsteady legs.

Garrison was waiting in the corridor.

"I hope you're satisfied, Agent Wood?" he asked with slight mockery.

"Completely," Alice replied coldly. "See you around."

She went outside, got in her car, and only then allowed herself to exhale. She pulled out her notepad, sketched the rhythm: dot-dot-dash. 'U.' What word? Maybe 'Under'? Or 'Up'? Or a name? 'Ulysses'? Too many options.

She dialed David.

"I spoke with her," she said without preamble. "She didn't utter a word, but I'm sure she was trying to tell me something in Morse code. Just one letter-'U.' What could it mean?"

David was silent for a few seconds.

"'U'-could be the start of 'under'? Or 'up'? Or…" he hesitated. "Or it could be 'you.' She was addressing you."

"Me?" Alice thought. "'You'? What was she trying to say?"

"I don't know. But I remembered: as children, we sometimes played with Morse code when our parents wouldn't let us talk at night. She might be using it to communicate secretly."

"So she's deliberately silent, but she can communicate." Alice felt excitement kindle within her. "Garrison was there, so she couldn't speak openly. But she gave me a sign. Now we have to figure out what it means."

"You're going back?"

"Definitely. But more cautiously now. We need to find a way to see her without Garrison."

They said goodbye, and Alice sat in the car for a long time, staring at the clinic windows. Somewhere there, behind bars, was a woman who knew the truth. And who had just given her a key.

Chapter 6. The Shadow Behind

"Curiosity is a trap that fate sets on the path of those who want too much to know the truth. Fear is the guard that should have warned of danger. But when curiosity is stronger than fear, a person walks into the darkness themselves, without waiting to be dragged there." – From the diaries of Special Agent Alice Wood

The drive back to New York took a little over two hours. Alice drove in silence, teeth clenched, gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles went white. David sat beside her, but his thoughts were far away-in that room where Lina remained, where Garrison was probably now yelling at her, threatening her, maybe even hitting her.

"She's in danger," he said finally, as they entered the suburbs. "Because of us. Because we came, Garrison will take it out on her."

"David," Alice shot him a quick glance, "if Garrison lays a finger on her, I'll personally put him behind bars. But right now we need to keep a cool head. If we storm in there now without a plan, we'll only make things worse."

"What plan?" David turned to her. His eyes burned with feverish intensity. "Wait? Until he kills her? You saw his face when he caught us. That's the face of a man with something to hide. And who's willing to do anything to hide it."

"I saw." Alice nodded. "That's why we're going back tonight. Like I said. Marta will help."

"What if Marta was fired? What if they've already thrown her out?"

"They haven't. Garrison was bluffing. He can't just fire her without cause. But even if they did fire her, she has keys, access. She'll help us."

David fell silent, but Alice sensed he wasn't reassured. Two desires warred within him: to rush back immediately, and to trust her experience. For now, the second was winning, but for how long?

They stopped at his building. David got out, but before closing the door, he leaned down to the window:

"What time are we leaving?"

"Ten tonight. I'll pick you up. And please, David, don't go anywhere and don't call anyone. Wait for me."

"Okay." He slammed the door and disappeared into the entrance.

Alice looked at her watch. Five p.m. Five hours until departure. Five hours to sleep, gather her thoughts, prepare. She knew she wouldn't sleep, but at least she could shower, change, recharge her weapon.

She drove off, not noticing the shadow watching her from around the corner.

David went up to his apartment but couldn't settle. He paced from room to room, picked up books only to put them back, turned the TV on and off, sat at his computer and got up again. Thoughts of Lina wouldn't let go. He saw her eyes before him-dark, deep, full of pain and hope. She'd waited for him ten years. Ten years of silence because she knew: if she spoke, Garrison would kill her. And now that he'd finally come, she was in danger again.

"Damn it," David whispered, stopping at the window. Outside, the evening city hummed, lights flickered on, pedestrians hurried by. Ordinary life, with no room for people like him-crushed by truth, going mad from helplessness.

Suddenly, an idea struck him. What if he didn't wait? What if he went now, alone, under some pretext? He could pose as a researcher, a journalist, anything. Get into the clinic, see Lina, warn her they'd return tonight. Or even get her out, if possible.

He knew it was madness. That Alice would be furious. That he could ruin everything. But sitting and waiting while his sister was there, next to a murderer, was beyond his strength.

David showered, changed into dark clothes, slipped a voice recorder and a small flashlight into his jacket pocket. He took a fake ID he'd once made for one of his books-a journalist from a small independent publication. The clinic probably wouldn't check too thoroughly. If he was lucky, he'd just pass as a visitor.

At seven p.m., he left the house. Got in his car and drove north, toward Quiet Haven.

The road stretched endlessly. Darkness fell quickly, and the headlights picked out only wet asphalt and roadside poles from the gloom. David drove fast, barely feeling the speed. Options ran through his mind: what he'd say, how he'd act, what he'd do if Garrison appeared.

The clinic appeared around a bend unexpectedly-a huge dark building lit by sparse lamps. David parked in the same lot as before, but farther from the entrance, in the shadow of the trees. He turned off the engine and sat for a few minutes, gathering his courage.

Then he got out and headed for the main entrance.

A dim light burned in the reception area. Behind the glass sat a duty nurse-not Marta, a different one, unfamiliar. David tapped on the window; she looked up.

"Can I help you?"

"Good evening," David tried to make his voice sound confident. "I'm from the independent magazine 'Mental Health America.' I have an appointment for an interview with Dr. Garrison."

"An interview?" the nurse frowned. "Strange, no one told me. Dr. Garrison usually gives notice."

"Maybe he forgot." David smiled his most charming smile. "I can wait. It's very important for our article on modern treatment methods."

The nurse hesitated, then shrugged.

"Wait here. I'll call him."

"No, don't!" David blurted out. The nurse looked at him in surprise. "I mean… I'd prefer to surprise him. We're doing a series of profiles on doctors working in challenging conditions. I want to catch him off guard, you know? Unprepared."

The nurse eyed him suspiciously.

"Strange approach."

"That's modern journalism." David spread his hands. "Okay, let me just go to the ward and wait there. Maybe someone from the staff can show me around while the doctor's busy?"

"Not allowed."

"Please." He pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his pocket and slipped it discreetly through the window. "For your trouble."

The nurse looked at the money, then at him, then back at the money. Apparently the sum was tempting.

"All right," she said, quickly pocketing the bill. "I'll call an orderly to take you to the ward. But if the doctor gets angry, I don't know anything."

"Deal."

In a few minutes, an orderly appeared-a young guy with an indifferent face. He nodded silently and led David down long corridors. They passed several security checkpoints, went through heavy metal doors that opened only with keycards.

"Where exactly do you want to go?" the orderly asked without turning.

"I heard you have a maximum-security ward. I'd like to see it."

The orderly grunted.

"No outsiders allowed there."

"I'm not an outsider, I'm a journalist. I have permission."

"Permission from Dr. Garrison?"

"Yes," David lied. "Verbal."

The orderly stopped, looked at him doubtfully, then shrugged.

"Okay, hell with it. If anything, you didn't see me."

They approached a door marked "Ward 4. Maximum Security." The orderly swiped his card; the door opened.

"Go straight, then left," he said. "I'll wait here."

David nodded and stepped into the dimly lit ward. The corridor here was narrower, the lamps burning dimly, smelling of medicine and something sour. Strange sounds came from behind doors-muttering, crying, sometimes screams.

He walked quickly, trying not to think about being in a ward for the most dangerous criminally insane. Cameras hung on the walls, but he tried to stay close to the walls to avoid their lenses.

Suddenly, a wild howl erupted at the end of the corridor. David froze. The cry repeated, closer now. Doors slammed, footsteps pounded.

"Escape! A patient escaped!" someone yelled.

David pressed against the wall. Orderlies ran past him, some with batons, some with tasers. In the chaos, no one noticed him. He dashed forward, hoping in the confusion to reach Lina's room.

But he hadn't gone ten meters when a huge man in a torn hospital gown burst around a corner. His eyes blazed with madness, a metal chair leg clutched in his hand.

"Aaaagh!" he roared, spotting David, and charged.

David barely dodged. The escapee flew past, slammed into the wall, spun around, and lunged again. David threw up his hands to defend himself, but the blow hit his shoulder, and he was flung against the door of some room.

Then orderlies arrived. They piled onto the violent patient, wrestled him to the floor, strapped him into a straitjacket. He thrashed and screamed, but they held him tight.

David got up, rubbing his bruised shoulder. At that moment, one of the orderlies noticed him.

"And who the hell are you?" he barked.

"I'm… I'm a journalist," David tried to smile. "I was escorted…"

"Journalist?" The orderly stepped closer, peering at his face. "What the fuck are you doing here? This is a secure ward!"

"I was looking for Dr. Garrison…"

"Dr. Garrison is in another wing. You're violating protocol." The orderly grabbed his arm. "Come on, let's sort this out."

"Let go! I'm here on business!"

But the orderly was stronger. He dragged David down the corridor, away from the ward, somewhere downstairs, into the basement. David tried to break free, but a second orderly came to help, and together they subdued him.

"Let go, damn it!" David shouted. "I'm not a patient!"

"Who knows," the first one snorted. "Nighttime, in the violent ward, no pass. Just a trespasser."

They shoved him into an empty room with concrete walls and a steel door. David fell to the floor, and the door slammed shut behind him with a clang that made his ears ring.

"Hey!" he yelled, pounding on the door. "You have no right! I demand a lawyer!"

But only receding footsteps answered from the other side.

David slid down the wall to the floor. The room was cold, dark, and damp. It smelled of mold and urine. Somewhere, water dripped.

He closed his eyes. Fool. Arrogant fool. Alice had warned him, and he hadn't listened. Now he was trapped, and who knew what they'd do to him.

And somewhere above, in her room, Lina was probably waiting for him. And she'd wait in vain.

Alice called David at nine p.m. The phone didn't answer. She dialed again, then again-subscriber unavailable.

"Damn," she exhaled.

Everything inside went cold. She knew this symptom-when someone who should be sitting still suddenly disappears, it means they've done something stupid.

She dressed quickly, grabbed her weapon, and rushed out of the house. In the car, she dialed Marty.

"Marty, urgent! David Morrison is missing. He probably went to the clinic alone. I'm heading there. If I don't check in within two hours, send backup."

"Alice, what is this freelance operation?" Marty worried. "Let me come with you."

"No time to wait. Do as I said."

She hit the gas and sped onto the highway.

In the room, David sat leaning against the cold wall, trying not to panic. Thoughts raced through his mind: what would Alice say, what would Garrison do if he knew he was here, how would Lina react. But most of all, he feared the unknown.

How long would he sit here? An hour? A day? A week? They could easily declare him a patient, drug him, turn him into a vegetable. In places like this, anything was possible.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside the door. David jumped up, pressed his ear to the cold metal. The footsteps approached, then stopped. Someone stood right outside.

"Hey," David called softly. "Who's there?"

Silence. Then a barely audible voice:

"Simon?"

David's breath caught. It was Lina's voice.

"Lina!" he cried. "Is that you?"

"Quiet," she whispered. "Garrison is looking for you. He knows you're here. I came to warn you."

"How did you… how did you get out?"

"I have my ways. Listen carefully. They'll move you to the general ward in the morning. There you'll meet people who will help. Trust only those who know the poems."

"What poems?"

But the footsteps retreated again. Lina vanished as suddenly as she'd appeared.

David pressed his forehead to the cold door. His sister was nearby. She spoke to him. So all wasn't lost.

He sat on the floor and waited for morning.

Morning came slowly. David hadn't slept, listening to every sound. Finally, the lock clanked, the door opened. Two orderlies stood there with indifferent faces.

"Out," one said.

"Where?"

"General ward. You'll be living with others."

David stepped out. They led him through corridors, past more barred doors. At one point he saw Marta-she was carrying a tray and gave him a barely perceptible nod of encouragement.

They pushed him into a large room with four beds. Three patients were already there-an elderly man with a Bible, a young guy rocking back and forth, and another lying face to the wall.

"Meet your new roommates," the orderly smirked. "Solomon, Kevin, and Tommy. Play nice."

The door slammed shut.

David looked around. The room was slightly larger than the basement cell, but just as squalid. Dirty windows high up, smell of unwashed bodies and medicine.

The elderly man with the Bible looked up.

"New guy?" he asked quietly.

"Yes."

"My name's Solomon. I've been here five years. You?"

"I'm not a patient," David said. "I was locked up by mistake."

Solomon smiled bitterly.

"Everyone here is by mistake. Who did you come to see?"

"My sister. Her name is Lina Novak."

The old man flinched.

"Lina? You're Lina's brother?"

"Yes."

"Then hang on." Solomon crossed himself. "She's the boss around here. Everyone's afraid of her, even the doctor. If she's for you, you'll survive."

"And if not?"

"Then pray." Solomon went back to his Bible.

The young guy stopped rocking and stared at David.

"You're really her brother?" he asked.

"Really."

"Cool." The guy grinned, showing toothless gums. "She protects us. The orderlies are afraid of her. If anything, she helps."

"How does she help?"

"In different ways. Swaps someone's meds, passes notes. She can do anything. She's a saint."

David looked at the third roommate, lying face to the wall. He suddenly stirred, turned over. It was a man about thirty, with intelligent, lively eyes, not at all like a madman.

"Lina's brother?" he asked.

"Yes."

"My name's Tommy. I'm here because of Garrison. Knew too much. Lina promised to help me get out. If you're with her, I'm with you."

David nodded. Silence fell in the room. Somewhere beyond the wall, a patient screamed, but here, in this little room, it was quiet.

David lay down on the empty cot and closed his eyes. He was trapped, but not alone. He had allies. And he had a sister who knew how to escape.

He just had to wait and trust.