The Locked East Wing
Chapter 12 - The Locked East Wing
The road to Lakeview wound through mountains and heavy rain. Vivienne insisted on coming, though Thomas warned that the facility might refuse access. Beatrice traveled with them, carrying Amelia’s old yellow coat in a garment bag.
Lakeview Rest Center stood behind iron gates and pine trees, less like a hospital than a forgotten hotel. Its director, Dr. Malcolm Wren, met them in the lobby with practiced politeness.
“We have no patient named Amelia Hawthorne,” he said.
Thomas placed the court order on the desk. “Then you will not object to us examining the admission records.”
The color left Wren’s face.
The files listed a patient named Anna Bell, admitted twenty-six years earlier after a traumatic accident. Her treatment was paid through Vale Medical Holdings. She had no listed relatives and no legal guardian, yet every request for discharge had been denied by a physician who died fifteen years ago.
“Where is she?” Elena asked.
Wren looked toward the windows. “Cottage Seven.”
They found the woman sitting beside the lake, folding paper birds. She was older than the photograph, her body fragile beneath a gray sweater. A pale scar crossed her eyebrow.
Elena stopped several yards away.
The woman looked up but showed no recognition.
Vivienne whispered, “Amelia.”
The woman flinched at the name.
Beatrice opened the garment bag and held out the yellow coat. “Miss Amelia, you wore this the night you climbed the kitchen wall because your mother locked the front gate.”
A faint smile touched the woman’s mouth.
Then Elena’s locket slipped free from her blouse.
The blue swallow caught the light.
Amelia stood so quickly the paper birds scattered into the wet grass. Her eyes fixed on the necklace. She took one step, then another.
“Baby?” she whispered.
Elena could not move.
Amelia touched her cheek with both hands, searching every feature. “They said you did not breathe. Regina said they buried you.”
Elena began to cry. “I was taken to St. Agnes.”
Amelia made a broken sound and pulled her close.
Vivienne turned away, shoulders shaking. For twenty-six years, one woman had mourned a daughter and another had mourned a child, while both remained alive.
Behind them, Thomas noticed Dr. Wren backing toward the cottage door with his phone in hand.
May you like
He was not calling an ambulance.
He was warning someone that Amelia Hawthorne had remembered the name Regina Vale.
