Chapter 8 - North Briar
North Briar sat behind a rusted gate forty miles south of Atlanta.
The main building looked abandoned.
One wing had broken windows.
The other had fresh tire tracks.
Detective Brooks called for backup.
Ryan ignored her warning and ran toward the side entrance.
Jessica caught his arm.
"If Harlan is inside, don't make Anna watch you get hurt."
That stopped him.
Police entered first.
They found three rooms with new locks, bottled water, medical supplies, and old patient restraints still bolted to the walls.
Anna was in the last room.
Alive.
Barely conscious, but alive.
Ryan stood in the doorway like a child who had forgotten how to move.
Anna opened her eyes.
He whispered, "Mom?"
She looked at his face for a long time.
Then she smiled through tears.
"You have Thomas's eyes."
Ryan crossed the room and took her hand.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For not finding you."
Anna squeezed his fingers.
"You were a baby. Then you were a boy they lied to. Then you were a man still living inside the lie. None of that was your fault to carry."
Brooks searched the building.
Dr. Harlan was gone.
But he left something behind.
A locked file cabinet contained records for six women treated under the same physician over three decades.
Three were pregnant when admitted.
Two had family trusts.
One was Anna.
And the newest file had been prepared only four days earlier.
The name on the tab was mine.
EMILY CARTER.
Inside was a blank psychiatric evaluation with my date of birth, address, and insurance information already typed in.
At the bottom was a signature line for Dr. Harlan.
The diagnosis field had already been filled out.
May you like
POSTPARTUM PSYCHOSIS.
My baby had not even been born yet.
