her.”
“We’ve given her a sedative,” Strickland explained. “She was quite upset when she came in, and from there became uncontrollable. Please understand—we needed to calm her down for her own safety.”
The concern on Rachel’s face surrendered to fear.
“What the hell happened to her?” Duncan quietly demanded. “Did she hit her head, suffer a concussion?”
“She was apparently having her picture taken at school and, according to her principal, just slipped off of her chair and fell to the floor,” Strickland said. “And as far as suffering some kind of head injury, I’m not convinced. There’s no signs of trauma or swelling, anything like that.” She sighed. “But in light of her apparent identity crisis , I’d like to go ahead and schedule her for a CAT scan, just to be sure. I would also like to keep her here overnight, for observation.”
“Yes, of course,” Rachel said.
“If she doesn’t have a head injury,” Duncan persisted, “then would you please tell us why she would suddenly assume someone else’s identity?”
Doctor Strickland removed the patient’s blank medical history form from the clipboard, then craned over it with a pen, seeming to ignore Duncan’s question. “Has your daughter ever suffered from seizures?”
“You mean like epilepsy?” Rachel said.
“No,” Duncan said. “Never.”
“Has she ever sustained a severe head injury?”
“No,” he repeated, feeling his chest tighten with each question.
“Any history of diabetes in either family? Psychiatric disorders?”
They shook their heads.
Doctor Strickland asked more questions, the final one eliciting a murderous gaze from Duncan.
“Drugs?” he hissed. “You’re barking up the wrong tree!”
Strickland remained composed. “I realize she’s only in elementary school, but I have to ask. Sadly, it’s not uncommon anymore to see children her age abusing drugs.”
Rachel took Duncan’s hand, and this calmed him.
“Test her for drugs, then,” he said. “I’ll guarantee that you won’t find her peeing anything stronger than Kool-Aid.”
The doctor smiled sympathetically, shook her head. “Mr. McNeil, I’m pretty sure drugs aren’t to blame. Although she didn’t display all the classic symptoms, I’m inclined to believe that your daughter suffered some sort of seizure, most likely provoked by an outside stimulus.”
“Such as...?” Duncan said.
“The strobe flash of a camera,” Strickland said, as if that should have been highly obvious.
6.
Duncan left Rachel with Amy and hurried his way back to the ER waiting area, hoping that Amy’s principal had not yet left the hospital.
With each step he felt more like a neglectful parent. Contrary to Rachel’s ambivalent ogling back in the “bay,” he was concerned for Amy; passionately so. But he just couldn’t ignore his gut instinct, and right now it was telling him that something wasn’t right; that perhaps something had been missed. This perception wasn’t entirely palpable, just a scent in a mild breeze. But if it was already raising his hackles at this early stage then he would give it his full, undivided attention.
Katherine Bently , he thought. Damned if that doesn’t have a peculiar ring.
He was reminded that he’d not had such potent intuitions, at least in any constabulary sense, since his days on the force. Back then, his inklings and hunches had always proven themselves dead-on, and more than one among his peers had, at one time or other, cast their suspicion that his charmed nose was more precognitive than instinctive. Perhaps even divine. Duncan had just thought himself streetwise, and a good judge of character; still did. Whatever the reasons, he’d quickly garnered a reputation worthy of any blue-ribbon bloodhound.
And any dust that may have settled on those olfactory glands since had just been blown away. Clean away.
Duncan found Kincaid sitting in a small waiting area gazing up at a television
“We’ve given her a sedative,” Strickland explained. “She was quite upset when she came in, and from there became uncontrollable. Please understand—we needed to calm her down for her own safety.”
The concern on Rachel’s face surrendered to fear.
“What the hell happened to her?” Duncan quietly demanded. “Did she hit her head, suffer a concussion?”
“She was apparently having her picture taken at school and, according to her principal, just slipped off of her chair and fell to the floor,” Strickland said. “And as far as suffering some kind of head injury, I’m not convinced. There’s no signs of trauma or swelling, anything like that.” She sighed. “But in light of her apparent identity crisis , I’d like to go ahead and schedule her for a CAT scan, just to be sure. I would also like to keep her here overnight, for observation.”
“Yes, of course,” Rachel said.
“If she doesn’t have a head injury,” Duncan persisted, “then would you please tell us why she would suddenly assume someone else’s identity?”
Doctor Strickland removed the patient’s blank medical history form from the clipboard, then craned over it with a pen, seeming to ignore Duncan’s question. “Has your daughter ever suffered from seizures?”
“You mean like epilepsy?” Rachel said.
“No,” Duncan said. “Never.”
“Has she ever sustained a severe head injury?”
“No,” he repeated, feeling his chest tighten with each question.
“Any history of diabetes in either family? Psychiatric disorders?”
They shook their heads.
Doctor Strickland asked more questions, the final one eliciting a murderous gaze from Duncan.
“Drugs?” he hissed. “You’re barking up the wrong tree!”
Strickland remained composed. “I realize she’s only in elementary school, but I have to ask. Sadly, it’s not uncommon anymore to see children her age abusing drugs.”
Rachel took Duncan’s hand, and this calmed him.
“Test her for drugs, then,” he said. “I’ll guarantee that you won’t find her peeing anything stronger than Kool-Aid.”
The doctor smiled sympathetically, shook her head. “Mr. McNeil, I’m pretty sure drugs aren’t to blame. Although she didn’t display all the classic symptoms, I’m inclined to believe that your daughter suffered some sort of seizure, most likely provoked by an outside stimulus.”
“Such as...?” Duncan said.
“The strobe flash of a camera,” Strickland said, as if that should have been highly obvious.
6.
Duncan left Rachel with Amy and hurried his way back to the ER waiting area, hoping that Amy’s principal had not yet left the hospital.
With each step he felt more like a neglectful parent. Contrary to Rachel’s ambivalent ogling back in the “bay,” he was concerned for Amy; passionately so. But he just couldn’t ignore his gut instinct, and right now it was telling him that something wasn’t right; that perhaps something had been missed. This perception wasn’t entirely palpable, just a scent in a mild breeze. But if it was already raising his hackles at this early stage then he would give it his full, undivided attention.
Katherine Bently , he thought. Damned if that doesn’t have a peculiar ring.
He was reminded that he’d not had such potent intuitions, at least in any constabulary sense, since his days on the force. Back then, his inklings and hunches had always proven themselves dead-on, and more than one among his peers had, at one time or other, cast their suspicion that his charmed nose was more precognitive than instinctive. Perhaps even divine. Duncan had just thought himself streetwise, and a good judge of character; still did. Whatever the reasons, he’d quickly garnered a reputation worthy of any blue-ribbon bloodhound.
And any dust that may have settled on those olfactory glands since had just been blown away. Clean away.
Duncan found Kincaid sitting in a small waiting area gazing up at a television
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