by Alex MacLean
The hospital called in Dr. Whitney Carr, a speech pathologist, to examine Daphne and determine her level of impairment. Carr looked to be in her early to mid-forties, with plump lips, ice-blue eyes, and wild blonde hair. She had a friendly, vibrant personality and the healthy glow of someone who liked the outdoors.
Audra and Daniel watched from the other side of the bed as Carr set to work. She checked inside Daphne’s mouth with a dental mirror and told her to say aah. Then she wanted to see if Daphne could manage the proper oral movements required for speech. She asked her to open her mouth wide, stick out her tongue, and wiggle it side to side.
Audra could see Daphne struggling with the simple request. Instead of one fluid motion, her movements were slow, labored, broken into three segments.
“Good girl,” Carr said. “Click your teeth together.”
Daphne tilted her head a bit, her face clouded.
“Watch me,” Carr said, and made an exaggerated face of a person chattering their teeth from the cold.
Daphne flicked a glance at her parents and Audra gave her an encouraging smile.
Daniel said, “Go ahead, kiddo. You can do it.”
Daphne’s gaze returned to Carr and her eyes tightened in concentration. Slowly, she pulled her lips back and touched her teeth together four times.
“Good,” Carr said.
She ran Daphne through several tasks like that—smiling, coughing, licking the top of her mouth, and biting her lower lip. She pulled out a feather from her leather briefcase and asked Daphne to blow on it as hard as she could.
“Can you say, puh?” she asked.
Daphne frowned. “Puh.”
“Again.”
Daphne repeated it.
“Okay. Say it fast. Ten times.”
As Daphne started off, Carr timed her. Watching, Audra thought Daphne had done a pretty good job. Daniel sat back in the chair and crossed his arms. Audra heard him swallow.
“Now say, puh-tuh,” Carr said.
Daphne hesitated, drawing a breath. “Puh…tuh.”
“Again. Closer together.”
“Puh…t-tuh. Puh-tuh.”
Carr touched her hand. “Nice. Say puh-tuh. Fast. Ten times.”
Daphne made it through six repetitions before she began to stumble, repeating the first syllable instead of the two in sequence. Audra winced inside. She found it heartbreaking to watch her daughter struggle with tasks she would’ve found easy before.
Carr wrote something down in her notes.
“Okay,” she said. “Now a hard one. Say, puh-tuh-kuh.”
A look of strain crossed Daphne’s face. She squared her shoulders against the incline of the mattress, lowered her eyebrows, and focused on a spot in front of her.
With painful slowness, she said, “P-puh…tuh…kuh.”
Carr smiled at her. “Again. Without pausing.”
“Puh-tuh…kuh.”
“Better. Go again.”
Daphne managed to pull the syllables together on the third try.
“Good girl,” Carr said.
Daphne drew her lips back into a tight line and raised her eyebrows. She glanced sideways at her parents.
Daniel reached over and tapped her arm.
“You’re doing good,” he assured her. “Concentrate.”
Audra winked at her. “Proud of you.”
“The hard part,” said Carr, holding up an index finger. “Say puh-tuh-kuh. Ten times. Fast.”
Daphne stared at her and a hint of bashfulness crept into her eyes. She shook her head side to side.
“Can’t,” she whispered.
“Try it,” Carr coaxed her.
Audra watched, worried Daphne might be so afraid of looking stupid in front of her parents that she’d refuse to go on.
“You got one,” Carr said. “It doesn’t matter if you get ten. See how many you can do. Without stopping.”
Daphne licked her lips. Shutting her eyes, her face worked. Then she tore out of the gate, repeating puh-tuh-kuh for three strings before tripping up. She opened her eyes again and put her head down. A light blush appeared in her cheeks.
Carr leaned forward, her voice and manner warm, sympathetic. “That’s hard for everyone. Don’t let it worry you.”
She moved Daphne onto actual words—cat, catnip, and catapult—and had her focus on repeating catapult. She asked her to name the days of the week. Count to twenty-one. She handed Daphne a comb, a key, and a toothbrush, and told her to mime the actions she’d make when using them.
From that point, the testing got more extensive, delved deeper into Daphne’s reading and writing skills. She had to repeat sentences that Carr read out loud. She had to read sentences to herself and pick the correct answer. Then write down words Carr called out. Describe what she saw in flash cards Carr showed her. Solve easy math equations.
Audra noticed Daphne getting exhausted. She seemed to have trouble absorbing the instructions. Her eyelids began to droop.
Dr. Carr saw it too because she said, “We’re almost finished. Hang in there.”
She wrapped things up by showing Daphne pictures of various objects, numbers, shapes, and colors, and told her to point out the ones she named off.
Audra looked at her watch, surprised at how fast two hours had flown by. Carr thanked Daphne for her time, then she packed up her stuff and headed for the door.
Audra followed her out. “How’d she do?
Carr turned to her, made a sympathetic face. “She’s going to need speech therapy, as you probably know. I’ll do a follow-up in a few days. See how she’s progressing. Once she’s discharged, we’ll have her come into the clinic and get her started on a program.”
Audra smiled. She liked hearing that word: discharged. It meant Daphne was recovering, maybe even going home soon.
“Sure,” she said. “Okay. Thank you, Doctor.”
Audra watched her walk away. When she returned to the room, she found Daphne asleep, holding Daniel’s hand.
Neurologist, Dr. Sophie Mohren, came in at 2:30 p.m. She was a tall, broad woman who looked to be in her thirties. She wore a beaming smile and had thin almond-shaped eyes and sunflower hair wound into a topknot.
She asked Daphne how she was feeling.
“T-tired.”
“Do you have pain anywhere?”
Daphne shook her head.
“No? No headache or anything?”
“No.”
“That’s good. I just want to check a few things. This won’t take long at all. Okay?”
Daphne nodded.
“First. Can you tell me your full name?”
“D-Daphne…Rose…P-Price.”
“What day is it?”
Daphne looked at her parents, back to Mohren, and moved her shoulders.
“You don’t know?”
“N-no.”
“Today’s Wednesday,” Mohren told her. “What month and year is it?”
“Two th-thou…sand. Ten.”
“Good. The month?”
Daphne licked her lips. “Ma-March.”
Audra felt a flutter in her throat, a numbness sink into her bones. Beside her, Daniel shifted in the chair, rubbed a hand over his face. Mohren appraised Daphne for a few seconds. She never corrected her.
“I want you to remember apple, dog, sky. Okay?”
Daphne nodded.
“Repeat them back to me.”
“A-ap…apple. Dog. Sk-sky.”
“Good,” Mohren said. “I’m going to lower the head of your bed now. Try to sit upright.”
Audra went over and placed her hand on Daphne’s back, supporting her, as Mohren lowered the bed until it lay flat.
“Mom,” Mohren said, “take your hand away, please. I want to see if Daphne can sit up by herself.”
Audra stepped back. Daphne sat there, not swaying or falling back.
Mohren smiled. “That’s what I want to see.”
She checked Daphne’s eyes with an ophthalmoscope, then with a penlight
.
“Keep your head still,” she said. “Follow my finger with your eyes.”
Back and forth, she moved her index finger in front of Daphne’s face. Audra watched Daphne tracking it smoothly. There was no dancing in her eyes, no shaking when Mohren paused the finger at the edge of her vision.
“Very good,” Mohren said. “Raise your right arm out in front of you.”
Slowly, Daphne lifted her arm.
“Touch your finger to your nose a few times. Fast as you can.”
Daphne didn’t move fast, but she managed the exercise without missing.
Audra said, “This is just like the field sobriety test.”
Mohren nodded. “Very much so. I’m looking for signs of impairment in the cerebellum.”
Again, she held up her finger in front of Daphne.
“Touch your nose,” she said, “Then touch my finger.”
Daphne paused a brief moment, as if envisioning the actions in her brain. Then she tapped her nose, reached out, and tapped Mohren’s finger.
“Good,” Mohren said. “Well coordinated.”
She increased the difficulty by moving her finger up and down, side to side. Each time, Daphne touched it.
Mohren said, “Put one hand over the other. Palms facing. Good. Now flip the top hand back and forth. Fast as you can.”
Daphne frowned, holding her hands in place, like she was ready to clap. Mohren demonstrated the task for her.
“Like this,” she said.
Daphne watched, an embarrassed smile playing on her face. Her movements were sloppy at first, but after a few tries, she got the hang of it.
Mohren gripped her right hand and told her to relax as she curled Daphne’s arm up and down, pulled it straight out, and twisted her wrist from side to side. She did the same thing with the other arm.
Reaching into her medical bag, she removed a reflex hammer. She lightly tapped an area on Daphne’s forearm and biceps. Both times, her thumb twitched.
“Okay,” she said. “Remember those three items I told you?”
Daphne gave a small nod.
“Tell me them.”
“Ap…ple. Dog. Sk-sky.”
Mohren smiled at her. “Very good. Lay on your back, please. Keep your legs relaxed.”
She rolled Daphne’s right leg back and forth, then lifted it at the knee joint, allowing it to drop back onto the mattress. She repeated the same procedures with the left leg.
She had Daphne place her right foot to her left knee and drag it down her shin and back up again. The same with the other leg. Then she told her to bring her knees up so she could test the strength in her hips.
When Mohren finished, she helped Daphne sit up and told her to swing her legs over the edge of the bed.
“Okay,” she said. “Can you stand up for me?”
Audra felt a glow of hope. This was the moment of truth. Could Daphne walk? Or would she have to learn that all over again?
“Dad,” Mohren said. “Could I get you to go to the far wall, please?”
Daniel got up and walked over.
“Mom. Could I get you to go to the window, please?”
Audra did.
Daphne touched her feet to the floor.
“C-cold,” she said, shuddering.
Mohren chuckled. “Is the floor that cold?”
“Y-yeah.”
Daphne stood straight up, her body shaking a bit.
“How do you feel?” Mohren asked.
“We-weak.”
“Are you dizzy?”
“No.”
“Good. Put your feet together. Arms at your sides. Eyes straight ahead.”
Mohren put her hands up beside Daphne’s shoulders.
“How do you feel now?” she asked.
“S-same.”
“Do you feel dizzy?”
“No.”
“Okay. Close your eyes. Good. Are you dizzy now?”
Daphne shook her head.
Mohren said, “That’s great. Keep your eyes closed. Now lift both arms out in front of you. Hold your palms up.”
She made Daphne stand like that for about twenty seconds, then told her to put her hands down and open her eyes.
“Let’s walk over to Dad,” she said.
Daphne turned around, looked across the room at her father.
Daniel held out his hands. “C’mon over, kiddo.”
With careful steps, Daphne started toward him. Mohren kept close to her side.
“Keep on truckin’,” she said. “You’re doing great.”
Audra smiled. Daphne’s gait looked good to her. Slow, but steady and coordinated.
Daphne walked into Daniel’s arms and he held her close, pressing his cheek against her head.
“Good job,” he told her. “I love you so much.”
When Daphne crossed to Audra, she hugged her mother tightly. Over her shoulder, Audra saw Dr. Mohren give them a look of sympathy.
Daphne pulled back and Audra touched her face.
“I’m proud of you,” she said. “You know that?”
A broad smile lighted Daphne’s face. “Y-yeah.”
Her gaze drifted to the windowsill, to the bouquet Tabitha Landes and her mother had brought in. She moved toward it, leaning her nose close to the flowers and closing her eyes.
Audra glanced over at Mohren. “How’d she do?”
“Great. A physiotherapist will be coming in to see her. I don’t think she’ll need much work. Probably just some tweaking.”
Daniel came over to join them.
“Dr. Carr was in earlier,” he said.
Mohren nodded. “I spoke to her. She’s concerned about your daughter’s speech.”
“Sn-snow,” Daphne said suddenly.
The three adults looked over to see her pressing an index finger to the window and staring out.
“What, honey?” Audra asked.
Daphne turned around, frowning. “Wh-where it…go?”
Audra held her eyes for a moment, heartsick at the confusion she saw there.
“Tell her,” Mohren said.
Audra took Daphne’s hand. “Honey, the snow’s been gone for months. It’s not March. It’s June.”
Daphne’s lips parted and her eyes grew distant.
“You’ve been here since Saturday,” Audra said. “Don’t you remember?”
Daphne did not answer. She gazed out the window once more and her face began to crumple.
48
Halifax, June 18
2:09 p.m.
Alone in his office, Allan took a yellow marker and highlighted a transaction on Todd Dory’s credit card statement. The billing company was Lutz Enterprises, Ltd/Halloween-Mask.Com and the date was October 1st, of last year.
Allan looked up the company website on his computer. They were located in Hartford, Wisconsin. Picking up the phone, he gave them a call and requested a copy of the sales invoice. The woman on the other end hemmed and hawed about their privacy policy. Allan countered by telling her he’d get the Hartford Police to retrieve the invoice for him, if that was what it took. Either way he’d get it. That seemed to soften her stance. She told him she’d fax the invoice to him. Allan gave her the number, then hung up.
He sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. In front of him, his desk was a mess of security videos, crime scene photos, handwritten notes, canvass reports, and statements from Dooly’s staff. Nearly two hundred people had been interviewed in Kaufman’s neighborhood and Eric Clark remained the only viable witness. If anyone else had seen something even remotely suspicious, they weren’t talking.
Allan rose off the chair, walking to the window. He gazed out at the green slope of Citadel Hill on the other side of Rainnie Drive, and up to the fort walls on top. The day was overcast, dreary. So far, the rain stayed away.
A knock came at his door. Captain Thorne poked his head in.
“Hey, Al,” he said. “Just heard some news out of Acresville.”
Allan turned to him.
“Oh?”
“They found skeletal remains on the Matteau farm?”
“The father.”
Thorne nodded. “That’s my guess.”
“Mine too,” Allan said. “He just didn’t up and leave one day. Eighteen years gone. No trace of him.”
“Nope.” Thorne’s face darkened. “Shit, that was one bizarre case.”
Allan shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “I think there’s more to that story than we’ll ever know.”
Thorne stepped into the office and eased the door shut behind him.
In a muted tone, he asked, “How about you, Al? How are you doing?”
Allan shrugged. “All right.”
“Yeah? Still thinking about retiring?”
Allan took a deep breath through his nose, let it out again. He looked down at his shoes for a moment and shuffled his feet, once.
“Still thinking,” he said. “I’ll stay on this case until I either solve it or Audra’s ready to take it over again. Then I’m going back to Toronto to see my son.”
Thorne frowned. “Yeah, about that. Look, I’m sorry, Al. I hated myself for calling you. I know how you wanted to get away.”
Allan stared at him. Not get away, he wanted to say. Leave. Leave all of this behind for good.
“Have you spoken to Audra lately?” he asked.
“Yesterday. Briefly.”
“How’s her daughter?”
Thorne said, “Apparently, she’s having trouble talking. She’s going to need speech therapy. A little physical therapy, I guess.”
“But she’s improving, isn’t she?”
“Oh, yes. She is.”
Allan felt a wash of hope and relief flow through his chest. He smiled.
“Good,” he said. “Good.”
The fax machine rang, then the handshake tones kicked in. Allan watched as a piece of paper rolled out.
Thorne opened the office door. “I’ll get out of your hair, Al. Let you get back to work.”
“Later, Captain.”
Allan picked up the paper. It was the sales invoice from Halloween-Mask.Com. He took it over to his desk and sat down.
Todd Dory had ordered five items: a pair of white contact lenses; a pair of black sclera contacts; a zombie mask; a devil’s mask; and a scarecrow mask.