“One of those postcards, looks like. I took a shot of it, just the front, not the back. It’s very interesting.”
“Let me see it.”
He handed her his phone before she could grab it out of his hand. She zoomed in on the bright blue photo.
“That’s the lighthouse in Lightkeeper Bay,” she exclaimed.
“Yup.”
“Why would his old psychiatrist send him that? Or was it someone else?”
“There’s only one way to find out. But I can’t go back there. I nearly got busted. You’re going to have to pull rank.”
“Right. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
She hurried off, leaving him alone with half a dozen mental patients and his thoughts.
He looked down at the photo on his phone again. A generic postcard of the lighthouse in Lightkeeper Bay seemed innocuous enough, but if he had murdered someone at the inn, it was an odd choice, surely? A reminder of his crime, of one of the worst moments of his life. Or did it have nothing to do with Peterson’s past?
“Here he is,” said the orderly as he helped an elderly man with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair toward the chair next to Jack’s. He was smiling slightly, his face smooth, with no worry lines. “You got visitors, Mark. How about that?”
“Who’s that?” Mark asked with a bare minimum of curiosity.
Jack stood up and offered his hand. “I’m Jack.”
“No. I’ve seen you. You’re not Jack.”
Did everyone at this hospital watch Dark of Night? “Sorry, you may know me as Denver.”
“Yes.” He snapped his fingers. He looked oddly happy for a psychiatric patient—or at least Jack’s idea of one. “Denver. Denver Black. Hello, Denver.”
“Hello, Mark.”
How surreal, to be exchanging greetings with a paranoid schizophrenic/possible murderer. He really wished Tina was here to ask the next questions.
The orderly helped Mark into the chair next to Jack’s, then went to tend to another patient. Mark offered no resistance, as if he was used to doing what he was told. His eyes were a similar blue as Linette’s in the age progression, maybe a shade less intense. He was probably seventy or so, but he seemed almost childlike. Was that due to the medication he was on?
Jack shot a desperate look towards the entrance, wishing Tina would appear, but he was on his own for now.
“I wanted to talk to you because I’m looking for your son.” What name did Mark Peterson call his son by? Jack had no idea.
“Son?” Peterson said blankly.
“Yes.” Instead of using a name, Jack pulled up the clearest photo he had of Adam Johnson/Seth Baker. “Do you know where he might be?”
Mark squinted at the photo. “Is he on TV like you, Denver Black?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Didn’t he know his own son? Supposedly Adam visited often. Or…maybe they’d taken a wrong turn on this journey and had the wrong guy. Jack’s heart sank at the idea this might be a dead-end.
“How about this woman? Do you know her?” He flipped to the age progression of Linette Mansfield.
“Pretty. She’s very pretty.”
Still he showed no signs of recognition. Maybe Jack needed to provide more details.
“Yes, she is. Did you know she got married to the man who owns the Lightkeeper Inn on Sea Smoke Island?”
Those names drew no reaction from Mark Peterson. Did they mean nothing to him?
