At his door, she stole a look through the window. He huddled on a single cot in his blue hospital-issued pyjama bottoms and a faded white T-shirt. The bed looked far too small for him. His knees were drawn up to his chest, and he’d wrapped his arms around them. Someone had shaved his face, probably yesterday, and his eye was closed. Was he sleeping while sitting upright? She’d read men in combat could do seemingly impossible things like that when there were no other options. She knocked, saw his head lift, then let herself in.
“Mr. Neumann,” she said quietly. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but I—”
He turned his head slightly, regarding her. “Guess I’m the one with the good memory. You’re Dr. Hart. I amMajorNeumann. Does that help?”
The deep purple bruising around his face had dulled to a sickly green-yellow, and the swelling was down. The cut on his lip was still there, but it was healing. He made no attempt to smile.
“I’m sorry, Major. May I come in and speak with you for a few minutes? Are you feeling up to a visitor?”
“How am I supposed to know? I say one thing and the people here say another, and they claim they know better. Whatever. Come on in.”
“How are you feeling?”
He lifted a shoulder then dropped it. “Sluggish from the drugs, but at least they haven’t chained me up again.”
“You were never chained.”
“Semantics, Doctor. I was cuffed. Just softer chains.” He moved lethargically, gestured to a chair by the door. “Come on in. Let’s get the party started.”
She took the seat, aware of his gaze on her the entire time.
“Major Neumann, I recently spoke with Dr. McKenny about your case. Do you remember him?”
“Vaguely. He thinks he’s smart, but he don’t know much.”
That startled her. “Dr. McKenny is a brilliant psychiatrist. To what are you referring?”
“Calling it as I see it. He kept asking what I was thinking, but I don’t think he understood the answers.” His voice was cool, composed. He didn’t seem to care. “So where is he today?”
“I requested to take over your case, and he has agreed.”
She let that sink in.
His back straightened against the wall, and he adjusted so he could look straight at her, not around his patch. “Why would you do that? I thought you were afraid of me.”
“Should I be?” She observed him closely, scouting for any sign of threat, but she saw only surprise, then concern.
“I don’t think so.” His tone had lightened, which was good. She’d caught his attention. “But I’ll be honest, I don’t know a lot. I got no real idea why I’m here.” His fingers crept over the black patch where his eye had once been. “This probably has something to do with it.”
“You don’t remember how that happened?”
“Not much.”
That was interesting. Dissociation often, but not always, included amnesia as a symptom.
“But you do remember some of it?”
It was like she’d flicked a light switch off, the way his expression dropped. There was a flash of… something feral, then it was gone. She briefly wondered if she should have come with protection, like Paul had suggested in his notes.
“No.”
She could be smart and stop there with this line of questioning. She could get help from an orderly, just in case. Or she could continue, and offer trust by doing so.Do something that scares you, Paul had said. So she kept going.
“The other day, you yelled at me to help you. You said you needed to get out and help someone. Do you remember that?”
He shook his head, nothing more. There it was, she thought. The nugget she needed to dig for. A mine in a dark field. If she dug at the wrong angle, it could explode.
She set her file on the floor, reaching for a more personal connection. “I want to get to know you better, Major. That’s the only way I can help you.”
