Identity (Eyes Wide Open) by Ted Dekker Read Free Book Online Page A

him that overrode common sense. This wasn’t his business. Christy was. This wasn’t Christy. Therapists had their ways… this might just be one of them. A good one, for all he knew. Mental illness sometimes brought cycles of suffering that could only be broken through atypical therapy. Was he a psychotherapist? No.
    But none of that held him back. He approached the curtain carefully, walking as if the floor was made of cracked glass. They’d stopped talking.
    He turned his head and listened intently. One second stretched into five. A faint ripping sound. What, he had no idea.
    Leave, Austin. Find Christy .
    The movement of the curtain being swept open on its tracks sealed his course.
    Austin jerked back and blinked as light stuttered to life overhead. A man in a white coat stood before him, regarding Austin without expression.
    Austin took him in with a single glance.
    He was tall, six-two, with close-cropped hair. Brown. Sure eyes stared through black-rimmed glasses that perched high on his angular nose. His facial features were chiseled and square. He was meticulously groomed from his starched white dress shirt and perfectly Windsor-knotted crimson tie to his pleated gray slacks, the hem of which fell perfectly to the top of his coal black shoes. A badge with his picture and name clung to his lapel.
    DOUGLAS FISHER, it read. Below his name: ADMISSIONS DIRECTOR.
    Austin drew a breath and tried to calm his startled heart.
    “Lost?” the man said calmly.
    Austin searched for the right response. Nothing presented itself, so he just said, “Yeah.”
    For a long time the man looked at him like someone watching a common animal in a zoo. There was nothing threatening about Douglas Fisher, nothing that seemed out of place. Only the exchange that Austin had overheard.
    A smile slowly formed on Fisher’s face. “You strike me as the kind of person who thinks he knows what he doesn’t.”
    “No, not really. I’m looking for a friend who’s missing.”
    “I see. And what would your name be?”
    His mind spun, but he saw no reason not to answer. “Austin.”
    “Austin?”
    “Hartt.”
    “Austin Hartt. That’s strange. I don’t think I know you. Being the Director of Admissions, I should at least be aware of everyone in our care. But I don’t recall an Austin Hartt.” He paused. “And you say you’re looking for a friend who’s missing?”
    His own predicament settled into his mind. He wasn’t exactly eager to explain his path of entry. Giving his name had been a mistake.
    “Yes, but I must have taken a wrong turn and wandered into the ward. She’s probably in the main hospital. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”
    “No, I’m sure you didn’t. Strange how easy it is to miss the right door.” The man’s smile said he was congenial but the circumstances weren’t adding up. Fisher must know that Austin had overheard part of their conversation. And yet he seemed unworried, which could only mean that what Austin had overheard presented no problem for Fisher.
    He shrugged. “True. I should be going,” he said, and as he spoke, he glanced past the man. A white porcelain sink with exposed plumbing was bolted to the wall. A wooden stand in the corner next to it. A bar of soap, a glass with a toothbrush sticking out. A six-inch handheld mirror, resting against the corner.
    In the mirror: An image of girl with brown eyes and dirty blond hair sitting on what appeared to be a gurney, staring directly at the mirror, seemingly unconcerned.
    There was gray duct tape over her mouth.
    Austin’s eyes flickered back to the director of admissions, who’d turned his head and was looking at the same mirror.
    Fisher faced him, one eyebrow cocked. For a moment, they stood still. Then the man took one step toward the sink, retrieved the mirror, and returned. He lifted it and looked at his own image. Stroked his chin as if checking his shave.
    “Interesting things, mirrors,” he said. “You see something