Page 105 of Pretty Broken Dolls
“Yes, I’m Detective Katie Scott, to see a patient, Sadie Caldwell.”
The woman keyed up the computer and searched. “Yes…But the appointment is just for you.” She gestured to McGaven. “Not you, I’m afraid. It’s policy.”
“We’re police detectives. Can you make an exception?” asked Katie.
“I’m sorry. They are very strict, only allowing one person in.”
McGaven touched Katie’s arm. “Don’t worry about it. Go.”
“Oh, and you’ll have to check your firearm.”
Katie sighed and removed her Glock from its holster, handing it to her partner. “Thanks.”
McGaven left to grab a coffee and wait as Katie was instructed to go up the stairs and turn right until she saw room 111.
It seemed deserted as she climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway. She didn’t see a doctor or nurse. There was just the hum of the heating system keeping her company. Not having any real expectation as to what Sadie Caldwell had to tell her, she pushed on to work every potential lead.
Katie stopped at room 111. It was a white door with no other identification except the number. It wasn’t open or ajar—it was shut. She knocked. Finally she heard a faint, “Come in.”
Katie pushed the door open and walked inside. It was similar to a regular hospital room with the adjustable medical bed, two uncomfortable-looking chairs, and a small table in the corner.
Lying in the bed was Sadie Caldwell. She looked lifeless, like a doll propped up, but her face had color and her eyes looked bright. It was clear that she was on some kind of medication that made her tired and lethargic.
“Hi, Sadie,” said Katie, trying to sound upbeat.
“I’m glad you came.”
“Of course. How are you?” She sat down in a chair near the bed.
“Oh, you know—hanging in there.”
“Do you need anything?”
“You’re sweet,” she said and touched Katie’s hand. “I’m fine. Where’s that handsome tall partner of yours?” She smiled.
“They would only let one of us in at a time. Strict orders.”
“Oh well, I wanted to talk to you.”
Katie waited patiently. She could sense that Sadie had something important to tell her, but was struggling with the words.
“When I first realized that I was having trouble remembering things, I was still working the block. You know…And then I had strange feelings, like someone was watching me, and the feelings turned into whispers…and then voices…”
Katie remained quiet and let Sadie get out what she needed to say. Her compassion ran over; she knew what it was like, struggling with something that wasn’t real, but no one could really understand unless they had experienced it. PTSD was like a ghost she carried around with her—and it was never really gone, only hiding and waiting for the right moment.
“And…well…after I retired and my Sam died, things began to get worse. I heard voices coming from next door at Jeanine’s house. I saw people come and go…”
Katie nodded but remained quiet.
“You see, I don’t know if what I saw and heard was real or in my head.”
“What are you trying to say?” said Katie.
“I saw this dark figure. I thought it was one of those black mass things I sometimes see, but now as I’m sitting here with you…”
“It’s okay. You can tell me.”
Sadie pulled up the blankets as if she felt a chill in the room. “I remember the night that poor girl was killed. I saw someone wearing dark clothing sneak between our houses and go into the backyard.”
