Chapter 4
Claire
The GPS led me to a sprawling brick building with barred windows. Brookside Psychiatric Hospital. Even the name sounded depressing.
I parked Macy's Honda in the visitor lot.
'You ready for this?' Macy's voice was anxious in my head.
"Ready as I'll ever be to visit my fake mom in the loony bin while stuck in someone else's body."
The lobby smelled like disinfectant. The receptionist barely looked up from her magazine as she checked my ID and waved toward the elevators.
"Room 247. Visiting hours end at four."
I found the room easily enough. Through the small window in the door, I could see a woman sitting in a wheelchair by the window.
Susan Hartley. Macy's mom.
Nothing like the smiling woman in all those photos back at Macy's place. Her graying hair hung limp around a face that seemed permanently confused, eyes unfocused and distant.
'Oh, Mom.' Macy's mental voice cracked.
I knocked softly and entered. "It's me, Macy."
Her head turned slowly, and for a moment, her eyes cleared. "Macy? My baby?"
"Yeah, Mom. It's me." I approached carefully and took her hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong.
"Something's different about you," she whispered. "You don't feel like my Macy."
Before I could answer, the door opened behind me.
"Oh, there you are!" A cheerful nurse in pink scrubs bustled in. "Mr. Williams said you'd be bringing Auntie for her tests today."
My blood turned to ice. 'Shit. Shit, shit, shit.'
"Tests?" I managed to keep my voice level.
The nurse smiled brightly. "Don't worry, just routine bloodwork. Mr. Williams arranged everything."
That's when I heard footsteps in the hallway.
Austin appeared in the doorway, carrying a garment bag and wearing that charming smile that made my skin crawl.
"Baby, why didn't you tell me you were coming?" He stepped into the room like he belonged there. "I was just bringing some new clothes for your mom."
He unzipped the garment bag and pulled out a sundress. Light blue with tiny white flowers.
'This was a test. He wanted to see if I'd slip up.'
Austin held up the dress, watching my face carefully. "Let Auntie try this on. You always said she loved floral prints."
My heart hammered against my ribs. Did Macy's mom like flowers? I had no fucking clue.
But then Macy's consciousness stirred.
'She does. She loves anything with flowers. Especially blue ones.'
"Thank you, honey," I said, forcing a smile. "Mom will love it. You know how she adores anything with flowers."
Austin's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but he nodded. "Of course. I remember."
The nurse clapped her hands together. "How sweet! Now, let me just get Mrs. Hartley's afternoon medication."
Susan suddenly gripped my hand tighter. "Don't trust him," she whispered so quietly I almost missed it. "He's not what he seems."
'Mom knows,' Macy's voice was excited. 'She's been pretending to be worse than she is.'
The nurse returned with a small paper cup full of pills and a glass of water. "Here we go, Mrs. Hartley. Dr. Morrison said to increase the dosage today."
Susan stared at those pills like they were poison. Which they probably were.
'Those pills aren't right,' Macy's voice was urgent.
Without thinking, I reached for the cup. "Wait, she can't take those."
"Excuse me?" The nurse looked confused.
"She's allergic," I said quickly, knocking the cup from her hands. "Those will make her break out in hives!"
"Oh my!" The nurse dropped to her knees, scrambling to collect the scattered medication. "Mr. Williams didn't mention any allergies..."
Austin stepped closer, his jaw tight. "You never told me about any allergies, Macy."
Fuck. I was improvising wildly now.
"Remember when she had that reaction last month?" I made my voice sound exasperated. "Her skin got all blotchy and she couldn't stop scratching? I specifically told you about it."
Austin studied my face, and I could see him trying to recall if this conversation had actually happened.
"Right," he said slowly. "I must have forgotten to mention it to the staff."
Twenty minutes later, I was helping Susan toward the hospital's front entrance.
"Where are we going?" Susan asked, but her voice was stronger now, more alert.
"Somewhere safe," I told her.
Lucas was waiting in the parking lot, engine running. I'd texted him from the bathroom while Austin was arguing with the nurse about medication protocols.
Just as we reached the main doors, Susan pressed something into my palm. A folded piece of paper.
"The garage," she whispered. "Old toolbox. Back corner."
I barely had time to shove the note into my pocket before Austin appeared behind us.
"Going somewhere?" His voice could have cut glass.
"Mom wanted some fresh air," I said. "The rooms are so stuffy."
"She needs to stay here, Macy. For her own good."
I realized I couldn't go head-to-head with him right now, so I helped Susan back to her room.
Back at the house, I waited until Austin left for his "lawyer meeting" before heading to the garage.
The note Susan had given me was brief: [Tools in old red toolbox. Back corner behind paint cans.]
I found the toolbox exactly where she'd described. It was covered in dust and looked like it hadn't been touched in years. Perfect cover.
Inside, wrapped in an oily rag, was a socket wrench set. One of the pieces—a specific brake line wrench—had dark stains that could easily be brake fluid.
'That's it,' Macy's voice was certain. 'That's what he used on your car.'
I was shoving the wrench into my bag when I heard the garage door opening.
Shit.
Austin's footsteps echoed on the concrete as I quickly closed the toolbox.
"What are you doing out here?" His voice was suspicious.
I turned around, holding up a dirty rag. "This old toolbox is filthy. I thought I'd clean it up a bit." I gestured at the wrench still in my other hand. "Most of this stuff looks pretty useless. Should I just toss it?"
Austin stepped closer and snatched the wrench from my hand. "Don't throw anything away. Some of these tools are expensive."
He examined the wrench for a moment, and I held my breath. But apparently, he just saw an old tool, not evidence of murder.
"Just... leave the garage alone, okay?" He set the wrench back in the box. "I need you to make dinner. I'm expecting an important call tonight."
"Of course, honey." I smiled sweetly. "Whatever you need."
As he turned to go back inside, I touched the bag where the brake line wrench was hidden.
'We got it,' I thought to Macy. 'We actually got the evidence.'
'Now what?'
'Now we make him pay.'