The Devil's Eye Read Online Free PDF

to a distant location. Nobody would be told where, and she'd start a whole new life. "She must have told someone why." "If so, he hasn't come forward."
    It was a radical treatment, reserved for habitual criminals, for psychopaths beyond the reach of therapy, and for those who wanted to leave their lives behind and start fresh. It was an expensive last resort, still opposed by a sizable portion of the population on moral, ethical, and religious grounds. I was inclined to agree. It's hard to see how it's any different from suicide. Vicki Greene had ceased to exist. "Where is she now?"
    "At St. Thomas Psychiatric. Why do you ask?"
    "Would it be okay with you if I went over?"
    "Why? What's the point? They won't let you see her."
    "I'd like to talk to her doctors." His eyes took on a hostile glint. But he nodded. "Do as you like. I couldn't get anything out of them."
    "Thank you. By the way, is there any kind of memorial planned?"
    "Yes. Day after tomorrow."
    "May I come?"
    "Why? What's your interest in this?"
    "Mr. Greene, she called me. And I should inform you she transferred a substantial sum of money to me. With no explanation."
    "That's crazy. How much?"
    "I think she wanted me to do something for her. I'd like you to help me find out what that might be."

THREE
The mind is a private room, fully furnished with a brain, that may or may not be functional; with passions, ideology, superstitions, and delusions. And a given level of decency. It is a point of view, a perspective, a coming together of everything that makes us human. It is who we are. Once let someone else in, and we are never the same.
    - Love You to Death
    St. Thomas was a care center for people with psychiatric disorders. It was located twenty kilometers north of Andiquar, in a small suburb at the foot of a mountain. It consisted of a drab, square, two-story building wrapped around a domed courtyard. We arrived at midmorning. People were out on the grounds as we descended, some walking, others playing board games. One or two were reading. We descended onto a pad, between snowbanks, and I shut off the engine. Alex sat staring out at the front entrance, at the large white sign marked ST. THOMAS PSYCHIATRIC, and sighed. We climbed out, got onto a cleared walkway, and went inside. The interior was more like a private home than a medical facility. The reception area seemed to open out onto a tranquil ocean scene. In place of desks and counters, there were sofas and armchairs and coffee tables. Windows looked out onto the grounds and the courtyard, and lines of shelves were filled with vases and lamps and flowers and pitchers, anything that might have added to the general serenity. A young man in light blue medical garb came out of an adjoining office. "Mr. Benedict?" he said. "Yes." The man said Dr. Hemsley knew we were there. "He's with a patient at the moment," he said. "Please make yourselves comfortable." Hemsley joined us a few minutes later. He was small, overweight, and looked tired. Without waiting for introductions, he led us into another room. "Please sit," he said. He dropped into a large purple leather chair, propped his feet up on a footstool, and smiled at us. "Mr. Benedict," he said, "you understand she's not my patient." "Oh. I'm sorry. I was directed to you." "May I ask, what's your connection with Ms. Greene? Are you a relative?" "No, I'm not." He looked in my direction. "Is she ?" "You may talk directly to me, Dr. Hemsley," I said. "And no, I'm not a relative." He looked puzzled. "A friend? Is there a legal connection here somewhere?"
    "No." Alex sat back, crossed one leg over the other. "Ms. Greene contacted us for assistance. Several days ago." "I see." He took on the demeanor of a man about to deliver bad news. "Well, in any case, she seems to have negated all that. You're aware of the procedure she's undergone?" "Yes." "It severs her old world. She's-" He hesitated. But I got the impression he was only pretending to search for the proper phrase.