Sierra looked around at the barren gardens. “I wonder why Marge was locked up here. From what you say, everyone seems to think she’s harmless.”

“She believes she was kidnapped and used as a test subject here. But it’s possible a doctor or court decided she really is delusional and managed to get her legally committed. It happens.”

The front door of the mansion opened just as North reached out to press the bell. A burly man with a shaved head stood in the hall. He was dressed in green scrubs. His bulging arms were covered in tattoos. An orderly, North concluded. His name tag read Ralph. He narrowed his eyes.

“Follow me,” Ralph grunted. “I’ll take you to Dr. Garraway’s office. Most of the patients are in art therapy or watching television at this hour, but if you happen to see any of them, don’t make eye contact and don’t speak to them. Understand?”

“Got it,” North said.

Sierra did not acknowledge the instructions but Ralph did not seem to notice. He led the way across a small lobby furnished in bland, neutral shades. At the far end of the room he turned down a paneled hallway and stopped in front of a door.

He knocked twice.

“Come in,” a man called in a polished, authoritative voice.

Ralph opened the door.

“Ms. Raines and Mr. Chastain, sir,” he said.

Sierra entered first. North followed. The man behind the impressive desk rose to greet them. Garraway looked to be in his late forties. The lack of lines around his eyes and his tight jawline indicated he’d had a little work done. He was dressed like a lawyer or a CEO, in a jacket and tie. The outfit suited the richly appointed room, with its wood paneling, thick carpeting and cushioned leather chairs, but the jacket looked as if it had been pulled on in a hurry, and the knot of the tie was sloppy. Garraway had obviously put on both items of apparel in haste when he heard he had visitors.

“Please sit down,” he said.

“Thank you for seeing us, Dr. Garraway,” Sierra said, taking one of the leather chairs.

“Of course.” Garraway gave her a warm, professional smile and sat down behind his desk. “We don’t get a lot of visitors, as you can probably tell. Nor do we encourage them. Our patients require a tranquil atmosphere. They are easily stressed. What’s this about a former resident who walked off the grounds a couple of months ago?”

“Her first name is Marge,” North said. “We don’t know her last name, but she was under the care of Dr. Loring. We’re trying to find him because we want to ask him a few questions.”

“I don’t understand,” Garraway said. He frowned in polite concern. “Why do you wish to speak with Dr. Loring?”

“That’s the wrong question,” North said. “Your first question should have been something along the lines of ‘Is Marge all right?’”

Garraway’s eyes hardened. “I don’t have any idea who you’re talking about. Even if this Marge is a former patient, I would certainly not discuss her case with anyone except members of the family.”