Mick stares up at her, the look in his eyes unnerving. “Robert Griggs was more sadist than homosexual, a guard whose acts you’d probably diagnose as being anger-excitation rape. Foletta purposely assigned him to the night shift in my ward a month before my first evaluation was scheduled. Ol’ Griggsy used to make his rounds about two in the morning.” Dominique feels her heart pounding.

“Thirty residents per ward, all of us sleeping with one wrist and one ankle shackled to the center posts of our beds. One night Griggs came in drunk, looking for me. I guess he decided I’d make a nice addition to his harem. First thing he did was lubricate me up a bit by shoving a broomstick—”

“Stop! Where were the other guards?”

“Griggs was it. Since there was nothing I could do to stop him, I sweet-talked him, trying to convince him that he’d enjoy things a bit more if both my legs were free. Dumb son of a bitch unlocked my leg shackle. I won’t bore you with the details about what happened next—”

“I heard. You scrambled his eggs, so to speak.”

“I could have killed him, but I didn’t. I’m not a murderer.”

“And for that you spent the rest of your days in solitary?” Mick nods. “Eleven years in the concrete mother. Cold and hard, but she’s always there. Now you tell. How old were you when your cousin sodomized you?”

“You’ll excuse me, I don’t feel comfortable discussing it with you.”

“Because you’re the psychotherapist and I’m the psycho?”

“No, I mean yes—because I’m the doctor and you’re my patient.”

“Are we really so different, you and I? Do you think Rosenhan’s staff could determine which one of us belongs in this cell?” He leans back against the wall. “May I call you Dom?”

“Yes.”

“Dom, solitary confinement can wear on a man. I’m probably suffering from sensory deprivation, and I might even scare you a bit, but I’m just as sane as you or Foletta or that guard posted by the door. What can I do to convince you of that?”

“It’s not me you have to convince, it’s Dr. Foletta.”

“I told you, Foletta works for Borgia, and Borgia will never allow me out.”

“I can talk to him. Push him into giving you the same rights and privileges as the other residents. In time, I could—”

“Christ, I can already hear Foletta now. ‘Wake up, Intern Vazquez. You’re falling for Gabriel’s famous conspiracy theory.’ He’s probably got you convinced that I’m another Ted Bundy.”

“Not at all. Mick, I became a psychiatrist to help people like—”

“People like me. Lunatics?”

“Let me finish. You’re not a lunatic, but I think you need help. The first step is to convince Foletta to assign an evaluation team to you—”