Caitlin found herself at a loss. Obviously Katy Regan was mentally unbalanced, but was that sufficient reason to stop trying to find out what she knew about Pooky Wilson’s murder? Katy had already implied that Pooky had done things to her against her will. Was it possible that Henry had got the story wrong? Had Pooky’s “Huggy Bear” ever known the truth about Pooky and Katy? Had Justus “Pooky” Wilson forced himself on a rich white girl and then paid a medieval price for his transgression? No, Caitlin thought. That’s the classic stereotype. Why would a well-liked black boy risk being castrated or killed for a few minutes with a white girl who didn’t want him?

“Katy?” Caitlin said gently. “What can you tell me about the day Pooky disappeared? Were you happy or sad?”

Mrs. Regan scrunched up her face like a child, then shook her head.

“Did you love Pooky?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Are you sure?”

Katy squeezed her eyes shut like a little kid. “Don’t! Dirty! Dirty bird!”

“Katy?”

“That dirty bird put it in me! He had to be punished!”

Caitlin suddenly realized that Mrs. Regan was sweating profusely. “Who are you talking about, Katy? Are you talking about Pooky?”

The woman nodded, but again the gesture seemed to have been against her will. Then she cried, “Dr. Borgen did it! He put it in me. When the nurses were gone. Every day Katy had to play, or else stay longer in the hole.”

A shudder ran through Caitlin. She wanted to ask for details of what she gathered was sexual abuse by a psychiatrist, but she didn’t know how long Katy would stay coherent. More than this, her first priority remained unshaken: Brody Royal.

“Tell me about your father, Katy.”

Mrs. Regan’s eyes went wide, as though she’d mistakenly opened a door into a theater showing a slasher film. Yet once again the voice that came from her mouth was soft and childlike. “Daddy took care of me. Always. He takes care of us all. When I had the blue devils, Daddy chased them away. When I was alone, he found me a husband. Did you know that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Daddy owns the company Randall works for. He owns Randall, too. Bought him a long time ago, right after I got back from Hay—” Katy winked—“from the institute.”

Without Caitlin realizing it, Katy had uncrossed her legs and sunk deep into her chair. If she sank any farther, she would probably slide right out of it. As Caitlin began to despair of learning anything useful, Katy said, “Pooky was so sweet. He sang pretty, too, all the time. Can you keep a secret?”

Caitlin nodded with what she hoped was girlish enthusiasm.