InSight

toward him. “He’s evil, Abby. He’s an evil man.”
    In a defensive reaction, Abby pushed him back a second before Luke yanked Stewart away.
    “Dammit.” Luke’s voice seethed with anger. “Keep your hands off her. Haven’t you done enough?”
    “Sorry. Oh, God, sorry, sorry.” His words came wrapped in panting breaths. “Sorry, sorry.”
    Abby’s heart thumped. Her whole body broke out in hot prickles. “You…you can’t do that, Stewart. I’m not prepared because I can’t see your movements. You scared the hell out of me.”
    “I know. It was stupid, but when you mentioned Scanlon…he tricked me. Right from the beginning he tricked me.”
    Abby drew a few deep breaths to regain her composure, keeping her voice calm and reassuring. “How did he trick you?” Stewart fidgeted.
    “After my…my father’s plane crash, Scanlon gave me pills to relax. Didn’t I tell you? Maybe I forgot. I don’t know any more.” His words fell back into his throat, a mournful lament. “It was in the back of my mind to tell you, but the back of my mind kept going farther back all the time. I couldn’t concentrate. Do you forgive me, Abby? Please say you do. I didn’t mean it.”
    Abby wondered whether she could continue. Stewart was so wracked with guilt he wanted nothing more than to be forgiven. “Yes, Stewart, I forgive you,” she forced herself to say. “I know you couldn’t control what you did.”
    “I didn’t know what I was doing. I remember my paintings telling me things. I don’t remember what any more. Do you think my paintings told me what to do? Do you, Abby?”
    Tears filled Abby’s eyes. “No, Stewart. I think Dr. Scanlon told you what to do.” That bastard.
    Stewart stopped squirming, and the room lulled into an uneasy quiet. “Yes, that too.”
    Listening to her ex-husband convinced Abby that Dr. Herbert Scanlon had performed a variation of verbal mind control in conjunction with irresponsibly dispensed experimental drugs ― planting the seeds of paranoia and controlling its growth. Whatever Stewart knew that resulted in the destruction of so many lives had either been systematically erased from his mind or buried so deep in his subconscious nothing could pry it loose.
    Abby’s anger fermented into a poisonous brew. How could any professional trained to treat mental disorders purposely manipulate a man’s mind, and for what self-serving purpose? Stewart sounded like the Manchurian Candidate.
    “I’m going to make lunch and let Daisy out for a while,” Luke said.
    “Who are you?” Stewart asked.
    “This is my friend, Luke,” Abby said.”
    “Oh, yes, I remember now. The cop. I followed you here.”
    “You—” Luke hesitated. “That’s right, Stewart.”
    “I’ll help Luke make lunch,” Abby said. “Will you be okay if I leave you, Stewart?”
    “Yes, I’ll be okay. I feel better. Can you take off the cuff?”
    “In a while,” Abby said. “Be patient.”
    Luke took her by the hand, and as they started to leave the room, Stewart said, “You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, Abby. Even after everything.”
    Abby stopped. She didn’t turn around but spoke over her shoulder. “Thank you, Stewart.”
    When she got into the kitchen, she broke down in Luke’s arms. He didn’t say anything to soothe her. He held her close and let her cry until she got it all out.
    While Luke cooked lunch, Abby leaned back in the chair, confused, empty, mentally exhausted, and angry. “You were right. Stewart has something or knows something Mrs. Gentry wants, and he won’t let it go. It’s the logical reason he’s still alive. Otherwise, they would have killed him. No one would have suspected murder. Everyone thought he had died years ago anyway. Instead, they stashed him in a mental hospital.”
    “Nothing else makes any sense,” Luke said. “Scanlon, the pills, Collyer. Mrs. Gentry controls them all. Her quack doctor drugged Stewart to get information, then he couldn’t control what happened when his patient went off the deep end. DMT can cause erratic behavior. A user can be fine one minute, then have hallucinations the next.”
    “Sounds like Stewart.”
    “You know, when your mother said Stewart was still alive, I researched him. I wanted to know more about the man you married, before he got sick. Dozens of articles showed his paintings interspersed with interviews. He was an interesting, talented man.” Luke paused, as if he were considering