Free The Golden Spiral by Lisa Mangum Page B

hold on until I could find a way to fix things, return them to the way they were supposed to be.
    “Yes,” I said. “I will.”
    Leo nodded solemnly. “Good. Then what would you like me to do first?”
    ***
    Leo and I talked for another hour, trying to figure out a plan of action, but without knowing exactly where Dante was or what exactly was happening to him, it was hard to settle on something that would work. Finally, I asked Leo to go back to the bank and make sure—doubly sure—that Dante wasn’t there. It was all I could think of to do. Leo wasn’t happy about it, but in the end he agreed. I assured him I would be fine while he was gone, but once he had left and I was alone in the broken ruins of the Dungeon, I wondered if I had told him the truth.
    Fine was such a noncommittal response, a word that covered a host of emotions and meanings. It was the best I could hope for under the circumstances.
    I turned the ballerina on her music-box stand, the notes filling my hands like fine grains of sand. But once they slipped away and I was left standing in silence, I realized how hard it was to hold onto anything anymore.

Chapter
    6
    You’re sure you want to go by yourself?” Mom asked me the next afternoon. She had parked the car in the small lot, but left the engine running. She touched my arm as I stole a glance at the building in front of us and read again the sign posted in the immaculate lawn: James E. Hart Memorial Hospital.
    The building didn’t look like a hospital. In fact, it looked more like a bed-and-breakfast with its brightly painted shutters and gingerbread trim around the eaves. A flower bed lined the cobblestone walkway, and a white wicker patio set sat empty beneath a tall oak tree. It looked so normal it gave me the creeps.
    I took a deep breath and unfastened my seat belt. “I’d like to see her alone. I’ll be okay,” I said, hoping it was true.
    “Call me when you’re done?”
    I nodded and opened the car door. I waited until Mom had driven away before I turned and walked up the short path to the front entrance.
    The woman who opened the door was dressed in pastel hospital scrubs; her shoes were somewhere between sneakers and slippers. She wore a small plastic name tag that read “Dr. Blair.” She smiled brightly at me. “You must be Abby,” she said, stepping aside so I could come inside. “Dr. Hamilton said you would be coming by today.” She closed the door and looked at me expectantly.
    “Oh, sorry,” I said, fumbling in my purse for the note from Dr. J. Hamilton’s office granting me permission for a one-hour visit with Valerie. Since when did friends need a doctor’s note to visit? It sounded like the setup to a very bad joke with a worse punch line: When that friend was in a mental institution.
    I handed the note to Dr. Blair, feeling awkward and uncomfortable and hating every moment of it.
    She briefly glanced at the note before tucking it into her pocket. “Right this way, please.”
    I followed her into a side room that had been decorated more like a parlor than an office. Instead of hard plastic chairs along the wall there was a cozy love seat draped with blankets and covered with pillows. Dr. Blair sat down behind a desk and adjusted the lace tablecloth, moving the vase of fresh flowers to the other corner of the desk so we could see each other more easily. She turned on the stereo, and soft music floated into the room from hidden speakers.
    I felt the hairs on my arms prickle with unease. Why couldn’t it just have been a hospital? I could have handled a hospital. I didn’t know what to make of this strange hybrid of hospital and hotel.
    Dr. Blair clasped her hands on the desk and smiled at me.
    I felt strangely like I’d been called to the principal’s office. I sat on the edge of the love seat, tense and ready to bolt out of the door if given the chance.
    “Abby, there are a few general rules here at James E. Hart Memorial Hospital.”
    I nodded, gripping my