Free The Hopechest Bride by Kasey Michaels

time I was here, before I went to Mississippi,” Meredith said quietly. “I can only hope they’re being as kind to Patsy.”
    Meredith need not have worried, for once inside the large foyer they were greeted by a young doctor who immediately took her and Martha upstairs to the infirmary. “I’ve bent a few rules here, Mrs. Colton, but this is a pretty extraordinary case. Dr. Wilkes? It’s nice to meet you. According to everything I’ve read in the newspapers—and I admit to following this story with great interest—you were a major factor in returning Mrs. Colton to her family.”
    â€œThank you,” Martha said, her sharp brown eyes seeing the institution for what it was, a prison with few amenities for the criminally insane. The paint on the walls was dull, the windows all barred, and the general atmosphere was as gray and chilly as this November day. “It looks like you have the same budget woes as we do in Mississippi, Doctor,” she said as an attendant unlocked the last of a set of three secured doors leading to the infirmary.
    â€œBudget cuts are the bane of my life,” the doctor agreed with a wry smile. “Still, we do what we can. Do you mind? I have to stay with you, as does Dave, our attendant.”
    Meredith stepped through the doorway without answering, and the doctor, Dave and Martha followed her. The room they entered was long and narrow, with equally narrow beds lining both walls. Surprisingly, other than the last one on the left, the beds were empty. But in that last bed lay Patsy Portman, her head turned away from the doorway, her wrists andankles in cloth restraints, her left wrist heavily bandaged.
    â€œGo slow,” Martha warned Meredith, taking her arm for a moment. “Just say hello, and see where Patsy wants to go from there.”
    Martha followed close behind Meredith, then stopped some ten feet from the bed as Patsy turned toward them, the fire in her eyes looking like Hollywood special effects. Martha felt a shiver trace icy fingers down her spine as she looked into the face of Patsy Portman—a face stripped bare by insanity, turned ugly even in its patrician beauty.
    â€œWell, well, well, look who’s here,” Patsy said, her grin grotesque, drool running from one corner of her mouth. Antipsychotic drugs, Martha decided. They often had side effects that included drooling, twitching, and sometimes even a blank expression that could appear almost masklike. Patsy wore that mask now, but it didn’t expand to include those hot, searching eyes.
    â€œPatsy,” Meredith said, reaching out a hand, then drawing it back. “Are you…are you all right?”
    Patsy’s grin widened. “Oh, yeah, I’m great. This afternoon we’re having a pool party. Last night it was a first-run movie in the assembly room, and tomorrow we’re having Queen Elizabeth to tea. Am I all right? God, Meredith, you were always such an idiot! ”
    The doctor stepped forward, but Martha held out an arm, silently motioning for him to stay where he was, say nothing.
    â€œYes, you always were the smart one, weren’t you, Patsy?” Meredith said, her tone surprising Martha, because it sounded so much like her own professional tone. She guessed that Meredith hadn’t been in therapy for five long years without learning a few tricks of the trade. “Always prettier, too, Patsy. Everyone said so.”
    Patsy’s smile turned Cheshire-like, and the woman actually looked as if she were about to preen, to purr. “And everyone was right, too,” she crowed, even going so far as to toss a come-hither wink at Dave, the strapping attendant. Then, just as suddenly as that mood had hit, it disappeared, to be replaced by Patsy’s trembling bottom lip, and even a tear. “Merry, you’ve got to help me. You’re the only one who can help me.”
    â€œThat’s why I’m here, Patsy. I was