Free Identity (Eyes Wide Open) by Ted Dekker

Fisher is.”
    “Okay, listen to me.”
    She muttered to herself. Held her head in her hands. “They’re coming.”
    “Look at me. Look at me.”
    She faced him.
    “I need you to get me out of these.” He pulled at the restraints. “Can you do that?”
    Her trembling fingers fumbled with the fat leather straps. Her breathing was shallow. After several tries she managed to free his right hand.
    He slipped it out of the leather cuff and reached across his body. His fingers made quick work of the second restraint and he sat up. Excruciating pressure bloomed in his head with the rush of blood.
    He grabbed a fistful of the bedding. Clenched. Waited for the pain to settle to a dull roar.
    “Are you okay?” Christy asked.
    “I’m fine.” He wasn’t though.
    Austin scooted to the foot of the bed. He dropped his feet to the floor and stood.
    Fueled by a potent mix of pain and adrenaline, his mind crackled with renewed clarity. It might be temporary, he knew that. He had to think quickly.
    “Christy…”
    He turned and saw that she’d closed the distance between them. She slipped her arms underneath his, around his body, and lay her head on his chest.
    He stood there for a moment feeling her body tremble.
    “I knew you would come,” she said.
    He held her gently. They were alive and together—that was good.
    They were in a psych ward. As patients. That wasn’t so good.
    Her shoulders heaved.
    “Hey, listen,” he said softly. He pulled back and held her at arm’s length. Fat tears carved trails down her cheeks. “It’s gonna be okay.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “It will be. We just need to figure this out.”
    She bit her lower lip, on the edge of a cliff somewhere in her mind. What had they done to her? He needed to keep her head in the game.
    “Good,” he said. “We have to reason our way through this. Right? Don’t go crazy on me.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “Crazy? You think I’m crazy?”
    “Bad choice of words. I need you to get hold of yourself.”
    “I’m not crazy.”
    He checked the door with a glance. “Keep it down. Of course you’re not crazy.”
    “I’m not.” This time her words came out as barely a whisper.
    “But you’re obviously stressed out, and you’re not thinking straight. The only way we’re getting out of here is if we stay calm and figure this out.”
    “You’re right.” She ran her hands through her hair. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
    He paced across the room. With each passing moment the cloudy layer in his mind burned away.
    “Tell me everything . Focus. What happened to you this morning after you got here?”
    The story spilled out of her in one rush of ragged emotion. The panic she felt in the passageway. Her phone call to Austin. The run-in with the hospital staff. The mix-up that led to her admission. Lawson. All of the pieces clicked into place for Austin.
    “You had no ID on you?” he asked.
    “No. I left everything at home.”
    He noticed the blue plastic wristband on her left hand. He reached down and twisted it. A series of numbers were printed on it. Next to the numbers, a name: RINGWALD, ALICE.
    Alice.
    Austin jerked his left hand up. A similar band snugged his wrist. The name on it: CONNELLY, SCOTT.
    A pang of terror rose in his gut.
    “What?”
    “Of course,” he said. “Fisher.”
    “Who’s Fisher?”
    “After I got your call, I traced your steps to the storage room. I found the way into the hospital that you took. While I was in the basement, I stumbled onto something I wasn’t supposed to see. A hospital employee was down there. A man—Douglas Fisher. His name badge said he’s the admissions director. He was performing some form of therapy on a young girl. Whatever he was doing, I wasn’t supposed to see it.”
    “He did this to you?” she asked.
    “He injected me with some kind of sedative. That’s the last thing I remember.”
    “Oh no.”
    Austin churned through the possibilities, but there were too many to process so