Page 103 of Mirror Image

“. . . he barely even looked up from whatever he was writing in his little notebook . . .”

A notebook.

Kellogg never used one.

Not when I was a resident.

Not now.

He typed, dictated, tapped at tablets.

Always digital. Always efficient.

But Julian . . .

Julian wrote everything down.

It wasn’t Kellogg she went to after that night.

It wasn’t Kellogg who told her to keep quiet.

My mouth goes dry.

“Oh my God,” I breathe. “Not Kellogg,” I murmur to myself more than her. “Julian.”

Her brow wrinkles.

“You mean Dr. Kellogg? No. He doesn’t have anything to do with this. He’s been very kind to me, actually.”

My mind races as I stare down at the bag full of secrets.

“H-how did you even get these? He keeps them at home under lock and key.”

She shrugs. “I told you, I spent summers organizing his office for him. Lucky for me he’s a creature of habit. Same spare key under the same garden gnome. Same closet combination. Same filing system from when I was thirteen. Some people never change.”

I exhale shakily.

“Mary—Sam—what am I looking at here . . . what’s in these?”

“A story.”

I look up to find her watching me.

“A story? What kind of story?”

“A scary one,” she says, dead serious as she drops her voice. “The kind with monsters under the bed. Like a nightmare you never wake from.”

“Okay, tell me, then.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t. There isn’t time. I have to leave here. Tonight. Now. I should’ve been gone already because once he realizes these are missing, he’s going to come after me.”

My fingers rise to my temples as I shake my head, unable to process everything she’s saying and not saying. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

But, in the end, does that really matter?

I make a snap decision that it does not. My hands fall away, and I level my gaze on hers, willing her to feel my sincerity.

“Tell me what you need from me.”