Emma’s stomach rolled. “Oh my God.”

“Then Dr. Thompson started his physical exam.” A single tear rolled down Clara’s cheek and she swiped it away. “That girl had been violated in every way possible. There were cuts all over her body and a brand in the middle of her back in the shape of a pentagram. I had to leave the room for a few minutes. It’s the only time I’ve ever gotten sick on the job, but I’m not ashamed of it. An hour after he finished the exam, I found Dr. Thompson in his office crying.”

Emma’s chest constricted and she struggled to keep her own tears at bay. What Clara described was unfathomable, that someone could abuse a child to the point that even veteran medical staff struggled to handle it. What kind of monster could do that?

“We cleaned her up as best as possible and treated the wounds on her hands and wrists. She didn’t stir, not even for a minute. Not until the next night when she woke up screaming. Me and one of the new nurses ran in and tried to calm her down, but it took some convincing before she stopped looking ready to bolt.”

“Did she tell you who did that to her?”

Clara shook her head. “She didn’t remember. Didn’t remember a single thing before waking up in the hospital. It was as if her mind had simply erased it all.”

“Self-preservation?”

“That’s what I think. What happened to her was so horrible her mind made it all go away. She didn’t even know her name. Had to pick one out for herself.” Clara sniffed. “Based on her bones, Dr. Thompson estimated Shaye’s age at fifteen or thereabouts. He couldn’t be certain of the year, but he was certain she was a minor. We were about to call social services when Miss Archer showed up. Detective Beaumont had served on a charity board with her and had given her a call. I all but yelled hallelujah when she took a personal interest in the case.”

“Charity board? Wait, Archer? As in Archer Manufacturing and State Senator Archer?”

“His daughter.”

Emma frowned, completely confused. “I don’t get it. What was a New Orleans socialite supposed to do? Pay her hospital bill?”

“Corrine Archer may be one of the wealthiest women in New Orleans, but she’s the salt of the earth. And the best damned social worker we have in this city.”

“Corrine the social worker is that Corrine?” Emma gasped. “Pierce Archer’s daughter? I never realized…”

“Which is a testament to the caliber of woman she is. Corrine could be sitting in a ten-thousand-dollar leather chair in a boardroom or soaking up rays in the Bahamas full time, but she chose to help children. And against her father’s wishes, I might add.”

“I’m absolutely blown away. I had lunch with her one day at a hot dog vendor outside of the hospital.” Emma shook her head, some of her faith in humanity instantly restored. If a woman of means like Corrine Archer chose to spend her time in the trenches helping children, then there might be hope for the future.

“Corrine doesn’t usually throw her weight around. She wants to be seen and treated as any other social worker, but in this case, I was hoping she’d pull out her last name and get things done.”

“Why?”

“Because it was clear that Shaye had been through a horror the rest of us couldn’t even begin to imagine. Putting her in a group home or with foster parents wouldn’t have done a bit of good. The girl needed serious medical and psychological treatment, and Corrine could afford the best of everything.”

“You’re saying she took custody of Shaye herself?”

“Yes, ma’am. Corrine had her father pull some strings, and Shaye was placed in Corrine’s custody. Corrine got her entrenched in her home, cleaned up, and spending time daily with Eleonore Blanchet.”

“I’ve always heard she’s the best.”

“You’ve heard right. Eleonore brought that girl from the brink of madness back to reality—her new reality.” Clara shook her head. “Shaye had several surgeries to correct broken bones that hadn’t been set property. It took Eleonore a year before she could get Shaye to leave Corrine’s house, except for doctors’ visits.”

“But that was only nine years ago. She seems so normal. How in the world could someone come from what you described to the woman I met today?”

“Money to hire the best of the best, time, and a spirit that couldn’t be broken. Shaye could read and knew math up to multiplication and division, so they assumed she’d received at least an elementary education. Corrine hired the best tutors she could find and they worked with her every day in Corrine’s home. Shaye grabbed right on to those books and surprised everyone with her intelligence. In three years’ time, she took the GED and started college. When she turned eighteen, the state released her and Corrine adopted her. Shaye worked for a local detective agency while she was going to college and as best I know, has never looked back.”

Emma shook her head. “That is the most incredible, awful, wonderful story I’ve ever heard. Did they catch the person who abused Shaye?”

“No. With Shaye’s memory gone, the police didn’t have much to go on.”

“I guess a child abuser isn’t likely to file a missing persons report on their victim.”

“Got that right. The police circulated her picture through all the national databases, sent it to schools and churches, and even did those commercials, but they didn’t get any hits.”

The reality of Shaye’s situation crashed into Emma like a freight train. “If Shaye has no memory of her abuser, then she has to assume that anyone she comes in contact with could be her attacker. My God. Every day is some form of nightmare.”

“I would imagine so, although she seems to have found a way to balance it out and try to live a normal life.”

“That’s why you thought she’d believe me…because of her own extraordinary story.”

“I think it’s no coincidence that Shaye became a private investigator. She doesn’t have answers for herself, and my guess is she doesn’t want anyone else to live in the shadow of darkness like she does.”

Emma took another drink of her now-lukewarm coffee, trying to fathom what a normal day was like for Shaye. For all intents and purposes, Shaye was born at age fifteen, with a lifetime of baggage and no claim ticket to tell her where it had come from. The fact that she was sane, much less accomplished, was a testament to Shaye’s strength and Corrine’s determination.

For the first time in weeks, Emma’s bleak outlook cleared just a little. If Shaye could go through all that and come out the other side not only sane, but educated, and eager to help others, then Emma had a chance of regaining her own life and sanity.

Chapter Three

The room was dark and damp. The old bricks that made up the walls were crumbling in some places and growing moss in others. She didn’t know the length of the room in feet, but she knew it was exactly thirty steps long and twenty steps wide. When it rained, water crept in where the brick met the concrete floor. If it rained hard, the entire floor was drenched. She stood as long as she could, but if it rained for too long, her weakened body couldn’t keep her upright and she eventually had to sit down. The water soaked into her clothes and made the room freezing in the winter and sticky hot in the summer.

She couldn’t remember how long she’d been in the room. Several summers and winters had passed. Maybe five. Maybe more. When you sat in the dark every day, it was hard to know how much time passed. But as bad as the room was, it was worse when he came to get her. He’d stick her with a needle and she would go to sleep, but not completely. She could remember what happened, how he bathed her and dressed her, then took her to the red room with all the candles. There were other people in the red room. People who hurt her, along with the man.