Dr. Sterling Fleet leaned back in his chair, the phone cradled between his shoulder and ear, his tone carrying an air of wry amusement.

“This has all the hallmarks of a perfectly executed abduction,” he said. “She’s at Kenwyne Clinic now, docile as a lamb. But I can’t share too much just yet. The girl has clearly been on a cocktail of substances—Purple Hearts, Dream Bombs, maybe even hallucinogens. It’s evident she’s been abusing drugs for quite some time. She insists she hasn’t been taking anything, but I’m skeptical, to say the least.”

He paused, listening to the voice on the other end before continuing, “Yes, you’ll need to tread carefully with her. She’s very easily agitated. There’s fear in her, or at least she’s pretending there is. I haven’t quite figured it out yet. Drug addicts can be cunning, as you know. You can’t trust everything they say. We can’t push too hard—I’d rather not scare her off entirely.”

There was another brief exchange, and Sterling Fleet elaborated. “Her psychological state is complex. From what I’ve gathered, she’s exhibited signs of a father fixation since childhood. Her feelings toward her mother seem distant at best—a somber woman who fancied herself a paragon of virtue. Frankly, her father strikes me as someone far too spirited to endure such a stifling marriage. Have you heard of a woman named Louise? That name seems to provoke a strong reaction in her. I suspect Louise might be the root of her resentment—someone who whisked her father away when she was just five years old. Children that young may not fully grasp what’s happening, but they have an instinct for assigning blame. She only reconnected with her father a few months ago.”

Fleet’s voice took on a thoughtful tone as he continued. “She’s built this idealized image of her father, convinced that she’s the apple of his eye. But then he returned with a young and glamorous new wife, shattering that illusion. It’s clearly been a profound disappointment for her. By the way, the new wife isn’t named Louise, is she? Just curious. In any case, that’s the general picture.”

The voice on the line inquired further, and Sterling Fleet chuckled lightly. “Yes, yes, I’m giving you a rough outline here.”

A brief silence followed, then Fleet resumed. “Oh, here’s an interesting tidbit you might find alarming: she tried to kill herself. Surprised? It wasn’t your clichéd overdose on aspirin or sticking her head in an oven. No, she ran straight into the path of an oncoming Jaguar, full speed. If I hadn’t pulled her back in time, well…”

Fleet paused, gauging the reaction on the other end of the line, then pressed on. “She claims it was an impulsive act, admits she ‘wanted to end it all.’ But I’m not entirely convinced she has genuine suicidal tendencies. There are too many variables at play. Perhaps she was disoriented from the drugs, or maybe she’s playing some kind of game—testing herself or even testing us. If she’s faking it, I’ll say this: the girl is a superb actress. Still, her story has cracks, moments of inconsistency. It’s hard to tell if she’s a truly troubled individual on the brink or a remarkably clever manipulator.”

Fleet’s voice slowed as he added thoughtfully, “There’s one other possibility: what if running into traffic wasn’t an attempt to end her life? What if that Jaguar was genuinely trying to run her down? It sounds absurd, I know, but it can’t be entirely ruled out.”

He let the idea linger in the air before concluding, “Things remain murky. But I’m gaining her trust bit by bit, and that’s key. I can’t rush this; pressing her too hard might make her suspicious. Eventually, she’ll reveal more. If there’s genuine mental instability, she’ll confide in me. If she’s faking, she’ll slip up—it’s only a matter of time.”

The voice on the line proposed an idea, and Fleet nodded. “Yes, having someone keep an eye on her—a person she doesn’t recognize—would be wise. Even though Kenwyne Clinic is secure, it’s better to err on the side of caution. Surveillance will ensure she doesn’t attempt to escape.”

After ending the call, Fleet leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the window as he processed the conversation. The puzzle surrounding Norma Restarick was far from solved, but each piece brought him closer to uncovering the truth.