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Officer Smith whips out a notebook and jots down what Beth said. “Has your daughter had any interaction with him?”

Beth watches me, and the realization dawns on her. Her eyes flash. “A very long time ago.”

“And what was the nature of their relationship?”

Beth flips her hand. “They had no relationship. My daughter wouldn’t be seen with the likes of him. Are you saying this man had something to do with my daughter’s disappearance?”

“He was the last person she contacted before she disappeared.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not…” She hands Beth a letter. “Our unit received this correspondence. It dated a week before she went missing.”

Beth steps forward. “My understanding is that boy died in combat. I read that in the local paper. Are you saying this isn’t the case?”

Smith and Jones glance at each other. “That is what we are trying to figure out. She’s writing to him as if he was alive. Why would she do that?”

Beth straightens her back. “Are you insinuating this man took my daughter? Because we have already found the man responsible for that.” My heart is in my throat as I watch Regina make the connection.

“And to answer your question,” Regina interferes. “My patient has had some severe psychological trauma since this letter was written. She suffers from amnesia among many other illnesses because of her condition and isolation.”

Officer Smith addresses me, ignoring Beth. “Does the name the Archer mean anything to you, ma’am?”

Beth’s eyes twitch as she, too, connects the dots. The man I hallucinated was a very real person. A boy connected to one of the Zodiac victims. Though I’m not sure if Regina has made that connection.

Beth bites her bottom lip. I’d love to see her pay her way out of this one. “Layla? Do you have anything to say?”

Officer Jones speaks this time. “It’s important we get the details right. If this man is alive, he is armed and extremely dangerous. We need to locate him. We need you to tell us everything you know about the man who abducted you, Ms. Ashby.”

I blink up at him. “His name was Toby Myers.”

“Layla, don’t do this,” Beth snaps. “Answer his question.”

Officer Smith keeps her face neutral. “We aren’t talking about Toby Myers. We need to know details about Nick Cross who also goes by the nickname, The Archer. If he meant nothing to you, why would you paint him? It seems like he’s awfully important to you.” I stare over at the canvas, no longer hiding under a sheet.

I scratch the skin under my nose and say calmly, “I wasn’t held in captivity by a man named Nick. I was alone in that bunker.” I stare at Regina, who doesn’t react. The words roll off my tongue since Regina imparted these thoughts into my mind since my rescue. She’s been relentless about it, never once believing me. Never once validating his existence. Ruthless in not allowing my mind to believe he was real. “Anyone I thought was with me, I made up in my mind. I had a relationship with Nick for years. I won’t deny that. But this picture is not a representation of my trauma from isolation, it’s a representation of my grief.”

And there lies the truth.

“This isn’t a joke,” Officer Smith says. “We are under the assumption that may not be the case.”

“Does she look like she’s joking?” Regina snaps. “I’ll send you my notes from all the psychiatric sessions I’ve had with my patient since her rescue. Read them if you don’t believe her. Or, even better, read the police records. They found no evidence that anyone was in there with this victim.”

The officers glance at each other, then at me. “We are also under the impression she isn’t necessarily a victim. Did you take the life of Mr. Gabe Williams?”

“My patient will be heading to a psychiatric hospital in due time.”

“Why isn’t she there now?” Officer Jones asks. The two of them tag-teaming questions at me.

Regina folds her arms. “My patient has not yet been charged with anything. I am her doctor. She’s under my care.”

“Regina,” Beth warns. “You need to tell the officers the truth. If you know something about this Archer, you will tell them.” Such a good actress.

Regina clicks her tongue. “I have been resolute on my diagnosis of my patient. She suffers from extreme dissociative PTSD, amnesia, and recently, psychosis. I have pages and pages of proof and analysis based on science. I am one of the most renowned trauma psychologists in my field. Are you questioning analysis, Beth?”

My mom goes ghostly white and deathly still. The two of them are just as powerful as the agents.

Officer Jones looks directly at me, ignoring the two of them. “We’re asking, young lady, if a man named Nick Cross took you. Perhaps you didn’t hallucinate the man you claimed you saw in your police records. So, I’ll ask one more time, have you seen Nick Cross?”