Dr. Reeves pulled a chair closer and sat in front of her.
He gestured for security to remain near the door.
“Helen,” he said gently, “I want to explain why everyone is here. I know this must be frightening.”
Mom nodded.
“The flower on your wrist is not simply decorative.”
I stared at him.
He continued.
“It was an identification mark used approximately thirty years ago by a residential program for children called Maplewood House.”
My mother closed her eyes.
Dr. Reeves continued.
“Children who stayed in that program received the blue flower mark with guardian consent. Patricia recognized it because she volunteered there as a teenager.”
Suddenly, the entire morning made sense.
Patricia hadn’t been frightened by the tattoo.
She had recognized it.
“Maplewood House eventually closed,” Dr. Reeves said. “The administrators came under investigation for serious financial misconduct.”
He paused.
“But the larger problem involved the children’s recor
