Virtually Timeless

by Casi McLean

  “That should be easy to get to you. Syd’s calling in a friend, too, Julie Crenshaw, an investigative reporter in Vancouver. Have you ever heard of her?”

  “Crenshaw… I think so… she’s the private detective with an uncanny knack for unraveling mysteries. Shoot me an email with her contact information, too.”

  “Consider it done. Between the four of us, we should be able to find out who this girl is.” He adjusted his position so he could see BW’s monitor. “Where are you located now?”

  “I’m still in Montana, Toole County near Shelby. You’re in Atlanta, right?”

  “Yes. I’d love to see you and catch up if you pass through sometime.”

  “I just might take you up on that.”

  “Hey, thanks for helping me on this. I owe you one. I’ll ask Syd for Julie’s contact info and text it to you along with a picture of my patient. Let me know where to send the DNA sample and I’ll overnight it asap.”

  “I’ll text you the address. Nice talking to you, Noah. Your case intrigues me. I look forward to contributing what I can to help.”

  When the connection ended, he turned to Syd. “I assume you heard that. We might have just caught a break.”

  A soft moan pierced his momentary optimism. Sliding off the bench seat, he gazed at his patient then checked her vitals. “Who are you, BW? What the hell caused you to forget…or block out your life?”

  Syd stepped beside him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she stared at the young woman. “Do you really think your friend, Micah, can find BW’s relatives?”

  “I do. And if Micah succeeds, I’m sure BW’s extended family can ID her.”

  Syd’s hand slipped down his arm as she lowered her gaze. “Several years ago, Julie broke an interesting story that made international news.” Syd plopped into the oversized seat next to the gurney and slouched sideways against the arm. “I don’t remember the details, but the story stuck with me about a surgeon who basically raped his patients then used a drug to wipe away their memories.”

  “That’s not only sick… it takes violating the do no harm oath to an off-the-charts level.” He glanced at his watch. “We should be landing in Atlanta soon. I arranged for an ambulance to meet us. You’re welcome to tag along, but I figured you’d want to pick up your car and get home, right?”

  Swinging her feet to the floor, Sydney stood and tucked her phone into her pocket. “Yes. But please don’t blow-off my story before you hear me out.” She yanked his upper arm, tugging him from BW toward the front of the Citation aircraft. “My point––before I was so rudely interrupted––was the physician used his expertise and position to coverup his perverted addiction.”

  “Okay, Syd. I’ll play along. How does BW fit into that story?”

  A devious grin curled the corners of Sydney’s lips. “What if BW was––or is––married… to a cop? What if she discovered her cop husband was dirty… and what if he found out she knew some detail that threatened his future? What if he tried to kill her?”

  “Hmm… I think… you’ve been watching way too many crime shows on TV.” He shook his head. Then, hearing the landing gear lower, he turned and paced toward BW.

  “Come on, Noah. Think about what we’ve been through over the last twelve hours. If there’s even the slightest chance I’m right, we’re in danger, too.” She followed him. “Regardless of what’s physically wrong with BW, someone obviously wants her dead. Someone with gun-carrying friends and a hell-of-a-lot of bullets.”

  After examining BW’s IV, Noah adjusted the drip then tightened the gurney restraint straps and checked the wheel brakes. Turning toward his sister, he drew in a long breath then whooshed it out. “I admit, you have a point…and as much as I hate what you’re saying, you have perceptive instincts.” He took a seat and motioned for Sydney to do the same. Staring out the window, he watched tiny pin-point stars glittering in the distance emerge into brilliant shining beams aligned to outline a mosaic of runways gridding the Atlanta airport.

  His thoughts drifted to a far-away runway and the search for his parents. The thought of losing more of his family to violence twisted his stomach into knots. But Syd was right. Someone clearly wanted one of them dead. He just wasn’t completely convinced the target was BW. What if the shooters’ bullets were meant for Syd… or him? He had no reason to consider he or Syd as targets, but perhaps their unexpected inheritance thrust them into this nightmare.

  Either way, someone wanted at least one of them out of the picture. A real-life hitman now lurked in the shadows, and as far as Noah could see, the best defense was a good offense. He turned toward his sister. “Syd, you’re the investigator––and a damn good one at that––so I’ll defer to you on this. Do you think your friend Julie can help track this guy? Maybe you two can catch him before he finds us? If you’re right about the husband being a cop, they can’t be far behind. Police have access to emergency calls and flight plans. There’s no limit to law enforcement’s reach, especially when they have powerful friends in high places.”

  She nodded. “I’ve got this, Noah. With Julie’s experience and my instinct, I truly believe we could nail the SOBs.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  The pilot’s microphone clicked on. “Looks like we’ll be circling Atlanta for a while, folks. Turbulent weather from the southwest caused quite a backup. Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll let you know when we get the okay to land.”

  Again, Noah’s thoughts drifted to his parents and a chill slithered up his back and prickled his skin, raising the nibs of hair on his neck. Fisting his hands, he squeezed until the feeling dissipated. The instant he acknowledged their death, Noah intentionally orchestrated his own life to unfold toward the opposite direction. To hell with free spirits. By design, he controlled everything, arranging each detail into a neat, organized framework––until he and Syd received the letter informing them of their inheritance. Now, he ached to escape as the cloak of chaos closed in.

  Chapter 13

  Feet dangling over the armrest to the empty adjacent seat, Sydney fought her heavy eyelids luring her into a deep slumber. They’d be landing soon, and sleep would have to wait a few more hours. She swung her legs around and struggled to sit up straight. Feeling a bulge in her sweatshirt, she unzipped the pocket and slid a hand inside then withdrew the intriguing amulet she’d found in the crumbling stone chamber only a few hours earlier.

  After everything they’d been through, she’d almost forgotten about the unusual piece of jewelry that had enchanted her. Tracing a finger over the strange carvings, she mused about the meaning of the curious inscription. Even in the dim overhead light, the sapphire and diamond stones sparkled, fracturing the facets so the beams swirled into an endless eternity. Who buried such a beautiful piece of jewelry behind the chamber stones…and why? Where did the trinket come from? Drawing the cuff of her sweatshirt into a fisted hand, she polished her fingerprint from the center jewel then stared in admiration for several long beats before returning the amulet to the zippered pouch. The amulet mystery would have to wait. For now, BW’s identity and finding the moonlight gunfire assailants took precedence.

  Patting the adjacent pocket, she thought about Jules. A talented reporter Syd would love to have on her own team, Julie Crenshaw worked with Detective Matthew Roy in Vancouver and the woman was an investigative genius. The last time they spoke, Jules was probing into a string of sexual abuse cases. Concerned Julie might land in the crosshairs of a serial killer, Syd promised to keep in touch. A pang of guilt washed over her for not keeping the vow. They hadn’t talked in months. Syd drew out her phone and earbuds then scrolled down her contacts to Julie’s phone number. Hopefully, she could shine some light on BW’s case. Perhaps Jules had run across a similar incident in the past or maybe she’d spark an idea Syd hadn’t thought of.

  Pressing her earbuds in place, she touched Send then leaned to the left and adjusted her position until her calves tucked close to her thighs. When the line picked up, she
heard Jules’ cheery voice.

  “Sydney, wow. I was just thinking about you and our pledge to call more often. I guess we’re both pretty busy. How are you?” Her voice came across with warm affection.

  “Slammed as usual.” Syd checked her watch. “I’m so glad I didn’t wake you.”

  Julie chuckled. “It’s been a while since my bedtime was 9:00 p.m.”

  “That’s right. The time difference… sorry.” She dropped her arm to her lap. “I’ve had a pretty long and crazy two days, Jules.”

  “Crazy good, I hope. But then, if you’re calling me at midnight your time, probably not so much. What’s up, Syd… and how can I help?”

  Her thoughts reeled over the last forty-eight hours. “Where do I start?” She pressed a thumb against her bottom lip. “My brother and I ran across an unusual case today.” Unusual barely scratched the surface. Syd had never experienced a more complicated situation. The memory loss alone set the woman apart from all other clients.

  “Your brother? The famous doctor? If your case involves him, I’m already intrigued. Tell me more.”

  Syd took a few moments to brief Jules on the case background. “Last week, we unexpectedly inherited some property, so Noah flew to north-west Connecticut to check out the estate. Walking the grounds, he ran across a young woman with no memory wandering the woods. Needless to say, Noah found the woman’s behavior extremely curious.” She leaned forward and rested an elbow on the armrest.

  “Interesting. You mean she didn’t know who she was?”

  “I mean, the girl has no memory, Jules, to the point she forgets me when she looks in the opposite direction.” How could that even happen? Syd shook her head. The sheer fact BW––in her condition––survived, roaming the mountainous forest for even one day completely baffled Sydney.

  “So, you met this girl.”

  Syd drew in a long breath then blew it out. “I did. What I find odd is, even though the girl can’t remember anything, she panics at the mention of law enforcement, especially the police.”

  “Hmm. Maybe she’s a fugitive, Syd… she could be making up the whole memory thing.”

  Syd tightened the grip on her phone. The possibility had crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it. “I have a gut feeling she’s not a criminal.” She continued, taking her friend through the chase and ultimate gunfire.

  “Oh, my Lord, how the hell did you escape…I mean I assume you all survived, right?”

  “Yes. Noah and I are a bit worse for the wear, but good… the girl caught a stray bullet, though, and lost a lot of blood. She looks bad… really bad, Jules. And I can’t help but believe someone wants her dead. Her fear of police makes me think she might be married to a dirty cop. She definitely has a tan line on her ring finger.” Syd challenged her memory for any other details she could tell her friend, but nothing struck her.

  Jules let out a low whistle. “That does sound more like a hit than a police stakeout.”

  “I’m hoping, with all your resources and connections, you can help us with the investigation.”

  “Hell, yes. Count me in.”

  After blowing out a puff of air, Syd felt her tension relax a bit. “Good.”

  “I agree with your theory. With a married victim, the first suspect is always the spouse. If her husband is a dirty cop, he could have accomplices and some hefty criminals behind him, which would explain the ambush.”

  “Luke, my assistant, ran her photo through missing persons and on the dark web. He found nothing, Jules––zero hits… as if this girl never existed… or she was erased along with her memory.” Syd tensed her jaw briefly as she conjured a what-if scenario. “If a dirty cop is involved, we can’t trust the local PD. But I trust you. Our sources don’t run as deeply as yours. If I text you her picture, will you see what you can find out?” She scrolled her phone screen to her photos and pulled up the picture she’d sent Luke.

  “Absolutely. I have access to government and top-secret files, too. Send me what you’ve got so far, and I’ll do whatever I can. A lot of shady activities are hidden under the guise of politics, classified, and government privileged data… I can’t promise I’ll find anything, but I’ll call you regardless.”

  Syd spontaneously nodded in agreement. “Thanks.”

  “Hey, I’ll be in Washington D.C. next Friday for an FBI meeting. I realize D.C. isn’t close to Atlanta, but it’s a good bit closer than Vancouver and only a two-hour flight for you. Any chance you could meet me there? I can bring whatever I find, and we can dig deeper into your case.”

  “I don’t have plans for Friday, but I should check with my brother. We obviously have a lot going on. Can I get back to you?”

  “Sure. I’d love to catch up, too. It would be great to see you.”

  “Me too. I’ll let you know as soon as possible. And thanks, Jules. We’ll talk soon.” Relieved to have her friend’s help, Syd pressed End and cast her gaze toward the rear of the aircraft where Noah sat beside BW’s gurney.

  Leaning against the headrest with his face tilted upward, and his eyes closed, he looked so relaxed, the way he was before their parents disappeared. During the search, something had changed within both Syd and her brother. Something cold and harsh that replaced the lighthearted attitude they’d harbored as children. Often, she wondered if the cynicism was a rite of passage to adulthood… or simply the stark reality of facing her own mortality.

  She watched the soft rise and fall of her brother’s chest as his breath flowed in and out. More than anything, he needed rest. She hated to wake him. But they’d be landing soon. The pilot’s voice came over the PA, robbing her of the choice to let him sleep.

  “We’ll be on the ground in a few minutes, folks.” His voice announced through the PA. “An ambulance will be waiting to take your patient to Emory.”

  “Thank you,” she softly murmured to herself. She couldn’t wait to get home and sleep in her own bed.

  Noah yawned and adjusted his position then inspected BW before fastening his seatbelt. “I guess I dozed off. Did I miss anything?”

  “Not really. I spoke to Jules. She’s in.” Syd clicked her seatbelt in place and tightened the clasp. “How’s BW?”

  He turned toward the patient. “No change.” He shrugged. “A theory occurred as I drifted off, though. As soon as we land and get her to Emory, I need her bloodwork done and a few other tests––”

  “Noah. Breathe. Any tests you want to do on BW can wait until tomorrow.” She shot a glance at her smart watch. “Check that. It already is tomorrow. Can’t you order the bloodwork and let the staff take care of her for a few hours, while you get some rest?”

  “I could use a hot shower and a little shuteye.”

  As the plane touched down and taxied toward the gate, Sydney drew in a sigh of relief. “Good. You’ll feel much better after having slept in your own bed.”

  Unfastening his seatbelt, Noah stood and looked over his shoulder before turning toward BW. “I didn’t say anything about going home. I can sleep at the hospital.”

  Syd shook her head and unlatched her seatbelt. “You’re incorrigible.” She strolled toward him. “At least promise me you’ll get someone to look at that hard head of yours.”

  “Will do… I promise.”

  When the door latch opened, a flurry of hospital attendants swarmed over Noah and his patient, leaving Syd in the dust. As she disembarked, she thought about her conversation with Jules and the one comment Syd hadn’t really considered. What if BW had both Syd and her brother completely duped? Despite the girl’s scrawny stature and convincing symptoms… What if BW was actually the criminal?

  Chapter 14

  Heavy-limbed and weary, Sydney dragged herself upstairs to her bedroom. Florescent blue numbers on her side table lit the dark room, broadcasting the time––two a.m.––as she collapsed onto the bed. So much had happened over the past twenty-four hours, she could scarcely wrap her head around the chain of events. The chronicle spun through her thoughts as sh
e drifted into a deep slumber.

  A piercing whine echoed within her dream, pulsating with unrelenting intensity until she challenged her foggy mind to muddle through the mist. With the palm of her hand, she slapped the top of the clock and forced an eyelid open a slit. Seven a.m. already? Damn. Tipping her head upward, she peered down the length of her body to her feet. Shoes still on, she verified she hadn’t moved since the moment she fell into bed. Her head plopped backward against the down comforter.

  First, a shower. Envisioning the warm water cascading over her shoulders, she forced herself to roll over then pushed off the bed, trudged into the bathroom and turned on the spray. Dropping her clothes to the floor, she stepped over them and slid inside the stall beneath the rainwater showerhead. The deluge soothed her aching muscles and, twenty minutes later, she emerged feeling recharged and almost half-human.

  Yanking on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, she shuffled through the previous day’s events, prioritizing today’s plan of action. The first of which––after fixing a cup of coffee––was to call Luke to see if he uncovered any new information about BW.

  She placed a pod into the slot, positioned her cup, flipped on the machine and pressed Brew. Snatching the creamer from the fridge, she performed her rote routine, preparing the hot beverage and taking several sips before starting the day’s agenda. “Alexa, call Luke.”

  The machine woke up in a splash of color and replied. “Calling Luke.”

  His cheery voice answered immediately. “Good morning, boss. I’m surprised you’re awake so early.”

  “You don’t know the half of it, but the backstory can wait. Any luck finding a lead?”

  “No. Even if she changed her appearance, we should have gotten a hit on facial rec… unless a plastic surgeon changed her features.”