Virtually Timeless

by Casi McLean

  “Hmm. I suppose surgery is possible.” Syd set her cup on the table then popped an English muffin into the toaster. “What if she was wiped from the data system intentionally? Could a detective have enough connections to make that happen?”

  “A cop? Maybe. If the officer is on the take and she has the goods on him, but why go to the trouble when the guy could just take her out?”

  “Geez, Luke. You sound like you just stepped out of an old Dirty Harry movie.”

  He chuckled. “This girl has you wound up, Syd. I was just adding some humor into the mix.”

  “You’re right…and you do have a point. No sense in speculating. There’s just something weird about this case, something I can’t put my finger on.” She spread a pat of butter on her muffin.

  “How can I help?”

  “You’re helping already. Which reminds me, did you take care of the rental car and call someone to check out the property?”

  “Done. Both are in the works as we speak.”

  “Good. Thanks.” Taking a bite, she strolled toward the kitchen nook bay window and peered outside. “Noah has a friend searching with some kind of reverse DNA technology. One way or the other, she’ll uncover her secrets. I just hope we learn her identity soon.” Syd wandered back into the kitchen and took a few more swigs of coffee. Then, cup in hand, she leaned against the counter. “Someone out there sure wants her out of the picture.”

  “I don’t know about a cop’s ability to erase someone’s identity, but if a dirty cop is involved, he’ll track you here in no time, which puts all of us in danger.”

  At the thought of someone lurking in the shadows, a swirl of bile caught in her throat. Swallowing hard she considered what he just said. “That’s it …” She pushed off the counter and dashed into her bedroom. Yelling back to her echo, she praised her assistant. “Luke, you are brilliant.”

  “I’ve been telling you that for a while now.” He sniped.

  She slipped into her Nikes and sat on the edge of the bed to tie the laces. “And rightly so. Your comments have a way of jolting my thoughts outside the box.”

  “What brilliant discovery did I trigger this time?” He snickered.

  “What if our mystery woman is in witness protection?”

  “She’d literally be erased.”

  “And if somehow her new ID was breached––”

  “She’d be in imminent danger.”

  “Bingo. My college girlfriend, Julie, has contacts in high places. I wonder if she could breach the witness protection program. I’ll call her and––” Leaning her hands against the bed, she pressed a palm on her jacket pocket…and the amulet. “Better yet, I’ll text you her info. I want you to send her everything we have so far… tell her my theory and ask her to sniff around. Oh, and tell her Noah contacted Micah Miller, a genetic guru of some kind, and Micah will be forwarding whatever she discovers to Julie as well.”

  “Will do. Are you heading to the office now, or do you need to check in with Noah and the girl first?”

  Sydney unzipped her jacket and drew out the beautiful gemstone. Staring at the craftsmanship, she continued. “You said all our cases are up to speed, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’ve got a few errands to run before I go to the hospital. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

  “Ten-four, boss. Consider it done.”

  “Thanks, Luke. I’ll see you later.” She pressed End, still examining the amulet.

  Clay…Clayton…what was his name? The man was one of her dad’s best friends and very involved with the Peach State Archaeological Society. In fact, Clay encouraged her parents to join Doctors Without Borders. Trent… that’s it. Clayton Trent. Sydney grabbed her smartphone and Googled the name to find he now held the office of Vice President of the company. Perfect. His name, address, and phone number were posted just below his picture. Would he remember her? Probably. But he’d definitely remember her parents. Clayton Trent would likely know more about her amulet. With any luck, he could date the artifact and tell her what it was.

  She highlighted the phone number then clicked to connect and was thrilled when a man answered.

  “Clayton Trent. How can I help you?”

  Syd cleared her throat. “Mr. Trent, you might not remember me, but my name is Sydney Monaco… I’m Joe Monaco’s daughter.”

  “Of course, I remember you, Sydney. How are you and Noah doing? It’s been a while.”

  “We’re good. Thanks for asking.”

  “How can I help you, dear?”

  She curled into her favorite chair and explained the details behind her discovery. “Do you think you could take a look at the artifact? I’m hoping you can fill in the blanks. Like how old the piece is and the history behind it.”

  “You’ve really sparked my interest. I lived in Connecticut for several years and I’m very familiar with all the old stone chambers. Theories exist, but no one truly knows what they were used for. The odd thing is, archeologists found most of the structures in Massachusetts… some in Putnam County, New York, and Windsor County, Vermont.”

  She bit the tip of her fingernail. “You don’t know of any in the area I described?”

  “I didn’t say that.” He cleared his throat and shuffled some papers. “If memory serves me, Connecticut claims quite a few structures, mostly around New London County, which is the exact opposite corner of the state from your property. New Hampshire lists fifty-one, Rhode Island has twelve, and Maine touts four. I say this because most structures cropped up much farther east of your land.”

  Her stomach tightened. “So, do you think my chamber is a fake?”

  “Not at all. I’ve visited every one of the known New England structures, and I’ve never heard tell of any in your area. But that doesn’t mean your chamber or the artifact you found aren’t genuine. And a find like that could be priceless.”

  His comment still had her second-guessing her discovery. Perhaps the piece was fake… or some cheap imitation of an ancient artifact… then again… the word priceless lingered in her thoughts. “I know you must be incredibly busy, but could you possibly take a look at my amulet… today?”

  Chapter 15

  “She’s coding. Get a crash cart. Starting compressions.”

  The vibrating rumble of the caster wheels scudding across the hospital floor alerted Noah. He jerked and rubbed a hand over his face.

  “Get the pads…continue CPR and start ventilations.”

  Noah sprang from the cot into the hallway in a single leap and shot toward BW before he realized the code occurred in an adjacent room. Sliding inside, he closed the door behind him, muting the hospital activity. A stream of sunlight shone through the venetian blinds, casting a soft glow on her features. Was it wishful thinking…or had her ashen face brightened with just a tinge of pink since he began her treatment?

  Approaching her bedside, he inspected the tubes pumping life into her veins. If his Korsakoff’s Syndrome theory proved accurate, she should respond fairly quickly. Her symptoms presented as non-alcoholic KS, profound global amnesia, cognitive and behavioral dysfunction, and having no idea what her name is, when asked, she replies with the name of something within her sight like a brook, a willow or a hollow. Subtle clues convinced Noah to test for KS. The crucial thiamine deficiency factor couldn’t be verified until he got her back to civilization.

  Turning toward her, he caught a glimpse of the wall clock. Ten eighteen a.m., approximately eight hours into treatment.

  He wanted her to wake up, but her frail condition, complicated by the gunshot wound, gave him no choice but to put her into a medical coma. Her immune system was shot. How long had she wandered in the backwoods of Connecticut? Where had she come from? Who wanted her dead? And why could they find no trace of her anywhere on the Internet? So many questions. “What is your story, BW?”

  “I’d like to know that myself.”

  Hearing his sister’s voice, Noah turned toward the door.

  �
�Any news?” She approached the bed. “By the way, I noticed the name on the door. Good idea, registering her as Willow Brooks. If you hadn’t given me the room number, I wouldn’t have found her.”

  He eyed her, a bit jealous of her fresh clothes and rested appearance. “We don’t even know her real name, Syd.”

  “Good point.”

  “Besides, I sure as hell didn’t want to list her as Jane Doe. That would have raised unnecessary attention. A fake name might buy us a little time, but not much. Did you notice I’m not listed as attending physician?”

  “No, but that’s smart. At least until I can find out who she is.” Syd gazed at BW. “She still looks awful.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. My theory had her pegged for a rare disease called Korsakoff’s Syndrome. Severe malnutrition and extremely low levels of thiamine typically present with a global loss of memory. But her condition indicates more, and I won’t know if the treatment is working unless I bring her out of the coma.”

  “Then do it.” She shot him a frown.

  “Waking her isn’t that easy. She lost a lot of blood.”

  Syd ran a finger over BW’s lower arm then softly grasped her hand. “She’s so cold.

  “Her injury combined with malnourishment, dehydration, and exhaustion compromised her immunity. It’s a miracle she could function at all.” He examined her vitals on the bedside screen. “Putting her into a medical coma gives her the best chance of survival. I can’t risk waking her until she shows some signs of improvement.”

  “I get that, but why do you need to wake her to see if your treatment worked? Can’t you tell by all those tubes and displays?”

  “From the monitors, I can tell if her physical condition has improved.” He smoothed away a strand of hair from her forehead then bent a finger and grazed it over her cheek. “But I need her awake to see if she regained her memory.” Turning toward his sister, he motioned for her to follow him into the hallway then closed the door behind them. “Have you turned up a worthwhile lead?”

  Syd shook her head. “Not yet. But I have a lot of fingers in the pot. A trace must exist somewhere… and I’ll find it.” She eyed him head to toe. “You look pretty ragged. Did you manage any rest at all?”

  He shrugged. “I crashed for a few hours in the on-call room and will hit the locker room showers after I check on BW.” Thankful he kept scrubs and a lab coat at the hospital, he looked forward to standing under a hot stream of water. Without a doubt, the last forty-eight hours ranked as one of––if not the––most insane two days of his life. He longed for the predictability of his normal routine.

  “Good. I have an appointment this afternoon with an old friend of Dad’s, but other than that I should be available.” She clutched his upper arm. “Call me if something changes…or if you need anything. And remember, you’ve been through a lot, too. Try to get some real rest... in a bed… preferably at home.”

  “Will do, Mom.” He chuckled. “I hear you. Don’t worry about me. Just find out who the hell that girl is.”

  “That’s the plan.” She turned toward the elevators then threw a glance over her shoulder. “I’ll probably drop by this evening to see how she’s doing.”

  A moment later, she disappeared around the corner, leaving Noah to his thoughts. Again, he strolled into BW’s room and, after one last examination, headed downstairs toward the locker room. The aroma of hot food from the cafeteria wafted his way, and he decided to reprioritize his agenda, making a pitstop to grab some food. Deep in thought, he snatched a plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans, paid the cashier then sat at a corner table.

  The previous two days reeling through his mind, he challenged himself to remember details about BW. From the first moment he saw her until she lost consciousness… how she reacted to each stimulus… exactly what she said and did. When he asked her name, he’d noticed her confused expression and her vacant stare fixated on the stream. After a long pause, she replied ‘Brooke,’ as if the water supplied her answer. She probably was staring at a willow tree when she told Sydney her name was Willow.

  If the girl had been lost for whatever reason, wandering through the dense Connecticut forests with scarce to no food, malnourishment could have depleted her thiamine in no time. Confusion would set in quickly, especially if her body mass had little fat reserve to begin with. And drinking water from streams or falls might have kept her minimally hydrated, but the bacteria found in stream water could present a whole new can of worms he dreaded testing for. Considering her condition and responses gave him little doubt the girl suffered from Korsakoff’s Syndrome. With any luck, his treatment would bring back her memory.

  But the gunshot wound made a bad situation so much worse. By the time they set up the IV, she had already gone into hypovolemic shock. The loss of blood on top of her weakened state landed her in grave condition.

  Did finding out who she was warrant waking her from the induced coma? Possibly, if the girl’s very presence at Emory caused danger to her, the other patients, or the staff. He’d already sent BW’s DNA to Micah, but once she received the sample, the process took time. Damn. If someone wanted BW dead, time is the one commodity they didn’t have. Hopefully, Syd would come up with an ID. She certainly had the resources.

  After shoveling the last few bites of meat and potatoes into his mouth, he stood, grabbed his tray, and deposited it onto the passthrough to the kitchen. Thoughts still spinning, he wandered toward the locker room.

  He couldn’t put his finger on the reason, but something about BW intrigued him…beyond the challenge to discover her illness. Her tenacity… courage to keep going despite her condition… her sheer will to survive? Under normal circumstances, Noah rarely thought about his patients––aside from clinical analysis. Why did this young woman have a vice grip on his thoughts?

  His heart quickened at the memory of the first time her gaze met his. The desperation splashed over her face…the tiny smear of blood smudged on her bare white shoulder…the crackle in her voice the first time he heard her speak. Good Lord. He stopped next to his locker. The idea darted through his thoughts faster than he could dismiss it. Could he have a crush on this patient?

  Chapter 16

  Feet perched on the footrest of a tall bar chair, Sydney’s knee bobbed anxiously while she watched Clayton Trent inspect the amulet through what he called an eye loupe microscope. She felt like a child on Christmas morning, anticipating the contents of each carefully wrapped gift tucked beneath the tree. Forgotten memories of this man her parents referred to as Uncle Clay now surfaced and drifted through her thoughts. She’d giggled with pleasure when he bounced her on his knee singing gallop-ta-trot. And how she adored the pink princess balloons he brought to her fifth birthday.

  Older now, with smile lines crinkling the corners of his eyes, Clayton Trent still kept a healthy physique, and the gray strands mingling through his dark hair made him look more distinguished than old.

  “Hmm.”

  He reminded Syd of a doctor examining a patient.

  “I need a better look at this design.” Still sitting, Clay rolled his chair across the floor to another instrument. “This adjustable arm has a high intensity light attached underneath the magnifying glass.” He rotated and angled the amulet to examine the intricate details. “Hmm. Clearly, this knot design is Celtic, and I’d swear the piece is authentic. No start or finish.” He raised his gaze to meet Syd’s. “The endless ring symbolized a connection between life and eternity.” He turned over the artifact and stared at the stone. “What’s so remarkable is the flawless condition of the piece. Reminiscent of Hallstatt. And the unusual metal is curious.”

  Interested to observe what he saw, Syd stood and approached the examination table. “Unusual metal? How can metal be unusual? I’m not sure what you’re saying, Mr. Trent.”

  “Please, call me Clay, dear.” He lifted his gaze until it met hers. “I’ve known you since you were a toddler.”

  “Right. Clay.” She offered him
a soft smile. “So, you think my amulet is authentic?”

  Refocusing on the artifact, he chuckled. “I see nothing that would suggest otherwise. The piece is flawless. But therein lies the problem.”

  “You mean it should look old?” She edged closer and peered over his shoulder through the magnifying glass. “And what is Hallstatt?”

  “Not what, dear. Where.” Again, he faced Sydney. “The Celts originated 3,000 years ago in the middle of the European Alps in an area called Hallstatt near a shallow sea. The Celts mined the salt from the sea. Recently, archaeologists discovered perfectly preserved remains of over 1,500 people along with countless artifacts inside some massive sealed salt mines.” He placed the amulet into her hand. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say your treasure was part of the Hallstatt discovery. But how did the artifact find its way to Connecticut, buried inside an ancient stone structure? The facts don’t add up.”

  She stared at the stone. “When I fell against the wall, some old rocks fell away and this dropped at my feet.”

  “It seems as if we have more questions now than answers. If you’ll entrust your find to me, I’d like to have your relic examined by a colleague.”

  His request sent a chill down her arms as if a sudden cool breeze passed by. “I trust you. But I can’t shake the feeling I need to hold onto this trinket. Could we visit your associate together?”

  He nodded. “Of course. I can arrange that.” He rubbed his chin. “I know this might seem odd, but would you consider taking a day trip to Connecticut so I can join you and see your stone chamber?”

  Unsure why she felt compelled to keep the amulet in her possession, she pondered his request. Surely, she could trust the man. He’d been a family friend for her entire life. Besides, it wasn’t as if he called her out of the blue, wanting to whisk her out of state. She had called him. “I don’t see why not…except I’m not sure I could find the place again. I ran across the chamber when I was searching for Noah. We can try, though.”