Layla’s head flung back as she gasped with pleasure.
Chapter 36
It was Sunday, the day after the party. Layla was relaxing on the sofa, smirking as she thought about the Christmas parties from Saturday. They had all been at Katelyn’s house for the rest of the evening. The thought of her panties in Alec’s pocket all night had made her hot and excited. At one point in the evening, she had looked over at him, and he gave her a lightning-flash wink, and his hand roamed around in his pocket.
Damien had made the party. He had only been gone for an hour. Luckily, the fallen patient had regained use of his legs. Damien had said that his nervous system was in a state of shock and needed time to come out of it. This afternoon, he had gone to the country club to play a game of golf with Corey Smith. Keisha was walking around with her play shopping cart acting like she was shopping.
Someone rang the doorbell.
Layla went to answer the door. It was Lacey.
“Hey, Lacey,” she happily greeted. “How are you?”
“Left out,” she replied sourly. “That’s how I am.”
“Huh?”
“Layla, what is going on with you? For the past few weeks, you’ve changed your hairstyle, clothes, and you’ve become quite adept with guns almost . . . well, out of nowhere.”
“Lacey–”
“And I know you well enough to know that you knew Margo’s date” she said as she made the quotation sign with her hands. “And whatever is going on, Margo is in on it.”
“Okay, okay,” Layla said. “Let’s go on the back patio.”
Ten minutes later, Layla gave Lacey an iced tea and brought Keisha into the backyard so she could play on the swing set.
Layla sat down and sipped her tea.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have come over here loaded for bear. I’m sorry. I got pissed that Margo knew something I didn’t about you, and we’re supposed to be best friends.”
Layla nodded. She trusted Lacey, but the fewer people who knew about her business, the better. However, since it was Lacey, one more person wouldn’t hurt. “I understand, and I wasn’t trying to shut you out. It’s just that I’m in a precarious . . . situation right now.”
“What’s going on?” Lacey asked with concern.
“It’s best that I start from the very beginning. It all started when I decided to see a psychiatrist.”
For the next thirty minutes, Layla spilled everything that had happen in her life up until that point to a slack-jawed Lacey. When Layla got stunned silence when she was finished, she got nervous. “Lacey, you can’t tell Damien any of this.”
“No . . . I won’t, it’s just . . . wow. How self-involved am I to miss all this?”
“You didn’t. You confronted me,” she remarked with a crooked smile.
“Finally,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before? I could have helped. I could have . . . I don’t know . . . driven you to some appointments.”
“I didn’t want to bother you. You had your own life.”
“But Izabella doesn’t? Either you didn’t trust me, or you didn’t think I could handle it.”
Layla swallowed. “I wasn’t sure if you could handle it,” she admitted.
Lacey blew out. “I guess I can’t blame you for feeling that way. I freak out when Corey has a cold. But this is different. From here on out, I’m here for you.”
“Thanks,” Layla said with a small smile.
Lacey sipped her tea. “So, you’re really going to leave Damien for this guy?”
“Yes, after the New Year. I’m going to tell him.”
“Wow. I’m going to miss you around here.”
“My address will change, not my friends. Well, my real friends,” Layla said. She knew that the hoity-toity of Tampa weren’t going to give the time of day to the girlfriend of an FBI field agent. It was fine with her as long as she and Alec were together.
Keisha ran around the swing set. Then she got back on the swing.
Layla could hear the landline ringing inside. “I’ll be back. Can you–”
“Make sure Keisha doesn’t get in the pool,” Lacey completed for her.
“Yeah, thanks,” Layla said and quickly went inside. She grabbed the wall phone on the end of the third ring.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hello,” the voice recording said. “This is Tampa Bay Storage calling for Damien Miles. Your payment of eight-seven dollars for storage unit one-two-four is overdue. Please pay the overdue balance before December thirty-first. Our office is open from Monday to Friday eight a.m. to five p.m. and Saturdays from nine a.m. to one p.m. Or you can pay online at www—” Layla hung up. She wrote down the storage unit number and the dollar amount on a magnetic notepad on the refrigerator. She tore the note off the pad.
Why would Damien need a storage unit? We’ve got plenty of storage space in the basement. Layla slowly walked back outside.
“Hey, is everything okay?” Lacey asked.
“I’m not sure,” Layla answered slowly.
“It wasn’t that man was it? Um . . . Cartel?’
“Carter, and no,” Layla answered and sat back down in the white patio chair with light orange cushions. “That was a recording from a place called Tampa Bay Storage. It said that Damien didn’t make his payment last month, and it’s overdue.”
“So?”
“So, what does he need with a storage unit?”
“You didn’t know about it?”
“No, which is strange because I’m the one who takes care of all the household bills and Damien’s personal bills because he forgets to pay them. I’ll just ask him about it when he gets home.”
“Um, I wouldn’t do that just yet if I were you. If you don’t mind me saying,” Lacey said carefully.
“Why?”
“Taking into consideration what you just told me, he might be hiding something that you need to know. I’m not saying it’s a malicious something, but it could be items that would help you remember more things from your past. You think he lied about your history because he was trying to protect you from someone or something.”
Layla considered what her friend said. “I don’t know. Maybe. Or it could be medical supplies and equipment for his practice.”
“I would make sure before you tell him you know about it.”
“Hmm. I don’t want to go behind his back and snoop in his personal things. He doesn’t nose around in my drawers.”
“Yeah, but you are already going behind his back concerning Alec,” she countered.
“That’s different.”
“Layla, this is your life we’re talking about. If I’m wrong, okay, no big deal. But if I’m right . . . it could help you a lot.”
She leaned back in the chair. “Even if I’m willing to do this, how are we going to look in it? There’s probably a lock on it.”
“Have you noticed Damien carrying keys that you don’t know what they go to?”
“No – wait. I pulled a set of keys out of his pocket a while back while I was doing laundry. I didn’t know what they went to, and I did ask him about it.”
“What did he say?”
“He said that one set was to his locker at the hospital, and the other set were spare keys to his office desk. Now that I really think about it, I wondered if he was lying then because he stuttered a bit. He never stutters unless he’s nervous.”
“I bet you they go to that storage unit. Where are the keys now?”
“If they’re not in his office upstairs, they’re at his medical office.”
“We need to look for them while he’s gone,” Lacey said and stood.
“Wait a minute. What if we’re wrong?”
“If we’re wrong, no big deal. We’ll put the keys back, and he’ll never know.”
“Unless the storage facility calls again and ask about the overdue bill,” Layla countered with worry.
“Go there tomorrow morning and pay it. He won’t know. He forgot about it anyway.�
�
Layla thought hard. Lacey could have a point. If anything, it would satisfy her curiosity as to why Damien had a storage locker in the first place.
Chapter 37
Layla and Lacey searched Damien’s office upstairs while Keisha was playing in her room. Layla found the mysterious keys in second drawer of his desk.
They decided to go to the storage facility Monday morning, after their husbands had gone to work. Layla called Izabella at home and asked if she could come to work at eight instead of nine. She was happy to come in an hour early.
They were at Tampa Bay Storage’s office. They patiently waited for the first customer to finish his business. He paid his fee and got out of line.
“Hi, I’m here to pay the overdue balance on unit one-two-four. Damien Miles,” Layla told the clerk.
“I’ll look it up,” the female clerk said. She typed in the computer. “Yes, there is a balance due of eighty-seven dollars.”
“I can pay that in cash,” Layla said and took her wallet out of her purse.
“Would you like to pay for this month while you’re here?” the clerk asked.
Layla thought for a moment. Just in case the keys they had didn’t fit the lock on the unit, paying for that month would buy her time to find the real set. Damien wouldn’t know. If he remembered to pay for that month, it would just go on next month, and he wouldn’t be the wiser. “Yes, I would.”
Layla paid the clerk and got a receipt. “Can you tell me where the unit is located on the property? And how long we have rented the unit?” She wasn’t sure if the clerk would tell her, but the clerk looked down at the screen.
“It says here that the unit was rented a year ago. It’s located on the east side, row five.”
“Thank you,” Layla said. She and Lacey hurried out of there. It was almost nine already. They wanted enough time to search the unit thoroughly.
Five minutes later, Layla parked her BMW outside of unit one-two-four. They got out of the car and walked to the garage-like door.
“It doesn’t look like a very big unit,” Lacey commented.
Layla fumbled with the keys. She had been nervous all day yesterday with fear that Damien would notice them missing from his home office, but he hadn’t.
“It looks like the big key would fit that lock,” Lacey said.
Layla put the key into the lock and turned it. The latch unlocked immediately. “Well, I’ll be damned.” She unhooked the lock from the latch.
Lacey helped her lift the door up on the rolling hinges.
Three folding tables were set up with boxes on all of them. Two Louis Vuitton suitcases and a carry-on were also on one of the tables. There was a wooden chair on wheels in the corner.
“Well, it’s a good thing we got time to burn,” Lacey said. “I’ll take the suitcases and you start with the boxes.”
“Of course you give me the dirty job,” Layla said.
“Hey, it’s your husband,” Lacey said with a shrug and stepped up into the unit.
Layla followed and opened the file box that was closest to the door.
“There’s a white fur in one of these suitcases,” Lacey announced with excitement. “It looks a little worse for the wear though.”
Layla looked over to see Lacey fingering the fur. “That’s odd. Why would he have a fur coat?”
Lacey shrugged. “The other suitcase and the carry-on are empty.”
“Maybe there are clues to explain the coat. Start with the boxes on your side.” Layla continued to dig through her box.
There were medical journals. Some of them had bookmarks in them. Layla turned one journal to a bookmarked page. The article was by Damien. She knew he had written a few articles for medical journals and magazines. She had asked to read them a few years ago, but he wouldn’t let her. He was too shy. Then again, he probably thought she wouldn’t be able to understand them. Most of what she skimmed looked like medical gibberish to her.
She opened another journal with a bookmark. In that article, he had written about an experimental drug called Memrose. He had developed it with a former colleague who was a neurosurgeon as well. It was a drug that could be used to erase the memory of prisoners of war. After years of testing and adjusting, Memrose was successful in wiping the memories of prisoners of war as far back as a year. They would have no memory of where they were held and what they were asked or what they had told the enemy before being released.
“Oh my God!”
“What!” Layla shouted as she whirled around.
“Look at these clothes! Donna Karen, Vera Wang . . . there is even Couture in here!”
“Jesus! I thought you found a smoking gun or something!” Layla yelled with annoyance.
“In a way, I have. Have you ever suspected that Damien had a mistress?”
“What! No! And if he did at one point, he doesn’t anymore. I’ve told you what our sex life was like.”
“Well, unless he’s an undercover crossdresser, something is going on. There are enough clothes in here to . . . fill two suitcases,” she said with realization.
Layla dropped the journal in the box and walked toward Lacey.
Lacey was examining the suitcases again as Layla examined the clothes. She picked up a satin, black robe. White light flashed before her eyes. She had worn the robe before — at the safe house that the FBI had placed her in. She was in a bedroom. Alec was in the room, too. They were talking. The memory went away. Layla quickly dug through the rest of the clothes, giving them a quick examination. One by one, she remembered wearing the articles of clothing before. Her mouth dropped open.
“What is it?” Lacey asked.
“This is my shit!” Layla announced with shock.
“What?”
“Before my accident. These are my clothes. I had packed them . . . when I left Carter.”
“Didn’t you say that your birth name was Murphy?” Lacey asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, it makes sense. One of the tags on the suitcases says L. Murphy.”
Layla dropped the clothes in her hand and took the tag out of Lacey’s hand. Sure enough, it said L. Murphy. It had a phone number and the city and state was New York. “Oh my god. Why does Damien have my old clothes? Why would he hold on to them?”
“Maybe he thought you’d get your memory back one day, and you would want them,” Lacey hypothesized.
“Maybe,” Layla mumbled.
I’m packing my jewelry, too. First, their mine. Second, if I need cash, I can pawn them.
She gasped at the sound of her voice playing in her head. “Did you find any jewelry?”
“Not yet, but I can smell it,” Lacey said.
“What?”
“I can smell diamonds. You know I have a nose for jewelry.”
Layla rolled her eyes. She should have known Lacey would make this about her. But that’s who Lacey was. “Okay, where do you smell them in here?”
“I’d say the box next to the last one with the clothes.”
For chance’s sake, Layla lifted the lid off the box Lacey had indicated. There was a Louis Vuitton purse on top. She pulled it out. As soon as she touched it, memories flooded back of her grabbing the purse and putting it on her shoulder on various occasions.
“When you get that far-off look, I take it that’s when you have a memory?”
“Yeah,” Layla said and put the purse on the table. She pulled out a plastic Ziploc bag with what looked like folds of black fabric inside.
“What’s that?”
“I have no idea,” she replied and handed the bag to Lacey. At the bottom was a wooden box. She lifted it out. It felt heavy, and there was a small lock on it.
“See? I told you,” Lacey said as she proudly held up a tennis bracelet.
Layla placed the box down and walked over to Lacey. They opened the small, felt, black cloths one by one, discovering diamond earrings, bracelets, necklaces, and rings. There was also a ruby and emerald necklace, gold rings, and various kin
ds of earrings that weren’t diamonds.
“This stuff has to be yours,” Lacey stated.
“It is. I remembered wanting to take them,” Layla said. She walked back to the box she was at before. She noticed there was a Louis Vuitton wallet at the bottom of it. She picked it up and opened it.
Lacey was packing the jewelry back up with care. “You should take these with you when we leave. They are yours.”
Layla didn’t say anything as she looked through the wallet. The first thing that caught her eye was the New York driver’s license. It was her picture, but the name said Lana Murphy, and it had a New York City address. She continued to search the wallet. There was an American Express card, Visa card, and a Discover card in it. There was also a Social Security card with her name on it, a checkbook, and a debit card. No cash or change.
“What did you find?” Lacey asked as she approached her.
She handed her the wallet without saying a word.
“Wow. So, do you think you gave Damien this stuff for safe keeping and then got into the car accident?”
“I don’t know. Alec just told me what the bureau hypothesized happened to me that night I disappeared, but they weren’t exactly sure about everything with the exception of who shot who at the safe house.”
They started digging into the rest of the boxes. They found loads of Damien’s personal medical diaries. He had started keeping them during his residency. That’s when he and a Dr. Rosanne Quinn met and developed the idea of a drug that could wipe away an enemy captor’s memory. Dr. Quinn had multiple family members in the Marines and Army. Her reasoning was that the U.S. military could do what was necessary to get need-to-know information from prisoners of war and then release them with no memory of what happened after they got captured. Damien had agreed because he wanted to contribute something to help the country.
“This is sick,” Lacey said. “They could be doing anything to those people.”
“According to these, they had trouble getting permission to start human trials. Yet, at the same time, they couldn’t submit the information needed to get the okay because they needed to try it on someone first,” Layla said as they continued to comb through the pages.
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