An hour passed as they continued to look through the diaries.
“Hey,” Lacey said. “Looks like things between Damien and Quinn got romantic, but it didn’t work out.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, it says here that the partnership was dissolved because Dr. Quinn chose to . . . research something else with a friend and former colleague, Dr. Frank M. Cash,” Lacey said and handed the book to Layla. “Start ten pages back and work up to where I stopped.”
Lacey picked up another diary and started reading it while Layla checked out what she had learned. She was flabbergasted that Damien was engaged to someone before her, and he had never told her. Dr. Quinn had abandoned Damien and their research when he had caught her having sex with his best friend from medical school.
Perhaps it was too painful to mention. That is a harsh betrayal.
According to the diary, the research on the drug had slowed down, but he hadn’t completely given up on it. It was more like a hobby if he had time for it.
Layla was getting hungry. She looked at her watch. It was eleven thirty-five. If she knew they would be out there all morning, she would have packed lunch.
“Oh my God,” Lacey whispered.
Layla looked over at her. Lacey’s hands were practically trembling as they held a brown diary.
“What’s wrong?”
“I . . . I . . . I . . . You should read this for yourself,” Lacey stuttered nervously.
Layla took the book out of her hand and sat down in the wooden chair.
“Flip it back about five pages,” Lacey said.
She did and started reading. The entry was dated four years ago. Damien had gotten more personal in this entry. It was like professional and personal rolled into one.
“The New York Neurology Conference was good, and they seemed somewhat receptive to the idea of Memrose. However, after my presentation, they asked about an antidote. I hadn’t even considered that since I can’t get approval to go into human trials. I couldn’t get the information the association wanted to start human trials without trying the drug out on a live person. I have been hoping for almost a year to find a way to get the information the association needed to start legal human trials for Memrose, and it fell into my lap. I had another few weeks of break, so I decided to stay in New York and take in the sites — a break, so to speak. I was driving around in my rental car outside of the city limits and saw two sets of headlights. When I got closer, I saw one of the cars drive off. It seemed like they were in a hurry. The other car had crashed against a tree in the snow. I pulled over and got out. There was a woman in the car. The airbag had deployed, and she was dazed but not unconscious. I asked if she was all right. She said, ‘Help me.’ I got out my cell phone to call an ambulance and then she wailed and cried for me not to. She said it wasn’t safe — that bad people would find her if I called 911. So, I helped her out of the car myself. She couldn’t stand. Her leg was in bad shape, so I carried her to my car. She had mumbled that she had things in the trunk and needed them. I popped the trunk and quickly retrieved her suitcases and put them in my car.” Layla stopped. “Lacey, you don’t think—”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is what is written in black and white. Keep reading,” she said in a serious tone that Layla had never heard Lacey use before.
Layla cleared her throat and continued. “She said that it wasn’t safe for her to go to a hospital in the city. I assured her that I knew about a clinic a few miles outside of New York. She nodded and passed out. That’s when I searched her pocketbook. There were no family photos or anything to indicate a next of kin to contact. When I looked back up at her, she was still out. I started my car and headed to the clinic. As I drove, I realized that no one would miss her if she was to disappear for a while. It was obvious that she was trying to disappear anyway. That she was running from someone who would hurt her. I pulled over at a gas station that was closed. It was a few miles outside of the clinic. That’s when I did something that would change my life . . . and this woman’s forever. I pulled my medical bag out the back seat and took out one of the three vials of Memrose. I stuck her with it before I changed my mind.” Oh God!” Layla looked up at Lacey.
Lacey’s arms were folded as she leaned against the table. “That bastard stuck you with that crap! That’s why you can’t remember your own life!”
“No! It’s too . . . sadistic. It . . . Carter might do something like this, but—”
“Is that diary written in Damien’s handwriting, or not?”
“Yes,” Layla admitted. She felt like she was going to faint. How could he do such a vile thing? She pressed her first two fingers between her eyebrows, willing what she had learned to go away. He was Keisha’s father. According to the doctors at the clinic, she was pregnant at the time she had the accident. How could he put his own child – Layla’s eyes widened as she looked up with horror. “There’s no way Damien is Keisha’s father!”
“What! Wait? What?” Lacey babbled with bewilderment.
“If I’m the woman that Damien talked about in these pages, then we didn’t meet until that night of my car accident. When I woke up, the doctor told me I was about four to five weeks pregnant, and I was lucky I didn’t miscarry. There’s no way he’s Keisha’s biological father.”
“I understand,” Lacey groaned. “It’s all there. He was mortified when the ER team discovered you were pregnant. He had hoped that he didn’t kill your baby. My question is, who is Keisha’s father?”
Layla thought back to the memories she had already experienced. She thought back to what Alec had told her. “If I was five weeks pregnant at that time, Carter might be her father. However, if I was four weeks long, Alec is.”
“You’re not sure?”
“No, Lacey, I’ve only remembered bits and pieces of events on my own. And that’s all I remember from the clinic.”
“Keep reading. Maybe something will jog your memory,” she suggested. “I’ll keep searching these boxes for more information that could be useful.”
Layla didn’t want to read anymore. She was horrified, disgusted, and totally shocked. She didn’t think she could feel so violated. Her stomach churned like she wanted to vomit. In her ignorance, she had married this man, raised her child with him, and slept with him. But it was too late to turn back now. Layla gathered her strength and continued to read.
Chapter 38
I still can’t believe Memrose is so strong that it wiped out her entire memory. If I had started human trials and this was the result, I would have been ruined. Now that I know, I can make the necessary adjustments, and I’ll also have a report to hand to the association for funding to start human trials and extended research as needed.
As for patient zero, her physical injuries are no more, and the pregnancy seems to be going well. I had told myself that I married her to keep an eye on her medically for research purposes, but it’s a lie. I don’t think I have been with a woman so beautiful and sweet. The truth is, the life of a doctor can be very lonely, and I’ve grown quite fond of her. So, it looks like I’m not doomed to spend the rest of my days alone with the darkness of Roseanne Quinn’s betrayal over my head. Unfortunately, my new wife is having trouble in the kitchen, but my mother is slowly giving her tips. However, it seems like she has a natural talent for mathematics. At least Memrose doesn’t wipe away instinctual intelligence.
Layla was so angry she could barely see. She threw the book across the storage unit.
“Hey, don’t lose it now. You need that as proof,” Lacey chided.
“Proof?” Layla repeated with anger.
“Proof to show the cops. You can’t let him get away with this. What he did to you is like some creep who put a mickey in your drink in a bar and took you home to rape you.”
Lacey was right. It wasn’t that much different. But instead of her body being violated, it was her mind. Damien had robbed her of her life and sense of self and then made her into a creation that he wanted
her to be. “He’ll be lucky if the cops get to him,” Layla mumbled as she stood. Walking to the other side of the storage unit, she picked up the diary she threw.
“What if he has done this to other people?” Lacey asked with worry. “It’s grotesque and . . . just plain out wrong.”
“I . . . I need to check my phone just in case Izabella called about Keisha. I left it in the car,” she said and hopped out of the storage unit.
****
Lacey couldn’t imagine what Layla was going through. Under all that charm and grace, Damien Miles was a psycho. And Lacey lived right next door to him. He played golf with her husband. The Smiths had hung out with the Mileses since they moved onto Sunset Boulevard.
She shook her head at the turn of events. At the most, Lacey had thought they would find evidence of Damien having a secret identity. That he really did work for the government, and he was undercover, protecting Layla from Carter Mitchell, not take advantage of her.
She looked around the unit, trying to think if there was anything they needed to take with them to show the cops. Damien had to be arrested and his medical licenses needed to be suspended, if not taken away all together. If he could inject a woman who had passed out from a car accident, he could have injected other people who trusted him with their health. Lacey noticed the wooden box on the table. She tried to open it, but it was locked. She picked it up. “This thing is kind of heavy.”
Layla came back into the storage unit. “Izabella didn’t call, but that twisted bastard who calls himself my husband sent me a text message.”
“What did it say?”
“Another neurologist can’t pull his hospital duties tonight, so Damien is going to cover for him. He won’t be home until midnight.”
Lacey nodded. “What’s in this wood box?”
“Don’t know. It’s locked.”
“Did you try the other keys on Damien’s key ring?”
“No, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try.” Layla pulled the keys out of her pocket as she walked over to Lacey.
Lacey placed the box back on the table so Layla could try to open it on an even surface.
Layla put one of the smaller keys in the lock. It was a perfect fit. She turned the key. Lacey could hear the click of it unlocking. Layla lifted the lid. Lacey’s mouth dropped open when she saw two silver revolvers resting on red cushions that lined the box. The initials L.M. were engraved on the handles. A box of bullets was tucked next to the walls of the container.
She watched Layla’s fingers dance over the shiny handles. Before she knew it, Layla’s body was falling backward. Lacey caught her, but she couldn’t hold her for long because Layla was a little heavier and taller than she was.
Lacey grunted as she carefully laid her friend on the concrete floor. She didn’t want to do that because it was filthy, but she had no choice. Getting on her knees, she tried to revive Layla.
Chapter 39
Flashes of light and images invaded her brain as every nerve in her body stung; growing up in DC, visiting her extended family in Hampton, Virginia, the boy she dated during her junior year in high school, meeting and falling in love with Alec, and meeting Carter in DC at a fancy restaurant that her aunt and uncle had taken her to for making the dean’s list that semester. Carter had pursued her relentlessly with his dynamic personality and expensive little gifts, turning her on and then making her fall for him. She had left for New York to move into Carter’s penthouse. Carter had taught her how to shoot a gun, and she became a natural at it. During the years they were apart, Lana still thought of Alec. She had wondered if he found someone else to love and forgot about her. Did he have kids, how were his parents, and were he and Bruce still friends? But most important of all, she remembered what had happened the last two months before she had disappeared from everyone she knew.
Since she was supposed to be in hiding, she couldn’t go to the pharmacy to get a refill on her birth control pills, so she had run out after her first month at the safe house. She couldn’t even leave the grounds to buy her own magazines. The food wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t the rich, exotic food she had become accustomed to. The agents she was with were polite, but they had no interest in having a conversation with her. Running out of books and magazines to read, she had gotten lonely. The loneliness had gotten worse when Lana realized how she had screwed up her own life. She had let herself become enthralled with the lifestyle Carter had offered her, causing her to break up with the only man who ever truly loved her. Lana had known before she made the decision to leave Alec that Carter’s business dealings weren’t all legit, but she had willed herself not to dwell on it. Everything has a price, she had told herself.
Lana had taken a chance and requested that Alec come to see her. Thinking that it was a fat chance he would come. She had been shocked, nervous, and happy when the agents said Alec and Bruce were coming to relieve them for a while.
When Alec and Bruce had arrived, they brought food to fill the fridge, a deck of cards, movies, and new books for her to read. On the third night, Bruce had left them alone to check the perimeter. She had thanked Alec for helping her and apologized for hurting him all those years ago. She had explained to him that she was mesmerized by the life Carter lived. Lana had admitted that she still thought about him all the time, and she was a fool for giving him up for material things. Alec had told her that he had never forgotten her even though he had tried. They had hugged each other, putting the past behind them. Then they had looked into each other’s eyes after the embrace. She wasn’t sure who moved in first, but they were kissing, then they were pulling each other’s clothes off.
They had shared a bed at the safe house every night after that until Alec and Bruce were called back to the city. Before they parted again, Alec had told her that once all this was over and Carter and his family were put away for good, he would come for her so they could be together. Lana had happily agreed because she had fallen in love with Alec all over again.
On the fourth night with the new set of agents, everything had gone terribly wrong. Agent Brown had disappeared. He didn’t tell Lana or Agent Turner that he was going out, so Agent Turner had told her to stay in the cabin until he got back.
They had been gone twenty minutes. She had gotten nervous. so she had put her coat on and went out into the snow. She didn’t have to venture far from the cabin before she saw the agents squaring off. Agent Brown had yelled at his partner that he needed the money, and if he was smart, he’d keep quiet so he could get a piece too. Agent Turner reached for his weapon, but Agent Brown’s draw had been quicker. She had watched Agent Brown shoot the man in the head. She had tried to sneak away, but the foul agent saw her. He had called out for her. Lana had broken out into a sprint. She knew Agent Brown probably came outside to call Carter and his guys to tell them that she was here and to come. Luckily, she had brought her own protection. When she had decided to do the deal, she was surprised that the agents didn’t search her or her things. Technically, she wasn’t under arrest, but still. Chalking it up to most of the guys on the case had known that she was a college friend of Bruce and Alec’s, they hadn’t.
She had gotten to the cabin and locked the door. As she raced upstairs, she could hear Agent Brown shooting the lock off. Breathing heavy as she pulled her suitcase from under the bed, she grabbed one of the revolvers Carter had gifted her one year for her birthday. Agent Brown called out to her again. He had said that he wasn’t going to hurt her, but he had to turn her over to the guys that wanted her. Brown had started talking about his son who had leukemia. His health insurance covered most of the cost, but the deductibles were slowly killing him and his wife financially. So much so they couldn’t pay the electric bill last month.
Lana had felt bad for the kid, not because he had leukemia, but because he had to grow up without a father. She had made a choice. Agent Brown had to die so she could live. She consciously chose herself over a little boy’s father. So, she had carefully rounded the corner of the bedroom. He had
been coming up the stairs. She quickly aimed and fired twice. It blew him backward, but he wasn’t hurt. That’s when she had realized he was wearing a vest. He had raised his gun, but she fired off a shot aimed at his head. The bullet had gone straight through, splattering blood on the banister.
She didn’t have time for regrets because she knew Carter was coming for her. She had quickly packed her things and dug into Brown’s pockets for the car keys. He didn’t have them. Frantic, she had run outside in five inches of snow to Turner’s body. He had them in his pocket. Then she had raced back to the house, packed the car, and took off.
Lana had no way of getting in touch with Alec directly. In hindsight, she should have used Brown’s cell to call the FBI NY office, but it was too late. She had driven fifty miles when she realized her mistake. Lana had figured she could drive directly to the NY office and request assistance. She had known it was risky to go back into the city, but considering the situation, she had no choice.
She was fifteen miles outside of the city, but she had less than a fourth a tank left. A gas station had been open. She pulled over to a pump. When she had gotten out of the car to prepay for the pump, a young man with baggy pants yelled out, “Hey. That’s her!”
They were dressed in black, and she could tell one of them had a gun in his side pocket. “Shit!” she had screamed and got back into the car. Lana had started it up as the men yelled at her to stop. She had nearly run one of them over to get out of there.
After a few minutes, she had thought she had lost them around the curves of the country road until the car lunged forward. Her eyes widened in the rearview mirror at the high beam lights that were bumping her aggressively. Then the gun shots started going off.
She screamed as she turned a curve. A bullet had hit her tire, making it blow instantly. Then the car hit a patch of ice, making it swerve sideways to give her pursuers a good view through the driver’s window. Lana had seen the barrel of the gun and ducked down before the glass shattered. Then she could feel the car being pushed on the side into something on the side of the road.
Blank Slate Page 24