Lost Identity

by Leona Karr

  “You okay?” he asked anxiously.

  She started to answer but the words froze in her throat as suddenly the movement of the car changed into the sensation of a whirling boat, and her whole body was caught up in a terrifying memory.

  She cried out and covered her ears as slashing winds and the tumultuous roar of a pounding surge built to an excruciating crescendo in her head.

  “No, no,” she screamed.

  Andrew pulled the car off the road and braked to a sudden stop. When he tried to take her in his arms, she lashed out at him with the fury of a trapped animal.

  “Stop it, Trish. It’s me. It’s Andrew.”

  She stared at him with glazed eyes and then with a whimper, collapsed against his chest. The images in her mind whirled like a runaway film, superimposing one upon the other.

  “What is it, Trish? What’s happening to you?”

  Her voice was strained, and he bent his head close to hers. She struggled to describe the upheaval that was going through her mind and body. Every word she drew for him presented an unbelievable horror that he could picture very vividly.

  Lying on the deck of a boat, she was drenched by the onslaught of sucking waves. Even as she struggled to get to her feet, she was lifted up and swept out of the boat. Somehow, she stayed afloat in the churning water, and was carried in by the surf to the beach where Andrew found her.

  “Who was on the boat with you?” he prodded when she fell into silence.

  “There was someone but I don’t know who.” Her mind was suddenly filled with ephemeral images that came and went too fast for her to hold on to them.

  “Do you remember what happened before you found yourself on deck?”

  She bit her lower lip so hard that her teeth left a mark. As fervently as she willed herself to remember, there was nothing recognizable that she could draw forth from the churning turmoil in her mind. Sobbing, she shook her head.

  “It’s okay, darling,” he said, holding her close, and stroking her hair. “Don’t you see? This is a breakthrough. I bet that bits and pieces of your memory will begin to surface now. We just have to be patient.”

  His words were intended to be reassuring but they brought their own terror. How could she continue to go through this mental torture?

  Andrew waited until the tremors in her body had lessened and the fear in her anguished expression had eased before started the car again. Trish cowered against him, keeping her eyes shut and her head lowered during the rest of the drive.

  They were only a few miles from the cottage, but the rain had turned into a deluge by the time they reached it, and they raced from the car into the shelter of the house. Trish dropped wearily down on the couch while Andrew quickly laid a fire in the fireplace.

  “I’ll get us something warm to drink,” he said and started toward the kitchen just as a glare of headlights flashed across the windows. “Who can that be?”

  Trish instantly stiffened. The police? Had O’Donnel come for her? Her mouth went dry and for a moment, she fought a panicked impulse to flee out the back door. The detective already had enough circumstantial evidence to charge her with murder.

  As Andrew crossed the room to open the door, she stood up, suddenly too weary to fight against the inevitable.

  “Come in,” Andrew said, in surprise.

  A wash of relief flowed through Trish when she saw that it wasn’t O’Donnel in the doorway, but a split second later, a jagged memory like the piece of a jigsaw puzzled fell into place.

  “No,” Trish gasped, staring at Janelle. That overwhelming sense of betrayal that she’d felt before rose again in her tight chest.

  As the woman stood in the doorway with the dark storm behind her, Trish’s memory suddenly gave back the same picture of Janelle holding a gun, standing in the cabin’s doorway, silhouetted against the slashing wind and whipping water.

  “It was you,” Trish croaked. “You shot Perry.”

  Janelle’s expression tightened as a gloved hand came out of her pocket, revealing a gun. “So you remembered, Patricia. That’s what I was afraid of.” She motioned Andrew away from the door. “This isn’t exactly the way I’d planned but the result should be the same. Two lovers found dead in each other’s arms.”

  “You won’t get away with it,” Andrew told her flatly, his brown eyes hard as rock.

  “I wish things could be different, I really do.” She gave Trish a tight smile. “Even though it looked as if you were nicely in a net to take the blame for Perry’s death, I knew sooner or later something would trigger your memory.”

  “That’s why you stayed so close to me, pretending to be taking care of me,” Trish said in a voice that shook with a sense of betrayal. “Why would you do it? Why would you shoot Perry?”

  Janelle’s mouth twisted in an ugly line. “The two most common motives for murder, of course. Money and love. Perry and I had an affair while his first wife was alive. When she died, I expected that Perry and I would get married. Instead, he dropped me when he met Darlene, and I decided to take my revenge out in a way that would line my own nest. Unfortunately he began to get suspicions that someone was skimming money from some of the accounts, and I knew his investigation was centering on me. I heard him on the telephone setting up the date to talk to you about it while you took a spin on his new boat.”

  “And you followed her there,” Andrew said, hoping to take Janelle’s attention away from Trish. He had backed up so he was standing at one end of the fireplace, and he didn’t know how long she would talk before carrying out her plan to shoot both of them. His mind was racing with the urgency to take the gun from her.

  Janelle glared at him. “I had no choice. The two of them were already talking about me in the cabin when I got there. I had to protect myself.”

  As a curtain in her mind rose like the opening of a stage play, Trish said, “You shot Perry, and I knocked the gun from your hand. We struggled and I managed to get away. I fled up to the deck but you caught up with me and hit me on the head.”

  “I should have shot you then, but someone was coming out of the boathouse and I was afraid they’d see me or hear the shot. I threw off the bowline so the cruiser would drift away from its mooring. As the fierce waves quickly took the boat out to sea, I hoped that it would capsize and that would be the end of all of it.”

  “Then you never really liked me, did you?”

  Janelle gave a short laugh. “It was easy to feed you stuff about shopping trips and pretend I knew all about your love life. It was laughable how gullible you were. Having O’Donnel zero in on you as Perry’s killer was an unexpected benefit. Of course, I couldn’t depend upon you not recovering your memory. That’s why I tried to set up that suicide scam with the gas.”

  “Can you really stomach killing three people in cold blood, Janelle?” Andrew asked, as he took a step closer to her.

  “Don’t,” Janelle warned, leveling the gun at him.

  “Andrew, please,” Trish cried, sensing that he would sacrifice himself to save her.

  “Into the bedroom, both of you, and take off your clothes,” Janelle ordered. “This time there won’t be any slipups.”

  Andrew took a step toward Trish, then suddenly turned and hurled himself at Janelle’s knees like he was making a football tackle. She went down, but as she fell, the gun went off. A deafening shot exploded in the room.

  Trish felt a searing pain like a hot iron in her side. She touched a stream of warm blood bubbling up through her fingers, and her legs gave way beneath her. She slumped to the floor as a gray cloud floated her away into a blessed nothingness.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The same paramedics as before answered Andrew’s frantic call, and Officer Baxley’s patrol car was close behind. Janelle was still unconscious from the blow Andrew had landed on her jaw when she tried to get up from his tackle. He was covered with Trish’s blood as he knelt beside her, trying to staunch the flow from her wound.

  The ambulance took her to the littl
e hospital where she had been before, and Andrew found himself in the same waiting room, pacing the floor and breathing prayers for her life. It was hours before she came out of surgery, but the news was good. Trish’s wound was a clean one. The bullet missed any vital organs, and the doctor said that once she was moved out of the intensive care unit, her recovery should be rapid.

  Andrew visited her every hour for five minutes as was allowed, but she was always asleep, and he had to be content with holding her listless hand and whispering loving encouragements.

  After he watched the sun come up, he headed for the cafeteria for a cup of coffee, and was beseeched by a throng of reporters. The news media had been alerted to Janelle’s confession that she had murdered Perry Reynolds and had been foiled in her attempt to carry out a plan to make Trish and Andrew’s deaths look like a suicide-murder. Flashbulbs went off in Andrew’s face and a barrage of questions were fired at him. He was trying to make a retreat from the onslaught when Lieutenant O’Donnel pushed through the crowd with two other policemen, and held up his hand for silence.

  “Hold it, people!” he ordered the crowd. “You’ll get a news release when we have some facts to relate. Until then, clear out!” He nodded to the two policemen who moved forward and herded the protesting reporters out the front door of the hospital. Then he turned to Andrew. “Let’s find someplace to sit down. You look ready to fall on your face.”

  When the hospital administrator stepped up and offered a small office, O’Donnel gratefully accepted. Andrew sank wearily down on a couch and put his head in his hands as the detective pulled up a chair and took out his notebook.

  “I’m sorry, son, but this can’t wait. We have a confession from Janelle Balfour, but I need details from you. What exactly happened?”

  Andrew raised his head, and then leaned back against the couch. Staring at the ceiling, he related as best he could everything that led up to the moment when Janelle appeared at the door. He described Trish’s flash of memory in the car, and her sudden remembrance when Janelle came into the house.

  “So she remembers everything?” O’Donnel pressed.

  “I don’t know about everything,” Andrew sighed. Maybe it would take a little time to recover her complete memory. And when she did, would Trish, the foundling, disappear now that the wealthy socialite, Patricia Radcliffe, had made her reappearance? Once Trish’s total memory was intact, he knew that she had a business to run, obligations to fulfill, and responsibilities to pick up where she had left off.

  O’Donnel asked a few more questions, and then closed his notebook. “That’ll be enough for now. I’ll speak to the doctor and see when I’ll be able to interview Ms. Radcliffe.” He paused. “Amnesia victims are a little out of my line. I missed the boat on this one,” he admitted as peered at Andrew through his large glasses.

  “Yes, you did,” Andrew agreed shortly. He could have added that the lieutenant’s handling of the case almost got Trish killed twice, but didn’t.

  ONCE TRISH WAS MOVED to a private room, Andrew was instantly by her bedside. “I’m here, sweetheart,” he assured her when she began to stir.

  Opening heavy-lidded eyes, she peered at him. Then a faint smile touched her pale lips as she said, “You look god-awful.”

  “Thanks,” he smiled in relief. “And may I say, you’ve never looked lovelier.”

  “Liar.”

  He chuckled as he gently smoothed a strand of dark hair back from her forehead. “I never lie. You’re beautiful and I love you.”

  “Tell me what happened. Janelle?”

  Her worried expression convinced him that she needed to hear the truth. He assured her that the woman was in custody, and had signed a confession. “You can relax now. There’s no more danger. It’s all over, Trish.”

  “Is it?” she frowned as if trying to make all the pieces fit. “Is my memory completely back?”

  “I don’t know about completely. I guess that will take a little time. You may want to ease back into things slowly.”

  There was the hint of a sparkle in her eyes as she said thoughtfully, “Maybe I ought to go back to the cottage and spend a little time recuperating.” She gave him a wan smile, closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

  CURTIS PAID HER A VISIT a couple of days later, his arms filled with flowers, and deep concern etched on his face. It only took a few minutes for her to realize that any hopes she had to stay removed from the world of Patricia Radcliffe, were not going to happen. She couldn’t leave the company adrift. It became apparent that her responsibilities and her commitment to the people involved in Atlantis Enterprises could not be ignored.

  Curtis’s relief was obvious as they began to talk about business, and he even commented that her business acumen was as sharp as ever. He also hinted at the possibility of becoming a partner now that Perry’s position was open.

  “I need some time to sort things out, Curtis. We’ll talk later.”

  “Yes, of course. In the meantime, I’ll make sure that everything runs as smoothly as possible. There’s a woman in the accounting department that can assume Janelle’s responsibilities for the time being. Her name is Sarah Henderson. She’s very quick, intelligent, and she has the company’s best interest at heart. I think she’d really handle the job beautifully.”

  Trish smiled secretly as she listened to him extol the virtues of Sarah Henderson. There was a hint of something in his voice that had to do with more than just business. She was grateful that he said nothing about resuming their old relationship, and a heavy burden was lifted off her shoulders. She couldn’t help but wonder if Curtis’s declared love for her in the past was based more on his desire to assume more responsibility in the company, than any undying love for her. Obviously, he felt that, given the chance, he could easily step into Perry’s shoes.

  Andrew was not surprised when Trish decided that she couldn’t afford the luxury of hiding out at the cottage now that the full knowledge of her responsibilities had landed on her shoulders.

  It was the beginning of the end.

  Even though they tried to hold on to the passionate feelings that remained between them, Trish’s former lifestyle began to intrude, and as the weeks passed, the distance between them widened.

  They met for lunch as often as Trish’s schedule would allow. When she could delay weekend meetings and conferences, they spent brief romantic trysts at the cottage. Andrew tried to be a willing escort to social affairs that demanded her appearance, but he came away feeling more like excess baggage than anything else.

  He had finished his software program, and was floundering in trying to decide which new project he wanted to tackle. He turned a deaf ear to his boss’s suggestion that he customize the program he’d just completed for one of their business markets overseas.

  “We need someone to spend a little time in Switzerland, implementing your program toward their specific office demands. How about it?” he asked.

  “I write them,” Andrew had replied shortly. “Let someone else customize them.”

  He struggled to concentrate on his work, and failed. The contented solitary life he’d enjoyed before a devastating mermaid washed up on his beach was gone forever. As he wrestled with his own future, the idea of getting away for a little while became more appealing. He reconsidered the offer his boss had made about sending him overseas to customize the program he had developed. Spending time in different surroundings might help soften the inevitable parting with Trish. When he mentioned it to her, he could tell that she was shaken by the sudden possibility that he would go abroad for an indefinite time.

  She stared at him as if he’d suddenly become a stranger before her eyes. “Switzerland? You’re thinking of going to Switzerland?”

  “Maybe it would be best—for both of us.”

  She’d been finishing up some work at her desk, while Andrew sat on the white couch waiting for her. They had already been delayed going to lunch by telephone calls and last minute interruptions. “Do you want to go?”
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br />   “You’re settled in nicely now,” he said evenly. “Your memory is back almost a hundred percent. Your busy life is spinning off in so many directions, you won’t even know I’m gone.”

  “How can you say that?” Her whole world suddenly seemed to tilt. Andrew was leaving her. She hurriedly sat down on the couch beside him. “You can’t go.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

  “Because…because I need you.”

  His smile was patient and loving. “No, you don’t, love. You’re a strong, independent woman who is capable of running a successful company. You know it, and I know it.”

  “But that doesn’t have to change things between us,” she argued. “And I do need you, terribly.”

  Trish swallowed back a lump in her throat. Didn’t Andrew realize how much she depended on his quiet strength and love to help her make momentous business decisions that could make or break the company her father had left her? She had been programmed from youth to this lifestyle, and he just needed time to adjust to it. She argued that their love was strong enough to survive the challenges they faced, but when he bent his head and lightly kissed her, she knew that she had lost.

  “I can’t do it, live as a reflector of someone else. You’ve found your life, Trish, and I’m happy for you, but now I have to find mine.”

  “And we can’t do that together?”

  He remained silent and let her answer the question for herself.

  THEY SAW LITTLE OF EACH OTHER in the three weeks prior to his departure. Trish’s schedule was tighter than ever with board meetings and numerous business demands. They talked to each other on the phone, but Andrew had the feeling that her mind was somewhere else. He kept telling himself that it was better that way. Her preoccupation with business made it easier for him to leave.

  When she showed up at the cottage just a few days before he was scheduled to leave, she looked like someone who needed some down time, and he suggested a walk on the beach to help her relax.