Patti shot me a wary look. “So?”
Mom and I exchanged a glance. Clearly she already knew this. “I took part in the medical trial. Had the chip implanted.” I lifted the baseball cap and pointed to my bandage.
She pulled her top lip between her teeth. “Did it work?”
A strange question. And something about the way she asked it . . . Did she have some personal stake in the trial? I put the cap back on. “Yes. And no.”
“What does that mean?”
Mom shook her head. “Lisa—”
“It cured my depression. And it placed scenes in my head. Of your murder.”
Patti’s eyebrows raised. “You’re crazy.”
Tell me about it.
The scene of her storming into Hilderbrand’s living room replayed in my head. Her accusations of infidelity . . . “You’re dating Hilderbrand, aren’t you.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Why can’t you stop cheating on me? You’re nothing but a liar!”
“But you know he’s running around on you.”
Mom covered her face with her hand.
Patti stiffened. “Get out of here.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me how I know?”
She pushed past my mother, clutching her mail. “If you’re not gone by the time I’m inside, I’m calling the police.” She stalked up the driveway.
“I know what his living room looks like. Beige walls, a marble fireplace. Impressionist painting of the ocean, a glass coffee table. Hardwood floors and a Chinese rug. And his kitchen—stainless steel appliances.”
Patti halted, her spine rigid. Slowly she turned around. Her eyes flashed. “So that’s what this is about. You’re one of them.”
“No.”
“You’ve been in his house.”
“No.”
She strode back toward me, indignation pouring off her shoulders. “Who are you?”
“Lisa Newberry. I don’t know your boyfriend. I only know that the chip he designed has put pictures in my head. Of you and him. His house. I see them through his eyes. Like they’re his memories.”
Patti hung there, her mouth open, eyes lasering into mine. Emotions trickled across her face like melting water over stone.
Her face blanched. She drew her head back and fixed her gaze on some faraway point. “It’s true, then.” She spoke half to herself.
“What?”
Her jaw worked. She looked back at me as if deciding what to say. “I’ve heard rumors that some of the chips . . .”
Mom’s lips parted.
“Are tainted?” I leaned forward, my heart tripping over itself.
Patti shrugged.
“Please tell me. You have no idea what this has been like.”
Patti ran her thumb over the stack of mail. “I don’t know. I’ve just heard Bill mention a few things. But he’s not sure what the problem is. If there is one he wants to fix it. This company is his life.”
Bill. I stared at her, the puzzle pieces in my brain more jumbled than ever. Why was she admitting this? To me, of all people? And why were some parts of the visions I’d seen apparently true while the big one—her murder—was false?
“Lisa went to Cognoscenti.” Mom edged closer to Patti. “She told the directors what she was seeing. They insisted her chip was blank and kicked her out of the trial.”
Patti shook her head. “I don’t think anyone told Bill that.”
“Why would they keep it quiet?” Mom looked at her askance.
“I don’t know. To protect the chip? Keep the trial going forward?”
I tipped my head to the sky. Stars ghosted the surreal night. What to even say next? I’d spent too many torturous hours believing William Hilderbrand was a cold-blooded killer. He was no Bill to me. No CEO kept in the dark.
Patti regarded me. “Are you really telling me you think the chip made you ‘see’ my murder?”
“I know it’s hard to believe but—yes.”
“Who supposedly killed me?”
Mom shook her head at me. I ignored her. “Hilderbrand.”
“What?”
“It happened in his house. I saw the whole thing through his eyes.”
“Through his eyes?”
“Like it was his memory. Somehow put in my brain.”
Patti glanced distractedly at the mail in her hand. She stuffed it in her purse. “You mean—you never actually saw him. Saw his face.”
I managed a nod.
“So what made you think it was him?”
“Like I said, his house. I saw it in my head. Then I found it in Atherton—for real.” I put my hands on my hips. “He owns a dragon’s head ring, doesn’t he.”
“A what?”
“A ring that looks like a dragon’s head. Has emeralds for eyes.”
“Are you kidding? He’d never wear anything like that.”
Wait a minute—no? My mouth snapped shut. Then whose ring . . . ?
She ran a hand through her hair. “You say you never saw his face. What if you were seeing through someone else’s eyes? Someone in his house?”
That stopped me cold.
For a long moment I could only stand there, the question ricocheting in my chest. God, please let this make sense! Because absolutely none of it did. I was worse off for coming here.
“Well, you’re clearly alive.” Mom to the rescue. “So whoever’s eyes it was—that person’s not a murderer. None of that is even true. What remains is the problem for Lisa—and for Cognoscenti. There’s something wrong with her chip. The company needs to accept that and fix it.”
Patti took a deep breath, as if confronting a major decision. “I can get you in to see him.”
My jaw dropped. “Hilderbrand?”
“Would you want to?”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “I’ll call him tonight.”
“You will? Really?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” My voice sounded like a little kid’s. I backed off, palms up. How I would ever face the man, I had no idea. “Okay.”
Patti aimed me a hard look. “I hope you understand what I’m doing for you both. Getting in to see Bill is like getting in to see the President. He’s so busy, and he protects his time. Nobody infringes on it. You understand that?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“And one more thing.”
“Uh-huh.” My mind was already twirling. I didn’t think I could take much more.
“Don’t lie to him. Don’t try to put anything over on him. Or I’ll tell you something, Lisa Newberry.” Patti took a step toward me, jabbing her forefinger in the air. “He’ll chew you up and spit you out.”
Chapter 26
ON THE DRIVE HOME MOM HAD TO PULL TO THE SHOULDER of the freeway so I could throw up. I stumbled from the car, stomach wrenching. By the time we made it back to the apartment I could barely think straight. All the work Mom and I had done—and we only had more questions. And now I had to face Hilderbrand himself. How would I get through that?
Once home I collapsed on the couch. It was nearly nine-thirty. My body begged for sleep, but my brain wouldn’t turn off. Around and around it went over the questions and inconsistencies, a nightmare carousel.
My mother tried to get me to eat.
Mom, really?
Patti was supposed to call when she got through to Hilderbrand. Mom laid the receiver on the coffee table beside me.
The clock ticked. We waited.
We talked about the meeting with Hilderbrand—if it happened at all. What we’d say. What questions we wanted answered. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I told Mom. “I wouldn’t want to face that man by myself.”
She nodded. “But he’s not a murderer, Lisa. You’ve got to turn your thinking around on that.”
Not so easy to do. Even after talking to Patti Stolsinger, being inches from her face, I still saw visions of her lying on the floor, dead.
Sometime after 10:00 the phone rang. My hand s
natched it up. “Hello?”
“It’s Patti.”
Guilt rose in me. “Hi. I’m so sorry again for what I did to you. So sorry.”
She made a sound in her throat. “He’ll see you tomorrow morning at 9:00. In his office at Cognoscenti. Take it or leave it.”
This was really happening. “I’ll take it.”
Silence hummed over the line.
“He wasn’t happy with the way you treated me, you know. And I have to tell you—he’s heard your name before. You threatened the trial directors that you were going to sue his company.”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“Let’s hope not.”
Mom watched me, biting one side of her cheek.
“Look, Patti, I’m sorry. Really. I know I scared you.”
My mother nodded her approval.
“So make it up to me. Tell Bill what he needs to know. Work with him.”
What he needs to know. My fingers tightened on the phone. These people didn’t care about me. They just wanted to protect their company. A company and a product potentially worth millions of dollars. Maybe a billion.
If Hilderbrand wanted to destroy me, he could.
“Okay. I will.”
Patti clicked off the line.
I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at it. “I can’t believe this,” I whispered.
Mom leaned toward me. “Are we in?”
“We’re in.”
For the next two hours Mom and I planned the meeting. We listed questions we wanted Hilderbrand to answer. Where are the chips manufactured? Who could be responsible for my tainted product? Were other trial members complaining of similar problems? Patti had hinted that they were. Bottom line I still wanted the two things I’d always wanted: proof that the chip was responsible for the scenes in my head and assurance that it wouldn’t go on the market until it was fixed.
Looking back I think: how very naïve.
But as Mom and I talked, something else happened. A different kind of feeling grew between us. Even though she’d been a lot of help the past two days, it wasn’t until that conversation that I really started to see us as friends. Yes, she’d made mistakes in raising me. But she’d never meant to hurt me, only build me up. I’d made the mistakes worse by clinging to those memories as an excuse for my poor self-esteem.
Sherry’s words came back to me: “Jay says it’s a good thing your mother showed up. It’ll make you stronger.”
Was this was he meant?
Mom and I sat on the couch as we talked. When we were through I leaned over to hug her. She hugged me back, a little awkwardly maybe, but she did it. “Thank you again for being here,” I said. “I know it can’t be easy leaving your job this long.”
She waved a hand. “You know how many sick days and personal days I’ve accumulated over the years? They owe me.”
“Did you tell them you were sick?”
“I told them my daughter needed me.”
And I did.
Sometime after midnight I crawled into bed. Tired as I was, I still couldn’t sleep. I lay there praying, thanking God for sending Mom to help me. We’d need that charm of hers in our meeting with Hilderbrand. I’d probably be tongue-tied for most of it. Mom and I had become a team.
You and I are a team, too, God seemed to say.
I smiled. Of course, I knew that.
Didn’t I?
Then a moment came back to me—a fleeting realization from my stay in the hospital. At the time I’d been too drugged and amazed at my lack of depression to grasp it. Now I saw it clearly. God had been there every minute of my grief-stricken days. He really had. My lack of feeling Him didn’t mean He’d abandoned me.
The thought so drenched me with warmth I could hardly stand it. All those days and nights I’d felt so alone—I’d been wrong?
I started to cry. I didn’t know, God. I didn’t. But how could I have doubted You?
Then I saw the rest of it—the answer to my own questions—and the tears gushed. How could I have doubted? Because I’d believed my own emotions, that’s how. My own unstable, ever-changing emotions. There I’d been, Lisa Newberry, one person among billions on this Earth. And I’d based the universal Truth of God’s love for His creation, His nearness to me, on how I felt?
For a long time I couldn’t move. My body felt pressed to the bed, even while the new knowledge filled me with lightness. God had never left me! It had just been me, stuck in my own narrow-minded, unseeing view of the world. I never needed to think that way again. If I went through new hardships—and life seemed to be full of them—I didn’t have to trust my feelings. I could trust God’s word. He said He’d be there. And He was.
My nose was running, and my head pounded. I went to the bathroom for some aspirin and tissues. After that I walked my bedroom floor in the dark, asking God for forgiveness. Begging Him to help me do better. He’d shown me this truth. Now I had to use it, live by it. But I was still such a feeble, mixed-up person.
God, I’m going to need all the help you can give me.
I don’t know when I finally managed to sleep. Two o’clock, maybe? Three? I do know I drifted off with a peace I hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
And I had no dreams about the murder. Not one.
The next morning Mom woke me up at 7:00. Way too soon. But I needed time to get ready. I showered and slipped into a jacket and slacks. Put on makeup and fixed my hair—as well as I could, considering it hadn’t been washed and still sported a bandage.
My insides still simmered with all I’d learned the night before. I wanted to tell Mom about it but felt shy. Would she understand? Would she really get how deep this was for me? As it turned out, that conversation would have to wait. We spent breakfast again going over our plans for The Meeting. Mom did most of the talking. As for me, panic was setting in. (Those fickle emotions again.) We were going to see Hilderbrand. The man who knew I’d threatened to sue Cognoscenti, his company. I’d nearly assaulted his girlfriend. I’d told the police he was a killer. Why should he answer any of our questions? What if all he wanted was my information? Then he’d sweep me under his exquisitely expensive carpet.
Okay, God, this is one of those times. I know You’ll be with me.
Mom reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry. If you clam up, I’ll take over. We’ll get through this.”
I managed a smile. “Thanks.”
At 8:15 the phone rang. I got up to answer it. “That’s probably Sherry.”
But the ID said Patti Stolsinger. My veins chilled. Was she cancelling the meeting? I threw Mom a wild look and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“You’re going to see Bill, right?” Patti’s voice was hard.
Not even a hello from her. If she was this bad, what would Hilderbrand be like? “I . . . yes. At 9:00.”
“Fine. I forgot to tell you one thing. It’s nonnegotiable.”
“Okay.”
“Come alone.”
Chapter 27
I DROVE TO PALO ALTO, MY BACK WOODEN. I COULD hardly feel my hands on the wheel.
“Come alone.”
No way did Patti Stolsinger forget to tell me that last night. She’d seen firsthand how much my mother’s presence stabilized me. Hilderbrand had planned Patti’s last-minute call just to put me off balance.
It was working.
Mom had wanted to at least ride along with me. I told her no. What if Hilderbrand looked out his window and saw her? Would he cancel the meeting out of spite?
I pulled into a space in the Cognoscenti parking lot—and my gaze fell on a black SUV close to the building. Its license plate started with 6WB.
The sight rattled me. Hilderbrand’s car. One more thing the scenes in my head had gotten right.
On shaky legs I entered the office building. Richard Mair, my old friend the security guard, was expecting me.
With camera watching, I hung the mandatory name badge around my neck and signed myself in. He looked on impassive
ly. If he was surprised at my entrance to the holy ground of Dr. Hilderbrand, he gave no sign.
Mair told me to wait in the area with the couches. I followed his pointing finger but couldn’t manage to sit.
My pulse flip-flopped.
I thought of the previous night, one without nightmares. Was that because of all my revelations? Or were the memories really going away? If I’d just waited this thing out, maybe it would have disappeared on its own. I wouldn’t be here right now, my stomach tight and skin all pebbled.
“Ms. Newberry?” A female voice spoke behind me. I turned to see an impeccably suited woman with stylish red hair. “Dr. Hilderbrand will see you now. Follow me, please.”
No greeting, no handshake. Not even an introduction of herself. Hilderbrand’s administrative assistant?
I followed the woman to the elevator. We rode to the top floor in silence. As we exited she motioned to turn right. “It’s down at the end of the hall.”
My feet shuffled me over the carpet, a lamb led to slaughter. Ahead of us, massive double doors of carved mahogany drew near. I could almost feel their weight as I approached.
The woman knocked.
“Come in.” A voice filtered from beyond. She pushed back one door and gestured me through with her arm. I stepped over the threshold into a breathtaking office with windows on three sides. Beyond them lay a view of the Bay.
The door whooshed closed behind me.
Hilderbrand rose from his seat at a huge, ornate desk. He was taller than I’d expected, a wide-shouldered man with sandy hair and an undeniable air of self-confidence. He wore a dress shirt and tie. A suit jacket hung from an exotic coat rack in the corner.
An expanse of blue carpet separated us. I didn’t move. He liked this, didn’t he. Watching me sweat.
Something shifted within me. Sweating or not, I deserved this meeting with His Highness. After all his chip had put me through?
“Come in, Ms. Newberry.”
The voice sounded vaguely familiar. Could it be the one that shouted, “Shut up!” to Patti in my visions? I crossed to stand before Hilderbrand, chin high.
He indicated a chair on my side of the desk. “Please. Sit down.”
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