by David Archer
“Maggie,” her mother asked, “how do you feel? I mean, do you feel like you've been eating regularly?”
“Well, I’m a little hungry, but no more than normal. I must've been eating, or I'd be starving, don't you think?”
“Yes, that would make sense. What about your phone? Is there anything in it?”
Maggie had grabbed her phone out of the car, but hadn't bothered to turn it on yet. She pushed the button and held it for a second, and the device came to life. As soon as it was fully activated, she looked at the call history and saw that the last call she had made had been the night of the party, just before she got there.
On the other hand, there were a number of voicemails, mostly from family and friends trying to figure out where she was. There were also more than a hundred incoming text messages, also from people begging her to respond. None of them seemed out of the ordinary in any way, except for the fact that they were from people who didn't know where Maggie had gotten off to.
“You said the police checked my credit cards,” Maggie said. She went to her computer and turned it on, then logged in to her bank account. Sure enough, there had been no activity on her cards since the day she had disappeared. “This is all just too weird,” she said. “How could I possibly have been somewhere for a month, not used any money, not used my phone and not have any memory of where I was or what I was doing?”
“That's easy,” Marilyn said. “Honey, you've been brainwashed.”
“Marilyn, we don't have time for your conspiracy theories,” their mother said. “And who would want to brainwash Maggie, anyway?”
Marilyn shrugged. “I don't know,” she said. “You know, the government has been involved in mind control experiments for a long time. Maybe they grabbed her and sent her on some secret mission, I have heard stories about things like that.”
“Well, if I was brainwashed,” Maggie said, “then I want to know who the hell was behind it. What possible reason could they have for doing something like that to me? I mean, it's not like I know any big secrets or anything, and I don't have any special skills or talents.”
They talked about possibilities for a little while longer, and then Maggie just wanted to be alone. She drove her mother and sister home, then returned to her house and locked herself in. She closed all of her curtains and sat on the couch in the dark for several hours, just trying to find even the slightest shred of memory from the past month.
After a while, the tears came again, but she forced herself to shut them off. The last thing she wanted to do was be the person who sits around feeling sorry for herself, so she started thinking about how to put her life back together. Mr. Lewis had offered to give her job back, but she didn't think she could face all of her former coworkers. She logged on to the computer and looked at job boards, and discovered there were a number of openings for accountants around the city. She'd start looking the next day, and try to start a whole new chapter in her life.
And then the word got out that Maggie was back. While she was sitting on her couch eating a microwave pizza, her doorbell rang. She looked carefully through the peephole and saw some of her old friends, people she'd known since college and occasionally hung out with, so she opened the door and let them in. Another hour of explanations and repeating that she remembered nothing about the missing time, and then they finally understood that she wanted to be alone. She thanked them all for coming, then closed the door and locked it behind them.
The next time the doorbell rang, she simply ignored it.
When morning came, she got up and showered again, then got dressed in slightly nicer clothes. She got into her car and drove downtown, stopping briefly at Lewis Accounting to tell Mr. Lewis that she felt it was time for her to move on. The look of relief on his face told her that he was probably regretting offering to let her stay on, anyway.
On the other hand, Lewis was nothing if not generous and a good boss. He asked her to wait a moment in his office, then left the room. When he came back, he handed her an envelope.
“There's an official letter of reference in there,” he said, “telling anyone who wants to know that you are a fantastic employee and a terrific accountant. It says that we hated to see you leave, but that we understood your reasons for wanting to move on and wish you only the best. There's also a check in there, Maggie, and you can call it a bonus for all the hard work you've given us over the years. We really do appreciate it, and I really do hate to see you go.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said. “I think it would just be too uncomfortable to be around everybody here, and them knowing what happened.”
She took the envelope and left, and didn't open it until she got into her car. The check was for several thousand dollars, and she cried just a bit at his generosity, but also for the ending of a period of her life.
Okay, she thought to herself, so turn off the water works and let's go find a job.
She went downtown and started pounding the pavement, going from one company listing a job opening for an accountant to another. All of them seemed impressed with her resume, and the letter of reference was copied several times. Lewis had a good enough reputation in the city that his opinion would carry weight, and she was confident that she would be getting a call soon to interview for at least some of these openings.
On the other hand, you don't stop looking for a job until you have one. She was still walking the streets and putting in applications and handing out resumes two days later, but at least she was starting to feel more like herself again. In fact, she was feeling so much like herself that she decided to treat herself to a nice lunch. There was an Applebee's just across the street from the last place she had applied, and she looked both ways before crossing.
The hostess seated her in one of the little two-person booths, and she ordered a grilled chicken salad. That was one of her favorite foods in any situation, and it just seemed perfect that day. When it arrived, she dug in and was thoroughly savoring every bite when she suddenly realized the man at the bar was staring at her.
She glanced up at him, and he broke into a smile. “Rita?” he said. “That is you, isn't it?” He slid off the bar stool and came over to her booth, then sat down in the seat opposite her. “I thought that was you, how have you been?”
Maggie stared at him. “I’m sorry, but that's not my name,” she said. “I think you’ve mistaken me for somebody else.”
He leaned back in his seat for a moment and stared at her, confusion on his face, but then he broke into a smile. “Okay,” he said, lowering his voice, “I get it. You were just out on a little private jaunt? Don't want the husband to know?”
Realization dawned, and Maggie stared at him. “Wait a minute,” she said. “We've met before?”
The man laughed. “I should say so,” he said. “Are you trying to tell me you don't remember the weekend we spent together? I will guarantee you I could never forget it.”
A chill went down Maggie's spine. “Look,” she said, “I know how crazy this is going to sound, but I don't remember ever seeing you in my life. The problem is that I just found out a couple days ago that I have been missing for almost a month, and I can't remember anything that happened during that time. I’m not married, so I’m not trying to hide anything from a husband, but if you saw me sometime during the last month, I'd like you to tell me all about it.”
“Okay, that's a good one,” the guy said. “You're honestly trying to tell me you don't remember?” He leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “We met in the Roundabout Club in Reno, Friday night two weeks ago. We danced and had a great time, and then you and I went to my hotel, and had an even greater time. Except for when we went out to eat, we pretty much stayed in bed the whole weekend, until you left me on Sunday evening. Starting to ring a bell?”
Maggie's face was turning red, but she slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry, but no,” she said. “I can tell you with sincere honesty that I don't remember ever meeting you at all, let alone anything like—li
ke that. That isn't even something I would normally do. I mean, don't get me wrong, I’m not exactly Little Miss Innocent, but I just got this thing about doing things with people I haven't known for quite a while.”
The guy leaned back again, and the confusion was back in his face. “You don't remember me? Jim Wilson?” He took out his phone and tapped on its screen for a moment, then turned it around to show Maggie a photo. It showed the two of them together, and they were definitely in bed and actively engaged in…
“Oh, my God,” she said. She stared at the picture for a moment, then looked up into his eyes. “I’m so sorry, but no, I don't remember any of this. Where did this happen?”
“Well, that was at the Holiday Inn in Reno,” Jim said. “Like I told you, we met at the Roundabout Club, and you told me you were waiting for somebody who never showed up. When they started getting ready to close up, you asked me where I was staying and if I wanted company, and that's when we went back to the hotel. Your name really isn’t Rita?”
“No,” Maggie said, shaking her head. “It's not. Jim, my name is Maggie, Maggie Bingham. I’m so sorry, I know this has got to be terribly confusing for you, but I really don't remember any of it at all.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “I don't suppose I told you what I was doing in Reno, did I?”
Jim looked at her, a frown on his face. “All you said was that you were there looking for somebody,” he said. “You were expecting to find him at the Roundabout, but he never showed. I had to fly out on Monday, so I never saw you again. I couldn't believe it when I looked up and saw you sitting here, just now.” He made a rueful grin. “I was actually thinking maybe it was fate, and you're my soulmate.”
“I’m so sorry,” Maggie said. “You seem like a decent guy, Jim, but I really don't know you. I wish I could say I did, because then maybe I'd remember more of what happened during that time, but I can’t even remember what you've just shown me. I mean, I can see that it happened, but I have absolutely no recollection of it.”
Jim shrugged. “As crazy as it sounds,” he said, “I’m pretty good at knowing when people are telling me the truth, and I believe you are. You know, I have heard of people who just get so tired of their daily grind that they develop a whole new personality that can let off the stress. Maybe that’s who Rita is, and she just came along because you needed a break.” He reached into a pocket and took out a business card, then laid it on the table in front of her. “Just in case you ever want to talk about it, that's got my cell number. I’m a salesman, so I travel a lot, but you can reach me anytime, anywhere.”
He got up out of his seat and turned to walk away, but Maggie caught his hand. “Jim,” she said, “thank you. At least now I have some idea of where I went, even if I don't know what I was doing. And thank you for believing this. Trust me, I know exactly how crazy I sound.”
“I just hope you get better, Ri—Maggie. This has got to be something pretty heavy to deal with, but if you ever just need a friend to talk to, I’m willing.” He squeezed her hand once, then walked back over to the bar and sat down with his back to her.
The shock of seeing the photo was more than she could handle, so she pushed the remains of her salad away. She got up and paid her bill, then walked back to where she had left her car and drove home.
There was a car parked in front of her house, a big black sedan, but she paid no attention to it. She pulled into her driveway and climbed out of the car, and that's when two men got out of the sedan.
“Ms. Bingham?” asked one of them.
Maggie looked at them, and a chill went down her spine. They were wearing business suits, but she could see the badges attached to their belts.
“Yes, I’m Maggie Bingham,” she said.
One of the men took a paper out of his pocket and held it out for her to see.
“Ms. Bingham,” he said, “I’m afraid we have a warrant for your arrest. You're going to need to come with us.”
“Arrest?” she asked, shocked. “Arrest for what?”
The other man stepped behind her and pulled her hands behind her back, and she felt handcuffs click onto her wrists as the one who was speaking took her purse from her.
“Ms. Bingham, you are under arrest for the murder of Walter Burns in Reno.”
The world began to spin, and Maggie suddenly fainted.
Maggie was taken to the police station, and interrogated for several hours. She continued to insist that she had absolutely no memory of being in Reno, or of anything that happened during the missing month. Detectives interviewed her mother and sister, her boss and coworkers and even the friends that she had spoken to, but nothing they could do would shake her story.
Unfortunately, her fingerprints had been found in the hotel room where Mr. Burns’ body was discovered, and they were also on the handle of the knife that was protruding from his chest. He had been stabbed almost seventy times, and the hotel’s security video showed Burns and Maggie entering the room, and then Maggie coming out a couple of hours later alone. No one else entered the room until the next morning, when the hotel maid discovered the grisly scene.
The story made national news, mostly because of Maggie's claim of remembering nothing, but it faded rather quickly. The authorities simply didn't believe her, and the evidence spoke for itself. Maggie Bingham had committed murder, and would eventually pay the price. She was quickly extradited to Reno, and the Vegas PD almost forgot about her.
That might've been the end of it, but a week later, another young woman in Las Vegas suddenly awoke with a headache. Like Maggie, she got up and went to work only to find that she had been replaced after failing to show up almost five weeks earlier. She was just as much in shock as Maggie had been, but was too proud to try to reach out to anyone to help her figure out what happened. Instead, she kept to herself and just started looking for another job that day, privately terrified that she might be losing her mind.
And then she got home and found two police officers waiting for her. Like Maggie, she was immediately arrested for murder, only this time the crime occurred in the neighboring community of Henderson. She protested her guilt, insisting she knew nothing about any murder, but the police simply figured she was trying the same sort of insanity defense that had been all over the news with the Maggie Bingham case, so they ignored her and kept berating her to answer their questions.
Finally, she demanded a lawyer and a phone call. The lawyer would have to wait until the court could appoint one, but the phone call was no problem. She called her mother, and wept as she poured out the story.
Her name was Yolanda Martinez, and she was the only daughter of Carmelita Martinez, one of the elderly women who made their meager living by helping out around the ranch of Chance and Gabriella Reddick.
ONE
“We need to lay in some hay,” Chance said as he came in the back door. “The weather's going to start turning cooler before long, and we need to be ready.”
Gabriella turned to smile at him while she continued stirring the stew she was making. “I can call Mr. Logan, down by Clarksville. He should have plenty to get us through the winter, and he sells it cheaper than anybody else around here.”
“Good. I was hoping not to have to go too far looking for it. I'm about half surprised anybody around here raises hay, as dry and rocky as the ground is.”
Gabriella stood and stared at him for a moment, counting her blessings at having him in her life. They had only been married for a couple of months, but they had been some of the most wonderful months she had ever known.
Chance came into her life about six months earlier, and anyone who knew the story would have probably thought she was crazy to actually marry the man. He had gotten involved with a drug cartel back in his home state of Kentucky, and had actually been sent to find her for the purpose of killing her. He had accepted the job because of the promise of a large payday, but Chance wasn't really a murderer. By the time he met her, he was already having doubts about whether he could do the job, and he'd known h
er only a few days before he decided that it wasn't going to happen.
By that time, he knew that he was already falling in love with her. She was the most beautiful and genuine woman he had ever known, and the hard life that she had before meeting him had only helped her to go into the role. When he discovered that the man who had sent him after her had done so for his own nefarious aims, rather than the supposedly justified reasons he had given, Chance had decided it was time to take matters into his own hands. He had returned to Kentucky with the intention of trying to negotiate for her life, but circumstances had forced him to cooperate with a rival cartel leader and kill the man who had given him the orders.
Chance was capable of killing, but not of cold-blooded murder. He had become a killer when he avenged the death of his little sister, who had been murdered by the cartel. There were warring factions that had caused her death, and Chance had allied himself with one of them in order to deliver his own brand of justice to the killers. After that, and with the police already suspecting him of the murders of the two who had murdered his sister, he had come to think of himself only as a killer. With nowhere else to turn, he had agreed to hire on to the cartel general who had helped him get his vengeance.
It was that general's right-hand man who had sent Chance after Gabriella, claiming that it was the boss man who wanted it done. According to Oscar Reyes, who gave him the orders, Gabriella's husband Benito had once stolen millions of dollars from the boss man, and then died before anyone found out where the money was. Oscar said the boss wanted Gabriella dead as a message to others to never risk stealing from him.
Even though he detested the idea of murdering a young woman, Chance had been afraid to turn down the job. He had gone to Nevada and found her, then managed to get her to hire him as a helper on her ranch. That's what exposed them to each other, and allowed Chance to figure out that she was innocent of anything to do with the theft of money.