by Tara Nina
His overall general appearance was that of a harmless individual, but his consistent chatter kept her on high alert in order to avoid being cornered by him. Even though he wasn’t her preferred type, he’d been nothing but nice to her . . . persistent, but nice.
She kept her manner calm. “I don’t think it’s wise to date coworkers. That’s why I think it’d be best if we just stay friends. Okay?”
Terrence straightened as he stared directly at her. She couldn’t read him. His eyes held a dark mystery she had no desire to unravel. Something about him didn’t sit well with her gut.
“I understand at the moment you hold no romantic interest in me. As a man, I find you a challenge, a quest of perfect beauty.” When she opened her mouth to speak, he raised his hand to shush her. “For now, I’ll accept the fact we’re merely friends and coworkers. As your friend, I thought it might be nice if you knew of another facet to weight loss, since you seem to be on a perpetual diet. I gave that business card to Louisa to give to you, but she tried it first on her minor bad habit. I guess she had to see if it worked before giving it to you. From what I’ve noticed in the lunchroom, the diet foods you keep carting in for lunch don’t seem appealing.”
“They aren’t,” she begrudgingly admitted. He had her there. The majority of the pre-packaged diet foods lacked flavor. If she were honest, she lost the same five pounds repeatedly. Next visit to the hypnotist would be the chain breaker in this awkward cycle if she managed to reach her goal of four more pounds for a total of nine.
“Besides, there’s something you should know.” He lowered his voice as he guided her across the lobby and out the front door. “I happened upon a missive from the Secretary of the Treasury Department to Administration. Within the next two months, a new health advisory for all employees will be implemented. A part of it pertained to overweight personnel. They plan to suggest that any individual who doesn’t meet military health requirements must attend a Get Fit boot camp.”
Amelia had heard of such places springing up all over the country. The camps drilled healthy living criteria into unhealthy participants and helped them change their lifestyles for the better. When she’d first heard of it, she’d thought about trying it. But the cost outweighed her pocketbook and in her heart she didn’t have what it took to survive the stringent boot camp regimen. Rolling out of bed in the wee morning hours, jogging for miles on end, exercising, and eating the basic rations didn’t fit in her agenda of things to do with her life.
“Are you sure about this?” It didn’t surprise her that a new health mandate targeting civilian personnel might be forthcoming. If they enforced this change, would she be out of a job for noncompliance? She’d have to check into it. In the meantime, she desperately needed to shed a few pounds to avoid the humiliation of fat camp.
“Working in the mailroom has its perks,” Terrence proclaimed in a low tone. “Even though I like you the way you are, it might be in your best interest to continue using this hypnotist. It shows he’s helping you with what you consider to be a problem. If I remember right, his ad claimed he could heal certain problems such as smoking, addiction, overeating, and sexual dysfunction.”
“Seems he can do it all.” Still skeptical, Amelia pictured the two-sided business card on her table at home by the phone.
Kalil Sayyid Riyad, Master Hypnotist
Follow the path to inner healing through Hypnotism.
Guaranteed to help you find the natural healing potential you possess
to correct the following:
Smoking Habits, Drug Addiction, Obesity, & Sexual Dysfunction
& any other minor bad habit.
Amelia snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of Terrence’s voice. “I doubt you have any sexual dysfunctions. If you did, I’d be more than happy to help you rectify them through trial and error.”
She couldn’t believe he’d just said that as she tried to maintain a cool façade. Digging the keys from her purse, she turned down the aisle to her car, hoping he’d stop following her. There wasn’t one feature about him she found attractive. Nothing set her heart to flutter or made her hunger to hear his voice. That’s what she wanted . . . a man who’d make her quiver inside with a simple look. Glancing over her shoulder at Terrence, she knew he wasn’t that guy. At work, she tolerated him and did her best to avoid him, especially since he continually asked her out. A sliver of her considered him harmless, but the rest of her entire being didn’t trust him. Not that he’d ever given her a reason not to. Her instincts hummed something wasn’t right with him. Never had she ever known someone who couldn’t take a hint and didn’t shut up.
Amelia rolled her eyes and grappled for an ounce of niceness. The inner voice of her conscience whispered, He didn’t have to share the information he’d found in that missive with you. No, she shook her head, he didn’t. He did it because he liked her, even though she didn’t feel the same about him. At her car, she unlocked the door, opened it, and tossed her purse along with the deli flyer to the front passenger seat.
She kept the open car door between them. “Thank you, Terrence, for letting me in on this info about fat camp. I do appreciate it.”
“My pleasure.” His smile broadened and she thought she saw a diamond embedded in one of his teeth. Funny, she’d never noticed it before, but then again, she tried not to stand this close to him at any given time. “How about I buy you and Louisa lunch tomorrow? It won’t be a date. Just lunch, you, me, and Louisa at the new deli. Give the health food a chance.”
On the spot, Amelia met his dark gaze, but couldn’t read his intent. Was he just being friendly or did he have something else in mind? She hoped for a swift exit on this one. “I’ll ask Louisa and get back to you.”
“I already did. She said she’d go as long as you did. So, I can count on you both for lunch?”
He didn’t give her a chance to answer, but spun on his heels and marched two aisles over to his car. Ambushed. That’s how she felt. Ambushed by Terrence. Telling her about the missive had been his way of giving himself an edge. First, he’d shared crucial information with her to soften her up. Second, he told her he was the one who gave Louisa the perfect solution to Amelia’s weight problem—the hypnotist. Third, now she owed him. At least that’s how she figured he saw it.
She slid into her car, grabbed her cell phone from her purse, and hit the speed dial button number two. It rang twice while she started her car.
Louisa answered. “Hello.”
“Did you tell Terrence you’d go to lunch with him if I went?”
“Yeah, but I figured I was safe. You never say yes to him.”
“Your plan failed.” Amelia sighed heavily. “Looks like we’re having lunch with him.”
“How did that happen?” Amelia could almost see the surprised look on Louisa’s face through the phone.
“Meet me at my place and I’ll explain.”
As soon as Amelia pressed the gas pedal and began backing out, she stomped on the brake nearly missing a small-sized man. She lowered her window. “Sorry. Didn’t see you.”
He smacked her trunk and cussed at her. “Crazy bitch!”
Mumbling something she couldn’t understand, he shuffled away. Amelia collapsed into the drivers seat, regaining her composure when it hit her. That squirrely-looking, small-statured man was the janitor Terrence had mentioned. Hubert, she thought he’d said was the man’s name. She looked around for him to apologize again, but he had disappeared somewhere between the other parked cars.
Taking greater care, she backed from her spot, drove slowly from the lot, wondering where the hell he’d come from. He hadn’t been there when she started backing out. It was as if poof he magically appeared behind her car.
Chapter Two
Nolan tossed his briefcase and hat on the front passenger seat. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, and hung it on the back of his seat. For several moments, he stared at the barbed wire fence that ran around the entire Kentucky Correctional Institute for Women. Ove
r the last five hours, he’d interviewed three of the four women involved in the bank thefts. The drive to KCIW in Peewee Valley equaled thirty minutes of his time. Interviewing the last inmate would have to be by phone. She was incarcerated at Gatesville Women’s Prison in Texas and flying there didn’t fit into the department’s tight budget.
The answers he’d gained so far left him baffled. Nothing about the events remained clear in any of their memories. Each adamantly denied committing the crime—not uncommon for convicted criminals. He sighed. Were they lying to him? His gut instinct screamed no. Something didn’t add up.
Nolan slid into his car, closed the door, and started the engine. What bothered him the most . . . clearly they were innocent pawns in some twisted plot. Similarities threaded their stories. Every question he asked, their answers were related by minute details, but different. Yet, they were located in different cell blocks with no chance of meeting. The opportunity to speak hadn’t occurred. He’d double checked that point when he spoke with the guards and the warden.
Surely he’d missed something. Information from their files flipped through his head as he turned out of the parking lot. Not long on the highway, traffic stopped. Twenty cars ahead of him, a tractor-trailer had jackknifed and spilled its cargo, scattering cases of live chickens all over the roadway. Clean-up crews were on the scene, so he hoped it wouldn’t take too much longer to rectify the mess and get traffic moving again. Nolan put his car in park, relaxed in his seat, and glanced at the others stuck around him.
The guy in the car next to him lit one cigarette off of the other as he steadily chatted on a cell phone. He noted in the rearview mirror a woman sat munching on a bag of snacks. Two women got out of the car in front of him, strolled to the trunk, and opened it to reveal an abundance of shopping bags. No doubt they’d spent their day at the mall. Shopaholics, he snorted. Shopaholics. His eyes widened as he sat erect, glancing at the individuals who surrounded his vehicle. The guy lit another cigarette and the woman behind him now had a different snack in her hand. What did a chain-smoker, a binge eater, and a pair of shopaholics have in common?
Addiction. The word hit him square between the eyes. Nolan unhooked his seatbelt, leaned over to the passenger seat, and opened his briefcase. The theory brewing made his adrenaline race. He grabbed the women’s files and thumbed through each of their personal medical histories. He noted each corrected a malady without remembering the steps taken for the remedy. Two quit smoking, but couldn’t remember how they’d done it. The third one’s doctor made a note of unexplained rapid weight loss. After a dozen different tests, they determined no ailment caused the weight drop. The fourth woman’s nervous facial twitch disappeared, but she didn’t know why. She claimed it had simply stopped.
A horn blared, jarring Nolan from his thoughts. Lifting his gaze, he saw traffic had resumed. Tossing the files back into his briefcase, Nolan returned his attention to the road. These women’s lives had been tipped upside down just like that truck’s cargo. Nolan sighed, glancing at the mess. What if there was a reason behind these sudden changes in their lives? What measures had they taken to rectify their bad habits? It seemed odd to him that each made a life-altering change within the months prior to committing the crimes—yet had no recollection of how they’d done it.
There had to be a connection. Determination churned in his gut. At the first exit, he dropped onto a side road that brought him in the back way to the Louisville Treasury Department building. After six, most had left work for the day. He swung into an empty space at the rear of the building. The department he needed would be more easily accessed through that corridor. Nolan swiped his ID card and pressed his hand to the imprint recognition system.
The lock released and he entered. A night guard making rounds greeted him. After exchanging a few words with him, Nolan hurried on. Tonight he was on a quest—solving the puzzle of four incarcerated females and hopefully setting their lives right along with making sure the missing money hadn’t been used to finance a terrorist sect.
* * * *
When Louisa left, Amelia closed and locked her door. She shuffled through the events of the night and focused on the most important points. Louisa had visited the hypnotist because Terrance had given her the card to give to Amelia. Instead, she’d kept it to use for herself, try it out first, and see if it worked before giving Amelia another false hope on the weight loss train. She sighed as she ran a bath. Questions about the hypnotist and his methods tumbled through her head as she sank into the tub. Closing her eyes, she recalled the conversation that disturbed her most.
When asked, Louisa remembered smelling something right before she went under, but she’d thought it was some sort of incense. The fact she woke thirsty and dizzy after being hypnotized added to Amelia’s concern. The more she thought about it, the more these minor things fueled her growing anxiety. Like herself, Louisa had never seen any other clients at the doctor’s office. This propelled Amelia’s suspicions into overdrive.
It was Louisa’s admission of having odd dreams since visiting Dr. Riyad that had Amelia’s gut knotted and mind shifting through different scenarios. Were these dreams somehow related to being hypnotized? Were they implanted suggestions by Dr. Riyad? Or, were they simply dormant or forgotten memories resurfacing triggered by the sessions?
The more she thought about it, the less she understood. Vague images flashed inside her head as she struggled to remember. She even shared the sensation with Louisa of forgetting something. Neither could figure out what they’d forgotten but sensed it was important. Things didn’t add up. Never having been hypnotized before, she couldn’t be sure if the issues she and Louisa experienced were simply side effects. One thing she decided, she intended to find out.
There were a few things brewing in her brain she just couldn’t stop thinking about. Had she spilled secrets of her job under hypnosis? Doubt sprang to life. Fear gripped her soul. Maybe this hadn’t been the smartest choice. Amelia swallowed hard and attempted to get a grip on her overactive imagination. Could she lose her highly-classified position at Fort Knox if her boss found out about this?
Amelia sat upright in the tub. She loved her job as an accountant with the United States Bullion Depository. Her parents were proud to have their only daughter working for such a distinguished organization. Though she knew they’d keep her secret, she didn’t tell them of her most recent promotion. She’d been selected as one of the four individuals needed to open the vault. With the way the locks were designed, it required more than one person to work the combination at the same time. Her gut clenched. Had she spilled her series of numbers to the hypnotist? Panic thrashed through her as she breathed deeply, trying to gather her thoughts.
The one thing that eased her conscious—out of the four of them, no one knew which set of numbers actually opened the vault. Standing, she grabbed a towel from the rack, stepped out of the tub, and dried off. Even if she had relinquished her combination under hypnosis, she knew he couldn’t do anything with it. Four people simultaneously inserting their codes were necessary to open that vault. Besides, she sighed in relief, a thief would never make it through the security. Every muscle froze as an idea slammed into her.
What if Dr. Riyad implanted something into her brain? What if he knew where she worked and was using her to steal from Fort Knox? Amelia shook her head. That idea didn’t make sense. No one had ever successfully stolen from Fort Knox and they weren’t about to now. Not with her help. She ran the towel through her hair. It had to be the fact she was tired that her thoughts twisted into such an impossible scenario. With her eyes closed, dark images flashed inside her lids but no matter how hard she concentrated, she couldn’t distinguish what or who she saw. They were too vague and distorted. Mumbled words echoed inside her head, causing her to shiver.
She hung the damp towel on the back of the bathroom door, walked into her bedroom, and dressed in her favorite pajamas. The yellow cotton pair with parrots imprinted all over them gave her a sense of comfor
t as she slid under the covers. Her brain ached from system overload when thinking of Dr. Riyad. One thing she decided for sure as she turned off the bedside lamp . . . Tomorrow, she’d research hypnotism Web sites and learn more about the process. If she were lucky, maybe she’d find documentation of patients who’d experienced similar sensations of forgetfulness, woke up thirsty after a session, and suffered strange dreams. There had to be others out there who felt some sort of odd occurrences due to hypnosis.
At least that’s what she hoped and that her idea of Dr. Riyad planting some sort of subliminal command was completely absurd.
Chapter Three
“Everything is going as planned?”
“Yes, the main individual needed for this job shall be finished with her programming after two more sessions.” The heavily accented voice of Dr. Riyad paused then sounded concerned. “I don’t like leaving Louisa’s memory intact of her visits here. It opens the way for error. We shouldn’t have included her in this project.”
“They are best friends. It must be this way or else it would raise too much suspicion between them.”
“Still—”
“My friend,” he cut in, “you worry too much. I shall be there to whisper the command in her ear that will rid her mind of any memory of you or your work.”
“You’d better be right. He will not accept failure.”
“In this, we shall not fail.” He hung up the phone. The subtle threat didn’t go unnoticed. But it wasn’t the first time in his line of work he’d been threatened and it probably wouldn’t be his last.
It should bother him that his accomplice, Riyad, didn’t seem to trust him, but it didn’t. Was it because they weren’t of the same nationality? Ah, he sighed to himself. Racism breeds well among religious fanatics. For years, he’d played one sect against another and worked for the highest bidder to regain whatever artifact they claimed belonged to them. As a renowned thief, it didn’t matter who the item truly originated with; what mattered was the payment he received for stealing it.
