Andrea broke off the memory abruptly. She didn’t dare take the scene any further, because she had a terrible premonition of what that would do to her. Any illusions she might have had about herself, about the kind of person she had been, would be shattered forever. There would be no deluding herself once the memories returned. No pretending. Just cold, hard reality.
A reality she wasn’t sure she was ready to accept.
The burst of memory seemed to have gone on forever, but in actuality lasted only seconds. Madison appeared not to have noticed Andrea’s silence. She was still talking about her mother’s paintings.
“…often wondered what she might have done with her talent if she hadn’t had so many kids to take care of. Then after Gary died, she stopped painting altogether. It’s been five years, and as far as I know, she hasn’t picked up a brush since.” She caught herself then and glanced at Andrea. “Listen to me rambling on like that. You don’t even know who I’m talking about, do you? Gary was my brother. He was killed five years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Andrea murmured. She had begun to think of Madison Stoner as someone who led a perfect life. She seemed professionally successful, came from a big family and had a past that Andrea doubted very seriously would ever come back to haunt her. But Madison had known grief in her life. She’d known pain, and Andrea realized that nothing was ever as it seemed on the surface. There were always undercurrents, some not so strong, but others so treacherous they would pull you under if you let them.
Those were the undercurrents Andrea worried about. “I’m not sure this was such a good idea after all.” She turned to Madison. “Aren’t you afraid to have me stay with you? What if that man Troy saw outside my door last night comes looking for me here?”
“Look.” Madison tucked her short glossy hair behind her ears. “In the first place, we don’t even know if that person was a man or a woman, and in the second place, since he or she was dressed in surgical scrubs, it could very well have been hospital personnel.”
“Then why did he run away? Why did he disappear like that when Troy chased him?”
“Maybe because Troy chased him. Or her,” Madison said. “My brother’s not always subtle.”
“Still, the person’s actions were suspect, you have to admit,” Andrea persisted. “And I can’t help thinking that if he found me in the hospital, he could just as easily find me here. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”
“You’re assuming that the person’s intent was to harm you. You don’t know that for sure, do you?”
The brown eyes, so like her brother’s, studied Andrea intently. Andrea had to remind herself that Madison Stoner, regardless of her kindness and generosity, was a trained psychiatrist, and she was the daughter and sister of cops. Andrea knew it wouldn’t be easy fooling her, day in and day out, pretending that her mind was still a complete blank. In spite of the danger lurking outside these walls, there was danger inside, as well. Maybe she would be better off just to leave. Maybe they all would be better off if she simply disappeared.
“Andrea?”
She forced her attention back to Madison. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I said I don’t think you have to worry. The complex has a security guard on duty twenty-four hours a day, and no one is allowed through the gates without the access code. My brothers made sure this place was secure before I moved in. You’re safe here.”
Was she? Was she safe anywhere?
All you have to do is remember, Andrea. Then you’ll know where the danger is coming from. You’ll know who your enemies are. All of this will finally be over.
But it wouldn’t be. Somehow she knew that when her memory returned, the real nightmare would begin.
She rubbed a hand across her forehead, willing away the gnawing doubt that she had done something wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. Why else did she have these flashes of remorse? This almost overwhelming feeling of guilt?
Why else had she been found covered in someone else’s blood?
“You look tired,” Madison said. “Why don’t I show you to the guest room?”
“No, I’d like to stay out here for a while, if that’s okay.” She didn’t want to be shut away somewhere. She wanted openness, at least the illusion of freedom. She gazed around, admiring the simple yet elegant furnishings. “This room is so soothing.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Madison smiled and sat down on the couch, curling her feet beneath her. She waved Andrea to the chair facing her. “I like to think of this as my sanctuary, a place where I can get away from all the problems of the world, mine as well as everyone else’s.”
“But you can’t do that with me here, can you?” Andrea’s fingers clutched the arms of her chair, but she willed them to relax.
“I don’t think of you as a patient,” Madison said. “I think of you as a friend, Andrea.”
Andrea was touched beyond words. She instinctively knew she didn’t make friends that easily, had had maybe one or two really close friends in her whole life. But she’d felt an instant bond with Madison from the first and had to resist the urge to confide in her, to tell her everything she’d remembered. And everything she feared.
Andrea had felt that instant connection with Troy, too, but the bond with him was very different from friendship. What she felt for Troy was an emotion she didn’t dare analyze too closely. There was no such thing as love at first sight, was there?
She twisted the ring on her finger, but didn’t take it off.
“Can I ask you something, Andrea?”
“Of course.”
Madison’s gaze was direct, but nonjudgmental. “There’s something between you and my brother, isn’t there?”
Her insight was terrifying. “No,” Andrea said quickly.
Madison sat forward, her dark eyes troubled. “I don’t mean to put you on the spot. It’s just that…I worry about him.”
“Why?”
“This isn’t the first time he’s been attracted to the wrong woman.” She looked immediately contrite. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
Andrea shrugged. “It’s all right. I understand what you mean.”
“I don’t think you do.” Madison paused. “You see, several years ago Troy became involved with a woman who almost destroyed him. She was a murder suspect, and he was the detective assigned to the case. She convinced him that she was innocent, and that all she needed was for someone to help her prove it. When Troy tried to help her, she turned everything around, accused him of everything from police misconduct to planting evidence to make her look guilty, and it worked. Her lawyers got her off, but afterward, when Troy confronted her, she went off the deep end, pulled a gun and tried to kill him. It was all a big mess, a terrible scandal, and Troy was suspended pending a formal hearing, which eventually cleared him. But his reputation took a pretty bad beating, and he lost faith in his ability to judge a person’s character, both in his professional and personal relationships. He doesn’t trust easily, and if he seems a little harsh with you at times, that’s why.”
“I understand.” But in her case, he had good reason not to trust her, Andrea thought sadly. She didn’t even trust herself.
“I just thought you should know,” Madison said softly. “Troy was hurt very badly once. I wouldn’t want to see that happen again.”
“I don’t want to hurt him.” Andrea hoped she didn’t sound as defensive to Madison as she did to herself.
“Of course not. But you’re married, Andrea. If my brother falls in love with you, someone is going to get hurt.”
Fall in love? Why did that notion send such a burst of excitement spiraling through her? Why did the thought of a man like Troy Stoner falling for someone like her make her want to shout with joy?
Because she was having feelings for him, too, Andrea admitted. She knew, without knowing how she knew, that she’d never felt this way about anyone else. In spite of his doubts and suspicions about her, Troy Stoner was someone very spe
cial.
But Madison was right. Andrea couldn’t afford to let her feelings get out of hand. Not only because she was a suspect. Not only because she might have done something wrong, and not even because Troy had once been badly hurt.
She couldn’t let her feelings for him show because she wasn’t free to love him.
A terrible yearning came over her. A part of her knew he was the person for whom she’d been searching all of her life, but she’d found him too late. If she had any decency left inside her at all, she would sever the bond between them, before it was too late.
Before anyone got hurt.
* * *
TROY SAT AT HIS DESK, staring at the stack of files in front of him, and decided he wouldn’t call his sister to find out how things were going with Andrea, no matter what. By all indications, Andrea was a married woman, and what’s more, a suspect. He couldn’t afford to let his attraction go any further. Hadn’t the past taught him anything?
But his affair with Cassandra Markham had been different. He’d been a lot younger for one thing, and he realized now the fact that she’d been taboo had been the strongest part of her appeal. Troy had always been somewhat of a rebel, and in Cassandra Markham, he’d sensed a kindred spirit that had drawn him as surely as a moth to flame.
It was different with Andrea, although the similarities couldn’t be denied. She was a beautiful, desperate woman in a whole peck of trouble. Troy’s natural inclination to be the rescuer had been struggling like hell to get out. But it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t that he sensed a dark and dangerous quality about her, although he did. But after Cassandra, that no longer had the appeal it once did.
No, what he felt for Andrea was something different, something deeper, something harder to define. The fact that she was off-limits to him was not an attraction but a frustration. She was a married woman. What if he got involved with her, and then when her memory returned, she suddenly realized she was deeply in love with her husband? Where would that leave Troy?
Best to stay away from her, he decided, wadding a phone message and tossing it toward the trash can. Best to keep his distance. Because if he didn’t stay away, he might start to think that she was attracted to him, too. He might start to wonder if that subtle light that ignited in her eyes when she looked at him was desire. And if that happened—
God help him, if that happened, he might start to forget that she was forbidden.
* * *
SHE KNEW she was dreaming but she couldn’t make herself wake up. Andrea lay helplessly in the throes of her nightmare, watching the scenes play out before her as if she were looking through the keyhole of a door.
She could see the gray-haired man with the careworn face, the dark-haired young woman with the musical voice, the older woman with the hate-filled eyes and someone else Andrea couldn’t quite make out. Someone who stayed in the shadows.
Where was Mayela? She seemed to be the central figure in the drama, but she had yet to take the stage. Was she the one who waited in the wings for her cue? Somehow Andrea didn’t think so. The shadow who prowled offstage was a dark figure, an ominous apparition that frightened Andrea, although for all she knew, that lurking presence could have been herself.
Disturbing thought, that.
The young, dark-haired woman with the musical voice said, “Please say you’ll stay, Andrea. Your being here has been a godsend for all of us. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re the only one I can talk to. I’ve been so depressed lately. I’ve had such terrible thoughts. At times I’ve actually wondered what it would be like to…do away with myself.”
The older, dark-haired woman with the hate-filled eyes said, “My daughter is dead. The police say it was suicide, but I don’t think so. I think you had something to do with Christina’s death.”
The gray-haired man with the careworn face said, “I’ve changed my will, Andrea. When my time comes, you will be well taken care of.”
Suddenly the scene became even more dramatic, but Andrea was no longer watching through the keyhole. The door had opened, and she was there, with the gray-haired man as he clutched his heart and fell to the floor. Blood was everywhere. All over her.
“I hate you! I want you dead!”
An overwhelming sense of guilt washed over Andrea, stronger even than the horror that lay before her. But even as she stood staring at the blood on her hands, a little voice inside her screamed, Run, Andrea. Find a place to hide! If they find you, they’ll take you away. They’ll say you’ve done bad things, terrible things. They’ll lock you in the dark room!
And then a child, a little girl, screamed, “You killed my daddy! You killed my daddy!”
The focus changed, and Andrea was now watching the scene through the child’s eyes, experiencing the child’s emotions. She thought for a moment she was the child, but then she thought the child must be Mayela. From the child’s eyes, she saw a woman bend over the dead man. Blood covered her hands as she lifted them in front of her.
Then Andrea was behind the door once again, observing both woman and child through the keyhole. The child was sobbing, screaming in terror. The woman turned her head toward the sound and smiled, her expression demented.
With deepening horror, Andrea saw that the woman’s face looked like her own.
* * *
WHEN ANDREA WOKE UP, she was gasping for breath. She felt as if someone were choking her, and for a moment, her arms flailed in the air.
But there was no one in the room with her, and as her heart settled down, the images in her dream began to come back to her—the gray-haired man, the young, dark-haired woman, the older woman with the icy voice and the unseen presence lurking in the shadows. Who were these people?
The gray-haired man worried her especially because Andrea knew in her heart he was dead. But how did she know? How could she possibly know, unless…
She got up and walked to the window, staring out blindly into the darkness. It was all coming back to her, just as Madison and Dr. Seavers had predicted. Andrea was finding the pieces to her puzzle one by one, and the bigger picture was starting to take shape.
Someone had died, and someone from her dream was the murderer and someone was the victim. But just what role Andrea had played in the grisly tableau was yet to unfold. She wondered how much longer she could prolong the ending.
As long as you have to, said the little voice of survival.
But Andrea was no longer listening to that voice. She was listening to her heart, and it was telling her that the longer she delayed her confession to Troy, the more he would despise her when the truth came out.
Somewhere outside, a shadow moved and Andrea’s heart stopped. A tree limb blowing in the breeze, she tried to tell herself, then realized there wasn’t a breath of air stirring. The night was still and silent. There was a three-quarter moon, but a lacy filigree of clouds hung over the pale light. Madison’s tiny yard lay in darkness. Andrea peered anxiously through the window. Outside, nothing stirred. Nothing moved.
Inside, Andrea’s breath was suspended in her throat. Her heart hammered against her chest. He was out there, she thought. Somewhere among the shadows, the figure who had been in her hospital room and the malevolent presence in her dream were waiting. But for what?
For a moment, in spite of her terror, Andrea experienced a brief stirring of hope. If someone was watching her, if someone wanted to harm her, didn’t that mean she wasn’t the killer? Didn’t that mean she was an innocent victim? Couldn’t she go to Troy and tell him everything she knew?
But what if he doesn’t believe you? whispered the little voice of reason. What if he locks you away in the dark room? What would happen to Mayela?
Who is Mayela? Andrea wanted to scream. Why couldn’t she remember her? Why was Mayela in danger, and why was Andrea so sure that she was the only one who could save her?
Andrea couldn’t explain it, but the feeling was so strong inside her she was forced to accept it. She had to remain free. She couldn’t be sent
away. She had to pretend she remembered nothing, because only then could she help the little girl named Mayela.
CHAPTER SIX
By the time Madison got up the next morning, Andrea had fixed them both breakfast. She’d set the table on the tiny patio out back and brought in the paper from the sidewalk. She didn’t open the paper, though. She didn’t want to see her picture, didn’t want to think about the fact that no one had come forward to identify her. Except for that figure outside her hospital room, and the malevolent presence last night.
She suppressed a shiver as she poured freshly squeezed orange juice into two glasses and carried them to the table.
Madison came outside, yawning widely. She gazed at the table in amazement. “This is lovely, Andrea, but I didn’t invite you here to be my maid. You didn’t have to do this.”
“I don’t mind. Besides, it’s the least I can do.” She took a seat across the table from Madison and unfolded her napkin.
Madison took a bite of the scrambled eggs and closed her eyes. “Heavenly! Where did you learn to cook like this?”
From my aunt, Andrea almost said, but then realized she had no idea who her aunt was, or why she had taught Andrea to cook.
You must be self-reliant in every respect, Andrea. Not only do you need to learn to cook and keep house, but you need a profession. A respectable way to earn a living. Never depend on a man—for either your support or your happiness. Look what happened to your poor mother. If she’d never met your father, she wouldn’t be locked up in that awful place today, and I wouldn’t have been forced to take in her wayward child. Not that I mind, of course. I’ve never been one to shirk my responsibilities. But I’m not as young as I used to be, and you can be a handful at times, though I’m sure you always mean well. I just pray you haven’t suffered any permanent damage from that horrible ordeal, and you won’t suddenly become unhinged one day….
What She Forgot Page 6
