Blank Slate

by Olivia Saxton

  After stopping at a gas station and going to the bookstore, she headed to the medical center for her appointment.

  She only had to wait for ten minutes in the reception area before Dr. Samuelson’s door opened. “I’ll see you next week.”

  A white man who had a long, brown, fuzzy beard and a beer gut looked back at the doctor. “Okay. See you then,” he said and walked out the door that led to the hallway.

  “Layla, come on in,” the doctor said with a small smile.

  Layla walked quickly past the doctor and into the office. Plopping down in her usual spot, she let out a short breath.

  “Hmm. You seem like you have something on your mind. Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “Yes, Victoria. I definitely need to talk about it,” she replied. Layla had felt comfortable calling Dr. Samuelson by her first name after her fourth appointment. Victoria didn’t mind, she had admitted that she preferred it.

  “It isn’t the charity auction that you and your husband hosted, is it? From what I saw in the papers this week, it was a smashing success,” Victoria said as she sat down in her usual rose-colored armchair.

  “No. Well, not exactly. I met two men at the auction. One of them . . . admitted that he knew me . . . before I got married . . . before I had my accident.”

  “Wow,” Victoria said as she started taking notes on her trusty legal pad. “What happened after he told you that?”

  “With everything going on, we couldn’t talk there. I practically begged him for his phone number so we could set a time and place to meet so I could ask some questions. He refused. He had said that it would just cause trouble and to move on with my life and forget learning about my past. Well, of course, I couldn’t leave it at that. When he started walking away, I tried to follow him. Then his friend got in my way and gave me his card. It had his name and phone number on it. He told me to call him so we could talk later.”

  “Did you?’

  “Yes. We met over an hour ago at the park.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  Layla snorted. “Not much. He gave me a necklace and said it should help fill in a couple of blanks.” She stood and started pacing around the office. “I asked him to just tell me what my connection is to Alec Peterson. He said he couldn’t.”

  “Alec Peterson is the name of the man who said he knew you and wouldn’t meet with you, correct?”

  “Yeah. Bruce . . . Bruce Styles was about to leave me in the park, but I stopped him and asked if he knew me from the past, too. He admitted he did, but he wouldn’t elaborate any further,” Layla stated as she continued to pace around the room.

  “Did the necklace trigger any memories?”

  “No, just more questions.”

  “Like?”

  “Like did Alec give me the necklace, and I refused to accept it? Or did I give it to him? Were we in a relationship? Were we . . .?”

  “Were you what?”

  “In love?” Layla completed and stopped pacing. She looked at Victoria.

  The doctor leaned back in the armchair with the large, tall back. “Layla, this might be the perfect time to try hypnosis. Do you still have the necklace with you?”

  “Yeah, it’s in my bag,” Layla said. “You think it will work?”

  “Well, it couldn’t hurt. We’ve had seven sessions, and you haven’t had one memory come back to you by telling me what your husband has told you about your past.”

  Layla swallowed. Victoria had explained the hypnosis procedure three weeks ago. At the time, she didn’t see the point in trying it. But now it was her only hope in clearing up the mystery of the heart-shaped necklace. “All right. Let’s do it.”

  “Sit down – or lay down. Get comfortable,” Victoria instructed as she stood. Do what you feel will make you relax. Kick your shoes off if you need to.”

  Layla sat down on the couch while Victoria rummaged in her desk. Layla kicked off her shoes and lay down. She was uncomfortable, so she adjusted the pillow to support her back, neck, and head, and then tried again. It was better. She reached down for her purse and pulled the jewelry box out, then dropped the purse back on the floor.

  “Do you mind if I tape this? I usually tape my hypnosis sessions for legal purposes.”

  Layla’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not going to play it for anyone, are you?”

  “No. Unless a legal problem happens and the tapes get subpoenaed, or if I get sued by you or your family for malpractice.”

  “Oh, okay,” Layla said nonchalantly and relaxed against the pillows. There was no chance of either situation happening

  Victoria sat back down. “Take the necklace out of the box. The hypnosis might work better if you’re actually holding it.”

  Layla took the necklace out of the box and held it in her right hand.

  “I’ve turned on the recorder,” the doctor stated. “This is Doctor Victoria Samuelson. It is Thursday, November second. The patient I am about to put under hypnosis is Layla Miles. Layla, please confirm your name for the record.”

  “Layla Miles.”

  “Do I have your permission to record this session?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right. Now, I want you to close your eyes and focus on the sound of my voice.”

  Layla followed her instructions.

  “Start counting backwards from twenty.”

  “Twenty, nineteen, eighteen,” she began. Her counting slowed as she got closer to one. Her limbs felt limp, and her brain slowly cleared.

  “Layla, what is the first thing that comes to your mind concerning the necklace?”

  “Sadness . . . regret,” she mumbled.

  “Keep thinking about the necklace. Take your time. Let whatever enters your mind come,” she said softly.

  She continued to see blackness for a few moments, and then it slowly turned into a light brown. The brown turn brighter, transforming into yellow light. A face of a young, white male was in front of her. He had pale-blue eyes. They looked hurt – and angry. It was him. A younger version of Alec Peterson. Hands. A white hand and . . . her hand were clasped together, but something was between them. It was thick . . . bulky. “I will always care for you,” she whispered to him. He released her hand. It was a square, white jewelry box. Layla gasped as her shoulders trembled. She felt like she was going to cry – or perhaps she was crying already. She felt a tear fall down her cheek as she turned away from him. Everything disappeared in a white light. She gasped again at the quick change of scenery.

  “What do you see?” Victoria asked.

  “I saw Alec Peterson. He was younger . . . I think. His hair was a little longer, but it was him. I . . . gave the necklace back to him. I think I cried when I did,” she breathed.

  “Redirect your focus on the necklace in your hand again. Think about any other feelings that are associated with it.”

  “I can’t,” she whined lightly. Her fingers started trembling.

  “Breathe slowly with me. In . . . out.” Victoria guided Layla through slow, deep breaths for several minutes until her emotions calmed. “Now, focus on the necklace. Feel the curve of the pendant. Let the diamond graze your fingertips.”

  Layla followed her instructions without thinking twice. Something started tickling her neck. A quick flash, like someone just took a picture appeared in her mind’s eye. Then a vision that nearly made her jump appeared before her. She was standing in front of a mirror. Her hair was shorter, and she had what looked like reddish highlights around the bang area of her dark hair. She looked younger, and she was wearing a green as grass, long-sleeved top and black jeans she had never seen before – and she was smiling. Alec was putting the necklace on for her. When he fastened the clasp, he nuzzled the side of her face. Layla could feel his warm skin against her. “You are the diamond of my heart,” he whispered huskily. She turned to face him and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.” They embraced as the memory faded away.

  “Layla,” Victoria began. She sounded like she was
far away. “I’m going to bring you back now. Raise your finger to let me know you can hear me.”

  Layla lifted her index finger halfway up.

  “I’m going to count backwards. As I do, I need you to slowly make your way back to the present. Twenty . . . nineteen . . . eighteen, my voice is becoming clearer. Seventeen . . . sixteen . . .” Victoria continued her countdown as Layla’s mind slowly cleared. “Three, you remember everything you saw, two . . . one.”

  Layla’s eyes fluttered open. She licked her lips.

  “Tell me what you saw in order.”

  She told Victoria everything she remembered. She was surprised at the shakiness in her voice as she resisted the urge to hold herself like a frightened child. “This is the first time that I have experienced memories from my past,” she whispered.

  “How does that make you feel?”

  “I feel a lot of things. I feel a little relieved, because now I know that I am capable of remembering. I’m glad that some of my questions are answered. But, most of all, I feel sad and . . . ashamed.”

  “Why ashamed?”

  “I broke up with him. I don’t know why, but somehow . . . I know it was a mistake. I . . . it was the wrong thing to do. Don’t ask me how I know that. I just know that by letting him go, I made a huge mistake.” She looked up at Victoria and met her brown eyes.

  Victoria cleared her throat. “Our time is up, Layla. I have another appointment in ten minutes, but you’re welcome to sit in the lobby if you need a few minutes before you start driving home. This is the first time in four years that you have experienced your own memories. I recommend you get some rest when you get home.”

  Rest? Layla couldn’t rest. Her schedule was packed for the next seven days.

  Victoria cut off the small recorder on the coffee table and placed it in her lap. “Oh, I almost forgot. Now that your brain has been stimulated to function to remember things, you might have flashbacks of your past on your own.”

  Layla’s eyes widened.

  “You may remember something” — Victoria snapped her fingers — “just like that, or a particular action could bring a memory back to you.”

  “You’re kidding? After all this time?”

  “It’s a mild possibility it will happen, but it has happened with some of my patients who I’ve put under hypnosis. If it does, let the memory play out. Don’t be afraid of it – they’re just memories.”

  Layla swallowed. “All right. But I am grateful that I remembered something, especially about Alec Peterson. Poor guy, no wonder he didn’t want anything to do with me. I dumped him.”

  Chapter 9

  Layla’s weekend was filled with more social obligations than what she was used to, but she and Damien enjoyed it. Keisha seemed to like having playmates. The Ladies Sunday Brunch at Valerie Young’s mansion had been delightful. Layla had never been in a room with so many important men’s wives in her life. If she didn’t know any better, she would have sworn she could smell the money in that place. Valerie had served a seven-course meal. The hostess also made it a point to introduce her to everyone there, like she was bragging that the new and upcoming social setter came to her brunch.

  What really surprised Layla was Katelyn Austin being there. She knew Katelyn was well connected and popular, but she didn’t know she was so popular that she was a regular attendee of Valerie’s infamous brunches. Katelyn was just as surprised to see Layla when she had arrived after her. They had chitchatted before they went into the dining room, but they were not seated together. Layla was placed between the mayor’s wife and a successful real estate broker.

  She was washing the dishes from breakfast. A noise in the backyard made her look up and out the window over the sink.

  It was the pool man, who was thirty minutes early. He was coming to clean the pool. She waved at him. He waved back and continued his journey to the small pool. Layla turned on the faucet to rinse a glass. When she looked down and saw the large drops of blood on her hands, she shrieked and dropped the glass into the soapy water. Layla stumbled backwards as her eyelids blinked rapidly. She felt the skin under her nose. Nothing. Her nose wasn’t bleeding. Then she looked at her hands again. The blood was gone.

  “What the hell?”

  “Señora Miles?” Izabella called from the hallway. “Are you okay?”

  “Um, yeah. I thought I saw . . . a mouse. It startled me.”

  Izabella waddled into the kitchen. “Where is he? I get him.”

  “No. I’ll just set down some traps. I got some in the cabinet. Where’s Keisha?”

  “Playing with her dolls in the living room. I came to find her play cups. She wants to have a tea party with them. Did you wash them?”

  “Yes, they’re in the last cabinet on the other side of the kitchen,” Layla answered as she held her wrist to keep her hand from trembling.

  I know. I’ll play tea party with Keisha for a while. That will calm my nerves.

  For the next three hours, Layla spent time with her daughter as Izabella knitted something Layla couldn’t make out. Then Izabella and Layla took Keisha upstairs for nap time.

  “I’m going to try and take a nap, too. I didn’t get enough sleep last night,” Layla said. She didn’t take the sedative over the weekend because she didn’t want to be groggy. It would have made a bad first impression to her new hangout buddies.

  “Okay, señora.”

  “Night nigh, Mommy,” Keisha said.

  “Night nigh, sweetie,” Layla said and kissed her cheek. She walked out of the nursery to let Izabella get Keisha settled down.

  ****

  Damien Miles had left his home at 0834 hours. A stout, short, chubby Latino woman walked up the block and entered the Miles residence at 0914 hours.

  The undercover agent in training showed up in disguise as the pool man at 0935 hours. The trainee didn’t see anything unusual in the backyard, and the privacy fencing looked secure.

  They had been late in relieving the first team that had been watching her since late Wednesday night because of an accident on the highway. Thankfully, Lana hadn’t left the park. Alec had been relieved that Bruce kept his word and just gave her the necklace without elaborating on his and Lana’s former relationship. Not that Bruce was a dishonest guy. He just had a weakness for vulnerable ladies. He never could fight the urge to try and help them. Alec used to tease him about it, claiming he had a disorder called the hero syndrome. After the meet up on Thursday, they had tailed her to an office building. When she didn’t come out for twenty minutes, Bruce had gotten out of the car to take a look around the building. When he came back, he said he suspected she went into the psychiatrist’s office. One office was a temp agency, and the other three offices were empty.

  Alec had sighed with relief that she was seeing a mental health professional. Perhaps she’d be able to recover her memories of her past – for the investigation.

  They had tailed her home and watched her until the relief team showed up. Then they were back at it again on Saturday morning. On and off, they rotated shifts with another team, observing Lana and her family. Lana and her husband had a pretty busy social life. Alec wondered why he hadn’t seen her in Tampa before he saw that short interview on the news. Then again, it’s not like they traveled in the same circles. She was living the champagne and caviar life, and he lived the beer and pizza life.

  “Your girl is staying home today, I see,” Bruce said through Alec’s Bluetooth as he jogged up the block for the second time.

  “She’s not my girl,” Alec corrected as he sat on a bench in the cul-de-sac park.

  “She was.”

  Alec ignored the comment. “Are you heading back to me yet?”

  “Yeah — no way,” Bruce oozed.

  Alec rolled his eyes. He knew what that change of tone meant. Bruce saw a potential piece of ass.

  “Radio silence,” Bruce said and then the line went dead.

  As soon as Alec thought he was going to get a few minutes of peace and quie
t, three women walked into the cul-de-sac greenery. One had emerged from a small one-story house. She had long brown hair. The second one looked to be in her early fifties, but she looked good and she was a red-head. The third woman was a long-haired, long-legged blonde who walked toward him with a purpose. Her jeans were so tight that he saw her camel toe.

  The brunette and the red-head stopped at the curb to chat with each other.

  “Hey, fella,” the blonde greeted. “You’re new around here, aren’t ya?”

  “Uh, yeah. I just moved in. Two streets over.”

  “Oh, how delicious. My name is Margo. And you are—?”

  “Alec.” He was prepared to use a fake last name if she asked.

  “Nice to meet you. Are you married?”

  “Um, no,” he answered nervously.

  “I’m single, too. It’s hard to be a single woman on this street. Almost everyone on this street is married.”

  “Oh?”

  “So, are there a lot of single people on your street?”

  “I don’t know. We just moved in a few days ago.”

  “We? You said you weren’t married.”

  “Me and my roommate.”

  “Oh. Nice.” She sat down next to him.

  Shit. I should have said I was married.

  “So, what do you like to do for fun?”

  “Workout,” he answered simply.

  “Oh, I can see that, honey,” she purred as her hand glided up his bare arm.

  “Hey, Margo. Who’s your friend?” the brunette asked as she and the red-head approached them.

  She didn’t answer. Matter of fact, she looked annoyed.

  “I’m Jennifer,” the brunette said and extended her hand to him.

  “Alec,” he said and shook her hand.

  “I’m Enid,” the red-head said.

  “Nice to meet you, ladies.”

  Enid sat on the other side of him. “What’s a nice, handsome young thing like you up to today?” Her eyes sparkled as she leered at his chest and thighs.

  Alec shifted in his seat as he cleared his throat. “Um, just waiting on my roommate. We were jogging, and I got a cramp. He’s taking the last lap without me.” He looked up at Jennifer who looked like she was licking her lips in slow motion. He quickly glanced away. His eyes landed right on Enid’s wedding ring.