Double Blind (27 page)

“I'll do it for you. Go to bed.”

No energy to argue. I stumbled to my room.

Please let the surgery be Saturday,
I prayed as I fell asleep. I didn't care that I'd have to be cut open again. Stay in the hospital. Start recovery from scratch.

I just wanted that wretched chip out of my brain.

FRIDAY, MARCH 16

Chapter 30

On Friday morning we met at Hilderbrand's office
at 11:00—me, Rocky Rhodes, Hilderbrand, and his attorney, Matthew Lundgren. Rockland Rhodes turned out to be a silver-haired man with a gentleman's aplomb and the eyes of a shark. I was glad he was on my side. Lundgren stood much shorter than Rhodes, thin-boned and long-fingered. But every bit as keen.

Rhodes had pored over the document last night, and we'd discussed it. He had a few tweaks, but nothing major. Hilderbrand had done a good job of covering everything he and I talked about. Including the part that cancelled all secrecy about the contract if anything happened to me.

One change we had put in writing last night—that the surgery be done one day after the deal was complete. Rhodes had faxed his changes back to Hilderbrand, who responded a few hours later. Everything looked good.

So here we were, ready to sign. Tomorrow I'd be back in the hospital. Getting rid of my chip. I hadn't even had time to get the stitches taken out from the first surgery.

The four of us gathered around a small conference table in Hilderbrand's office. Outside the CEO's windows the sky strutted a clear slate blue. The Bay shone beyond. This time around, the office looked less intimidating. A little.

We wasted no time in getting down to business. There were four copies of the contract—one for each of us. I signed on the lines reserved for my name. Hilderbrand followed. The attorneys signed as witnesses.

Just like that, the deal was done.

Hilderbrand handed me an envelope, unsealed. Inside it—a cashier's check from Cognoscenti for $1 million. Autographed by the CEO himself.

I stared at the piece of paper, not quite believing it was real.

“Thank you, Ms. Newberry.” Hilderbrand gave me a rather mocking smile. “Don't forget half of that goes to help future Empowerment Chip patients.”

“I won't.” The language hadn't been in the legal papers, but I intended to keep my promise anyway, whether Hilderbrand believed me or not.

He nodded. “May you have a swift recovery from your procedure. And I hope you enjoy the new life our Empowerment Chip gives you.”

Sounded like some sort of political speech. “Thank you.”

“I suggest you stay an extra day in the hospital,” Hilderbrand added. “We'll pay for that. Since it will be your second surgery in eight days, you'll probably appreciate the added rest.”

By that point I felt numb. I could only manage a nod.

Out in the parking lot, I thanked Rhodes more than once. He said he'd send me the bill. We shook hands and parted.

I walked to my car on legs that felt light for the first time in days. After all that had happened, this had gone so easily. I was almost done with the horror. One more surgery, yes. And that wouldn't be fun. But Hilderbrand was right. After that my whole new life awaited.

On the way back home I stopped at my bank to deposit the check. When the teller saw the amount of money involved, her eyes widened. But she managed to keep her business-like cool.

Sitting in the bank's parking lot, deposit slip in hand, I called Sherry and told her it was done. She was happy for me—sort of. She also had to admit she was still scared.

“I know. Me too. But when it's all over, I'll be so glad.”

Mom was waiting anxiously as I walked into the apartment. I spread my arms and turned around. “Do I look richer?”

“No.” She smiled. “But you do look relieved.”

That was an understatement. I could
breathe
. “Let's go out to lunch. At a really nice place. I'm buying.”

We ended up at Evvia Estiatorio, a Greek restaurant in Palo Alto. I couldn't remember ever eating Greek cuisine, but the smell of the food wafted out onto Emerson Street. We followed our noses inside.

Ordering took my full attention. So many interesting dishes to choose from. I looked over the menu, feeling new wonder. A whole world of experiences lay before me. I had so much to look forward to. So much to
live
.

Hard to imagine just eight days ago I'd been immobilized with depression.

We ordered. The server brought the first course.

“I'm so sorry to leave you on Sunday.” Mom took a bite of her classic Greek salad. “But I don't know what else to do.”

“We already discussed this. I'll be fine. I won't even come home from the hospital until Monday. Maybe even Tuesday.”

Mom winced. “At least I can be there when you wake up from the surgery. And the next morning.”

Her flight to Denver left Sunday afternoon.

“I'll be fine, Mom. Really. You've done so much being here for me this week.
That's
when I've really needed you. Look at all you helped me do. We found Hilderbrand. And Patti.”

Alive.

Monday, March 19.

We fell into silence as we concentrated on our salads. Or maybe we were thinking of how far we'd come with each other the past few days.

Mom's expression changed, as though she'd decided to tackle a heavy subject. “When you've recovered, do you think you'll end up moving back to Denver?”

At least it was a question, not a demand. And the subject didn't bother me at all. “I don't know. Maybe. I have the money to go anywhere now. But why go to a place where I don't know anyone? Doesn't appeal to me.”

Sadness washed over me. If only Ryan were still alive—
and
we had this kind of money. We could buy that house we'd dreamed of owning. I'd plant my flowers and bushes all around, front and back.

“You have plenty of friends you left behind in Denver.”

Maybe. “I've lost touch with most of them this past year.”

Mom tipped her head. “Well, at least come visit when you're better, okay? Your friends would love to catch up with you, I'm sure.”

“I will. I'll do that.” For the first time in years the thought of visiting Denver and staying with Mom felt good.

By the time we left the restaurant, closing out the lunch crowd for Evvia, it was almost 3:00. I didn't even feel tired.

Later that afternoon I spoke with the hospital, going over details about the surgery. I already knew the drill. No food or water after midnight. Report to the hospital at 8:00 a.m. Mom would drive me. And whatever day I was discharged, Sherry would pick me up.

All my plans were in place. How perfect they sounded. The final closure of my week of terror, and my months of depression. I didn't want to dwell on the surgery itself—too much angst in that. So I focused on my future. On hope. This time, I didn't even stop to wonder—

What if something goes wrong?

SATURDAY, MARCH 17—SUNDAY, MARCH 18

Chapter 31

Fitful rain fell as we drove to the hospital on
Saturday morning. Fear tried to work its way up my spine, but I wrestled it down. As I checked into the hospital, slipped out of my clothes and into a gown, I fought to stay calm. And I prayed a lot. I didn't doubt my decision. But facing the surgery sent a hum through my veins.

Mom stayed with me until the last minute. Before we parted, she patted my arm. “I'm proud of you, Lisa.”

I looked into her eyes, startled. She'd never said those words to me. “Thank you.” I wanted to say more but . . . couldn't.

They wheeled me into the operating room.

One of my surgeons was the same as before—Dr. Rayner, the gray-haired sixty-something with a round face. The second was someone new. Dr. Edward, a younger man with eyes that reminded me of Ryan.

“Take good care of my brain, Doc.” I lay on the table in the operation room, looking up at the white ceiling. My words trembled. This had to be the worst time, just before going under anesthesia. Every doubt gripped me in its tentacles.

“Don't you worry.” Dr. Edward smiled.

“So you're back for more.” Rayner stuck a needle in my arm. “Must have liked it so much the first time you wanted another round.”

Sure. Something like that.

Did he wonder why I was back? Surely this wasn't normal. But maybe Cognoscenti paid him to do the procedure and not ask questions.

I closed my eyes against the room's brightness. Whatever flowed through the needle was already working. My mind fogged. “Where's the chip?”

“We have it.”

“Take care of that, too.” The words slurred.

“Okay, Lisa, here we go.” The mask came down over me.

This time I didn't fight it. The world thickened . . . gelled.

Blackened.

Chapter 32

Sounds washed over me. Low voices. The swish of a curtain.

My eyes opened. I lay under a blanket.

Thoughts firmed slowly.

The chip.

My surgery—it was done already? Like before, it felt like no time at all had passed.

Maybe they didn't do it. Maybe something happened. They lost the new chip. They couldn't find the old one in my brain.

That was too terrible to dwell on.

I lay there, brushing an imaginary fingertip over my mind. Had the depression returned?

No.

Could I sense the old chip?

I pictured the terrible scenes I knew so well. Patti being choked. Stabbed. Her body in a suitcase. The bag splashing into water. They were still in my head, but no new scenes came. I felt only peace.

Thank you, God, for helping me through.

Time ebbed and flowed. A nurse came to check on me. Then I was in a private room, the bed elevated. Mom appeared.

“Lisa. You okay?” She patted my hand through the blanket.

“Mm-hmm.”

“How does your brain feel?”

Almost sounded funny. “Fine.” My tongue was thick. The room oozed cotton. “Did they . . . gimme drugs?”

“You're doped up, all right. Just sleep it off. I'll be here.”

“No, first I havta talk to Sherry.”

“I've already called her. She knows you're okay.”

“I wanna talk to her.”

Mom got Sherry on the line and handed the phone to me. My arm felt heavy to lift. “Hi, Sher.”

“Hey, there. Sheesh, you sound half dead.”

“Thanks. Back at me. Back atcha. Huh?”

Sherry laughed. “Smarter than ever, I see.”

“Uh-huh. Think I need sleep now.”

“I can believe that.”

“Bye.” I closed my eyes. Vaguely, I remember Mom hanging up the phone.

For the rest of the day I floated in and out of sleep. By dinnertime I felt more alert and was ready to eat something. I wanted to shout with relief. But I could only lie there, trying to take it all in.

My mind was so quiet.

“Did they have to shave more of my hair?” I asked Mom. She'd stayed all day to watch over me.