Double Blind (9 page)

“Lisa?”

“Hmm?” My voice wavered.

“What's wrong?”

Tears spilled from my eyes. “Everything.”

She inhaled a sharp breath. “Did the chip stop working?”

A hysterical laugh choked me. “More like it's working overtime.”

“What do you mean?”

I fought back the tears. I didn't want to lose it, not now. Then a thought hit me. I was actually handling this. As scary as the visions were, I'd been able to face Jerry and Ice Queen, demand they do something. I never would've had that kind of strength during my depression. If I'd been given a placebo
and
now had to deal with these visions—I'd be a total basket case.

I stared across the living room, the realization filling me up. That chip was no placebo.

Had Jerry and Ice Queen lied to me? Or had their boss lied to them?

“Lisa!”

I jumped. “Sorry. I'm here.”

“Talk to me.”

The phone.

I pulled the receiver away from my ear and stared at it. How long had I been gone from the house—ninety minutes? By the time I got to Cognoscenti, they already suspected I'd be a threat. They'd prepared that false placebo document. What if they'd sent someone to bug my apartment?

Okay, that
was
paranoid. Still . . .

“Lisa, please.” Sherry's voice drifted up to me.

I pulled the receiver to my ear. “Sherry, I have to go right now. I promise I'll call you back.”

“But—”

I punched off the line.

Sadness speared me. This was no way to treat my best friend. But I pushed it away for the moment, staring at the receiver in my hand. Could I take it apart? Would I even know what to look for?

My fingers tightened. This wild way of thinking—it was a bad sign. Very bad. Maybe the chip
was
a placebo. A tainted one.

Whatever it was, I had the right to be paranoid.

But really, Lisa, a tapped phone?

I set the receiver down and slumped over the counter. One thing I did know—the visions came from the chip. But how to prove it? No one at Cognoscenti would listen to me now.

My stomach growled, but I couldn't think about eating. I shuffled to the couch and sat down. Bent over, elbows on my knees.

Two choices rose up. First: do nothing. Just work through the terror, hoping the visions would eventually fade, even though it felt like they'd really happened. But even if that were true, the murder was done, no changing it. What was I supposed to do about it now? If I did try to do something, I could end up in a lot of danger. Of all people, I was the last one to place myself in the sights of a man who would choke a woman.

Second choice: do something. Somehow get help for myself, and stop the Empowerment Chip from going on the market. But how? I was one person against a corporation funded by millions of dollars. And Ice Queen had made it clear if I said anything to anyone, they'd label me a crazy, vindictive woman. Plus they'd have the paper to prove my chip was nothing but blank.

I pictured Ice Queen's face as she first read the placebo document. And Jerry's expression. Their reactions had seemed genuine. If that was true, and if my chip wasn't a placebo, then their boss, Mr. Vice President, had lied to them—and me. Maybe some investor had forced him to. Any investor would have a lot of money at stake.

If the company had lied to me, what about others in the trial? Maybe I wasn't the only one in trouble. What if the chip was severely flawed, and they needed to silence anyone who complained? Someone in the company who believed in the chip enough, who wanted to make millions, could convince himself it was the patients' fault.

Imagine the product in my brain released into the general market. The thought made me want to throw up.

I fell back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. If only Ryan were here. He'd know what to do. I'd sit on his lap and hug him, as I had so many times after my miscarriages. And he'd wrap his arms around me, pressing his love into my skin, my heart, until I was able to think again. Until we could talk things out.

From the end table I picked up a framed picture of my husband. He was standing on the Golden Gate Bridge, feet apart, wind ruffling his hair. His arms were crossed, a satisfied grin on his face. It had been our first sightseeing trip after moving to the Bay Area.

My heart panged. If Ryan were here, I wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.

I put the picture back down.

Cognoscenti against Lisa Newberry. An elephant against a gnat.

The phone rang. I barely heard it, too busy staring at the carpet.

If the murder was real, who was the woman?

A second ring.

There'd be news about the homicide—with her picture. I could search online. If I found her picture, I'd
know
I was right.

But what if the crime didn't happen here? That house could be anywhere. And the murder could have been long ago.

A third ring.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the scenes. Seeking any clues about the time or the place. The kitchen in those visions had looked modern. But nothing more than that came to mind.

The fourth ring cut off. The phone's auto answer clicked on.

“Lisa!” My mother's commanding voice filled the apartment. My head jerked up.

“What is going on? Get back to me right away. Some company in your area called about you. Name starts with a
C
or
K
. The man did not sound nice, and that's an understatement. He told me to give you this message:

“‘
Don't
do it.'”

Chapter 10

I jumped up and hurried to the counter to snatch
up the phone. “Mom?”

Silence.

“Mom?”

She'd hung up.

I lowered the receiver and stood there, hearing myself breathe. A company name starting with
C
or
K
. Cognoscenti. Sending a threatening message.

Why had they called my mother instead of me?

Of course they knew about her. Cognoscenti knew everything about me after my screening interviews. I'd told them of her charm and beauty, how she always looked so perfectly put together. How she'd tried to make me just as perfect. I told them about the drawing I'd given my mother when I was five, only to be lectured on how I could improve it. They knew about her coldness—a mom who rarely hugged or said “I love you.”

Cognoscenti also knew how much Ryan had helped me deal with my mother. He'd believed in me, loved me for who I was. When
I
didn't even know who I was. I'd come a far way from being under my mother's thumb. Still, things were hardly great between us. To this day I tried to tell myself I didn't care what she thought of me. But I did.

My hand hovered over the receiver. I pulled it back.

I'd never given Cognoscenti my mother's number. Only her name and where she lived. For the required emergency number I'd listed Sherry. Yet Cognoscenti hadn't bothered her. They'd called my mother. They'd taken the time to track her down. But why? To intimidate me?

Mom had said
he
. Jerry? One of my original interviewers?

I picked up the phone and punched in Mom's number. The second ring cut off.

“Lisa!”

“Hi.”

“What's going on? Who is this company?”

Now
what was I supposed to say? “Someone I interviewed for a job with.” The lie slipped out so easily. My conscience twinged.

“Why are they calling
me
?”

“I don't know. Probably got your number mixed up with mine in their file.”

“No, he meant to call me. He addressed me by name.”

He did? Maybe it was Jerry Sterne, and Ice Queen was in on it. Maybe they were better actors than I thought.

“This isn't about a job interview, Lisa, and I know it. He sounded far too menacing. Are you in some kind of trouble?”

If she only knew. “No.”

“What does ‘don't do it' mean?”

“I don't know.”

“I think you do.”

“Mom.” My fingers tightened around the phone. “Forget it.”

She sighed. “I'm terribly worried about you. So far away. Why don't you move back home? There's nothing to keep you there.”

Except for distance from her—

The black suitcase lay on the floor. The man unzipped it hurriedly. I saw his right hand, the dragon ring on his finger. He threw back the cover.

I swayed. Held on to the counter for support.

“Lisa, are you listening to me?”

Where was my tongue? “Look, Mom, I need to go. Sorry they bothered you. I'll tell them not to call you anymore.”

I hung up.

Through the man's gaze I saw the dead woman, lying on his kitchen floor. Her eyes were open and fixed. Blood stained her silk blouse. The knife was not in sight.

He dragged the suitcase next to her. Bent down and thrust an arm behind her neck. Raised her torso. He forced his other arm under her knees and lifted. Her ragdoll body folded in his grasp. The man dropped her into the suitcase with a heavy thump.

I gasped and whirled around. That sound—it was right here.

The woman's shoulders fell out of the suitcase on one end, her feet out the other. The man used both hands to turn her on her side. He forced her knees up toward her face. Pushed her body down until her head rested inside the bag.

He stood back and studied her. Then he closed the cover over the suitcase and zipped it.

The
whir
of the zipper vibrated right through me. I sagged against the counter and hung on for life. Gritting my teeth, I fought to get hold of myself. He'd put her in the
suitcase.
How awful. How heartless.

Would he bury her next? Would I have to see that, too?

Come on, Lisa. Pull it together.

For a long time I shivered over the counter. The fear heated, then melted like running wax. I was left to cool. Then harden.

My unsteady gaze landed on Jerry Sterne's business card. Maybe I couldn't stop the visions, but I didn't have to put up with threats from Cognoscenti. Before I lost my courage I jabbed in the digits. His voice mail picked up. I barely waited for the beep after his message.

“It's Lisa Newberry.
Don't
you call my mother anymore with threats, you hear? And if you didn't do it, some other man there did. You can send this message up your chain of command:
Leave my mother out of this.
Clearly you thought you could intimidate me by using her. Guess what—all you've done is made me madder.”

I clacked the receiver hard into its base. A moment passed as I glared across the apartment, wondering what to do next.

My stomach groaned with hunger, and tiredness hit. But I couldn't eat or rest now. Anger still coursed through me, and I needed to channel it. I had to do something.

That poor woman—dumped in a suitcase. And she'd fit so easily. She'd really have to be petite. Shorter than I thought.

A realization surfaced. I raised my chin. These were details I could use. Black suitcase + woman + murder. Maybe I'd find something online . . .

I headed into the second bedroom to fire up my computer.

Chapter 11

The computer took forever to boot up. I rested my
forehead against my hand, trying to gather all the details of the murder in my mind. Then I pulled out a pad of paper. I needed to write down everything I knew so far. What the furniture in the room looked like, and the kitchen. The woman's description and her clothes. The suitcase. Had I seen a brand name on it? I closed my eyes, trying to remember.

Nothing.

My Google home page came up on my monitor. I kept writing—everything I'd seen, and in the order the details had come. I looked over my notes, filling in blanks until I couldn't think of a single thing I'd missed. Finally I turned to the computer.