Forget Me Not: A Novel (Crossroads Crisis Center) (9 page)

She had to stop this. Right now. Looking at herself through such a jaundiced eye was self-defeating and destructive. Of course she was worth knowing. She was a child of God. He knew her and she knew Him. She couldn’t be so awful that the entire human race had shunned her.

She wasn’t Benjamin Brandt’s Susan, but she could still be
a
Susan.

She could be
someone’s
wife or mother or sister.

Or not.

But she was definitely someone’s daughter.

But whose?

Not a hint
. She shivered.
Who wants me dead? Why?
She shifted on her seat.
What is my life? Where do I belong? What’s my place in the world?
Lost and lacking answers, she rubbed her cross.

Dr. Harper covered her free hand on the tabletop. “Are you all right, Susan?”

She was anything but all right. “I’m fine, thank you.” Swallowing hard, she looked back to Ben’s computer image. “Mr. Brandt.” She freed her hand and placed it in her lap. “I’m sure, being involved here, you see strange things all the time. From the way my insides are shaking, I’d be surprised if I’ve ever experienced anything strange.” She tingled all over, tense and prickly. “I think I must live a pretty dull life. And I think I must like it that way.”

“I know this is difficult,” Ben said, “but I do have another question, if you don’t mind.”

It was a rhetorical permission request, and everyone at the conference table knew it. Steeling for another barrage, she said, “Go ahead.”

“You have a head injury, and yet you didn’t go to the hospital. I don’t understand why not. When injured, even someone who believes they live a dull life would go to the hospital.” Ben hiked a broad shoulder. “It’s the logical thing to do.”

So now she was illogical too? Acid churned inside her and her resentment burned deeper. She had enough to worry about without him being deliberately antagonistic. His doctors had vouched for her—and, frankly, she was frazzled. Who wouldn’t be? “Excuse me?”

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital? Your head was bleeding—it had to have been to warrant the bandage on it now.”

Resisting the urge to touch the white bandage above her temple, she frowned. The tape stuck to her forehead tugged at her skin, and her patience shrank, razor-thin. “I agree. When injured, going to the hospital is logical. But when you’ve been dragged out of your car and into the woods and beaten to a pulp, you don’t always react logically.” In her own defense, she couldn’t resist a little jab. “Not if you’re human, anyway.”

Dr. Talbot cleared his throat. “Immense amounts of adrenaline can mask symptoms like pain, Ben. Susan probably didn’t feel the head injury—though she needed four stitches, and I expect she’s feeling it now.”

The anesthetic had worn off; the wound burned and, thanks to this conversation, now her temples throbbed too. But his was a reminder to Ben to take it easy on her, and grateful for that, she slid Dr. Talbot a silent thank-you.

“I suppose.” That subtle shift’s hiatus ended, and the hard lines alongside Ben’s mouth softened. He swiveled his gaze to the director. “Peggy, what do we have in the way of a background check on our mystery woman?”

“We’re a bit hampered, Ben, considering she doesn’t know who she is.”

Ben
. Susan studied him. It didn’t suit him. It just wasn’t hard enough for someone so distant. So … removed.

“What about a fingerprint check?”

“Nothing yet.” Peggy shot Susan an apologetic look that was mirrored on Dr. Talbot and Dr. Harper’s faces.

Being discussed as though she weren’t in the room irked Susan. She shifted on her chair, feeling a lot like a goldfish stuck in a bowl. The man was definitely on the warpath, looking for any reason to dispute or debunk her.

Still, she had an unshakable sense that his motive, while insulting, was more like a self-preservation tactic than meanness. And in fairness, she was probably a little hypersensitive right now. Still, he should know that. He was a former counselor who owns a crisis center. Maybe he did know …

How could she know that the root of his attitude was in self-preservation? How could she feel so sure of it? He’d been nothing but unreceptive, intentionally attempting to intimidate her, but—Wait a minute. That couldn’t have anything to do with her. The man didn’t know her any more than she knew him.

Susan
.

Of course. It had to be about his Susan. She shifted positions mentally, put herself in his place, and looked at her showing up here and the surrounding circumstances. The picture looked very different from his side of the table—or from his side of the computer screen.

This was an awful ordeal for her, but it might even be a worse one for Ben. He’d lost his son and wife—a wife who looked like her and used the same name. Naturally he was rattled. He looked at her and saw someone trying to portray herself as his wife—or, considering the visual similarities, worse. He saw his wife returned from the dead …

Susan stroked the little gold cross.

“Peggy?” Ben’s gaze riveted to the cross, and his expression turned to granite. “What is that jewelry at her neck?”

Susan stilled her fingers. The sharp edge in his tone terrified her.

Peggy glanced over. “Susan, may I see your necklace?”

“Of course.” She lowered her hand to her lap.

“It’s a cross.” Peggy shrugged and looked from the necklace to the computer screen. “A gold cross.”

Ben’s face paled, as if every drop of blood instantly drained out of his
head. He paused a long moment. Peggy shot Harvey a curious glance. He shrugged. Lisa Harper mimicked him, though the pen she wiggled between her fingertips stilled.

“Ben, is something wrong?” Harvey asked.

“The cross.” He blinked, then blinked again. “Check the back of it. See if there’s an inscription engraved on it.”

Peggy turned to Susan, silently begging her indulgence. “Do you mind?”

“No, not at all.” Any insight into her life would be welcome. Susan leaned toward Peggy to ease her reach.

“There is one!” Peggy’s gaze danced with excitement. But as she began to read, her smile faded, then quickly morphed to horror. Without a single utterance, she fell silent.

“What does it say?” Susan and Ben asked at the same time. Did the inscription reveal her identity?

Peggy winced, darted a worried glance at Harvey and Lisa, and then finally looked back at Ben. “It says, ‘Susan, Love forever, Ben.’”

Shock rippled over his face and his jaw tightened. He glared at Susan, clearly struggling not to erupt. “Lady, I don’t know who you are or why you’re doing this, but you’d better have a good reason for wearing my wife’s cross.”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She couldn’t think of a single reassuring thing to say.

He swerved his gaze to Peggy. “No one leaves. No one moves.” He shoved back away from the computer and then stood. “I’ll be right there.”

Peggy’s jaw dropped. Clearly she was beyond shocked.

“What’s going on?” Susan asked. “I don’t understand.”

Peggy stammered and stuttered half-formed thoughts Susan couldn’t
decipher. She touched Peggy’s arm. “Slow down and just tell me why you’re upset.”

“I’m stunned.” Her wide eyes echoed her words. “Since Susan died, Ben hasn’t once stepped inside Crossroads. We’ve tried and tried to get him down here and involved, but he wouldn’t have any part of it.”

“So what does his coming here now mean?” Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good for Susan. Not as angry as he’d been on hearing that inscription.

Peggy looked to Dr. Talbot, who shrugged. To Dr. Harper, who didn’t move but whose face went pink.

Peggy grunted and looked back at Susan. “I’m not sure what to make of it.”

“It’s a good sign.” Dr. Talbot nodded, lending weight to his deduction. “For three years, I’ve believed nothing short of a miracle could ever get Ben back through these doors.” He cast a speculative glance at the cross necklace around her neck, then back into Susan’s eyes. “Maybe nothing has.”

Susan didn’t feel like a miracle. She felt afraid. An icy chill settled deep in her bones. How had she gotten his dead wife’s necklace?

Gregory Chessman sat at his desk in his home office, debating whether or not to phone his secret partner and inform him that their problem had resurfaced. He hated to do it. His partner was invaluable at paving the way and keeping law enforcement out of his way during crucial times. And his connections provided the transport needed to get the right people to their right positions to perform their designated duties. Those connections
alone were critical and not apt to be found elsewhere in such a protected position. But beyond all that, Gregory never wanted to relive what he’d experienced three years ago. That text message still haunted him.

Y
OU KILLED THE WRONG WOMAN. DISCUSSION OVERHEARD, BUT THE VICTIM WAS NOT AT THE PARTY
. C
ORRECT SUBJECT IS
B
ETHANY’S NIECE
.

He’d stared at the text message in utter horror. Remembering it now, he broke into a cold sweat. Their sensitive bioterrorism discussion had been overheard, but not by the woman he had identified as hearing it.

No. No, he could not—
would not
—bear the humiliation of admitting such a mistake again. But if his partner discovered the truth, this time Gregory could be putting far more than discovery of this incident in jeopardy. He could end up on the wrong side of NINA.

“Sir?” Paul Johnson walked in. His expression warned of more bad news.

Gregory blanked out his computer screen and braced to receive it. He had worked so hard for so long. Everything couldn’t unravel now. Not now. “Tell me something good.”

“I wish I could.” Paul held a small box in his hand. “Unfortunately, the news is bad.”

The bottom dropped out of Gregory’s stomach. “How bad?”

“We’ve lost the subject, sir.” Paul cringed. “She was in New Orleans, selecting a location for a new center.”

“Is it significant?”

“Just another of her do-gooder projects for kids, Mr. Chessman. Nothing at all unusual about it.”

“I see.” Gregory respected that, being of a charitable nature and especially eager to assist efforts that enabled kids to forge a better life for themselves. He knew the value of that, having received aid early on. Otherwise,
he wouldn’t have survived long enough to earn scholarships, much less his current, admittedly opulent, life.

Paul adjusted his glasses. “Security warned her not to leave the hotel at night—bad neighborhood.”

“Why is she staying in a hotel in a bad neighborhood?”

“To get a firsthand view of what’s going on. That’s typical of her.”

“It’s foolish.” Gregory coughed. “She knows that, I’m sure, but does it anyway.”

“Yes sir.” A hint of admiration actually resonated in Paul’s tone. “Then she just disappeared.”

“What about an APB?” he asked, though Paul would have seen to it that an all-points bulletin had been issued immediately.

“Done within fifteen minutes. Our recruit, Richard—”

Gregory cut him off. “I don’t want to know his name.”

“Of course not, sir. Our recruit is looking for her or her car, but nothing’s turned up yet on either. Our man on the security staff notified us before she left the hotel, but our recruit was too far away to manage a successful intercept. He mapped the grid but failed to find her.”

“Why was he out of range?”

“He’d picked up a lead on Edward and Harry and was tracking it.” Paul’s gaze slid to the floor for a brief second. “It’s my fault, Mr. Chessman. I instructed him not to involve himself. The gang was to handle her. I wanted him to have an ironclad alibi. My first priority was to limit the exposure of anyone remotely close to us.”

Gregory couldn’t fault that reasoning, and he’d bet neither the recruit nor the hotel staff knew who was paying them to monitor the subject or why. That was even better.

Paul plucked a staple from the floor and tossed it into the trash. “Our
recruit is still searching, and he’s hiring trusted help to assist him. I’ve run a preliminary check on the ones he’s taken on so far. They’re reasonable risks, and they know nothing of us, of course. So far, though, it’s as if she vanished into thin air.”

Gregory digested that, pinching his lower lip between his fingertip and thumb. “You’re sure the subject wasn’t aware she was being watched?”

“Positive.”

He leaned forward at his desk and folded his hands atop the blotter. “Then she didn’t just vanish or disappear. She had help.”

“That’s my deduction, sir.” Standing beside the leather visitor’s chair, Paul thumbed the top of a small box he’d been carrying when he came in.

What was in it? “The question is, did she want help, or was it forced on her?”

Paul hedged. “I can’t yet answer that with any degree of certainty.”

Gregory put his odds on force. Edward had to know she’d surfaced. And he had to know that her surfacing not only made her a liability, but made him and Harry greater liabilities too.

Harry wouldn’t connect those dots.

Edward wouldn’t miss them.

Gregory sighed. “Find her, Paul. Now. And shut her up before Edward and Harry make a mess of this too.” Gregory narrowed his gaze. “I’m confident one of our NINA allies made the anonymous call here to warn us, but we’d better cover ourselves now.” He only hoped that caller didn’t prove to be Alik Demyan. “We can’t afford additional complications, particularly not with them. The subject or Edward and Harry could land us in FSCF doing ten to twenty. But NINA doesn’t use prisons. It uses death.”