Lost Identity (15 page)

The question was in her eyes as she looked up and saw Janelle standing in the bedroom door. Trish moistened her lips. “It’s Curtis, isn’t it?”

Janelle nodded, came over and sat down beside Trish.

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure. Everything was all set. I went with you when you brought this dress. It’s lovely, isn’t it?” she said with a wistful edge to her voice. “The invitations were ordered and everything. Then you changed your mind.” There was a slight edge of censure in her voice. “You gave Curtis back his ring, and canceled everything.”

“How long ago?”

“A couple of months. He didn’t accept your decision then, and he still doesn’t. I think he’s hoping that all of this will help bring you closer together.” She eyed Trish. “Do you think he’ll be able to rekindle the romance? Maybe there are some deep feelings left between you.”

Trish looked at her blankly. “I don’t know the man.”

“Not at all? I mean, don’t you remember anything about what went on in the office? Outside the office?”

Trish shook her head.

Janelle patted her arm. “Well, don’t worry about it, maybe everything will come back today.”

T
RISH’S VISIT TO THE
office was as painful as she had anticipated. Atlantis Enterprises occupied a suite of offices in a Manhattan skyscraper near Central Park. Janelle kept a guiding hand on Trish’s arm as they crossed the busy lobby to a bank of elevators.

Trish had decided to wear a two-piece, teal blue dress that was styled in simple but flattering lines. She had twisted her hair into a fashionable roll at the back of her head, and when she checked her appearance in the mirror, she felt that she would, at least, pass inspection in her appearance.

“Our offices are on the thirty-second floor,” Janelle told Trish with a reassuring smile as the elevator sped upward. “I’ve alerted everyone that you’re coming, and asked them not to make a fuss. I’ll show you your office, and you can take it from there. We want to do whatever makes you comfortable. Whenever you’re ready to leave, let me know.”

“I’m ready,” Trish said wryly.

Janelle laughed as the elevator slowed to a stop at their floor. She wore a light summer suit, and looked every bit the successful career woman. Trish admired her poise and air of self-confidence.
Was I ever that sure of myself?
Trish wondered, trying to still the fluttering in her stomach.

The minute that they pushed through the front glass
doors into the waiting room, it was obvious that Janelle’s request not to make a fuss of Trish’s appearance had been ignored.

Two attractive receptionists at the outer desk leaped up, and one of them came rushing around the desk to hug Trish. The other woman announced into an intercom, “She’s here!”

The next minute the whole secretarial pool was circling around her.

“Welcome back, Ms. Radcliffe.”

“Great to see you!”

“We were worried.”

Their faces swam in front of Trish like a camera roving over a crowd of strangers. Their bright, friendly expressions were a mockery to the dead feeling she had inside.

As quickly as Janelle could, she maneuvered Trish down the hall. “Your regular secretary is taking some time off for personal reasons,” Janelle told Trish. “We have a temp.” She nodded at an older woman sitting at a secretarial desk outside a plush office. “Keep everyone out, Agnes,” she ordered and swept Trish by her and into the office.

As Janelle closed the door behind them, Trish felt as if she’d run a gauntlet, and for a moment, she just stood there, trying to catch her breath.

“I’m sorry about that,” Janelle apologized. “It’s just that everyone was ready to go a memorial service, and now here you are, in living color.” She searched Trish’s face. “Are you all right?”

“I guess that depends upon your definition of all right,” Trish answered dryly. How could she explain how totally inadequate she felt to someone as competent as Janelle?

“Does anything seem familiar?” Janelle prodded. “Any of the people? This office? The view?”

Trish walked over to a polished executive desk and let her fingers touch the smooth surface.
I’ve spent hours at this desk and I don’t remember even one of them.
Slowly, she sat down in a swivel chair behind the desk, and with a detached sense of a visitor, surveyed the neat placement of everything on it. Instead of touching anything she just folded her sweaty hands on the desk. There was one photograph in a leather frame. Recognizing herself, she stared at a slender, older man standing beside her.

“My father?” she asked, and Janelle nodded.

She could hear voices in the outer office, and echoing noises from the street below. Looking around the spacious office, she studied the expensive furnishings which she must have chosen. A conversational grouping of a white leather sofa and two chairs were set around a coffee table holding a fresh bouquet of flowers and a silver tea set.

How many cups of tea have I poured sitting there?
she wondered.

Janelle had remained silent, waiting for Trish to say something. Both of them jumped when there was a buzz on the intercom. Trish automatically reached for a button, and then froze as a spurt of joy flooded through her. It was a small thing, but she’d remembered. Instinctively she’d responded correctly to the signal. It was the only thing that had happened since her arrival at the office that made her feel she might belong here.

“Yes, Agnes,” she answered, remembering that Janelle had addressed the secretary by that name.

“I know that you didn’t wish to be disturbed,” the
woman apologized, “but there’s a policeman here who insists on seeing you, Ms. Radcliffe.”

Janelle moved quickly to the door. “I’ll take care of it.”

“No,” Trish said quickly. “I’ll see him.”

Janelle looked as if she were going to argue, and then shrugged. “Okay. If you’re sure you feel up to it.”

Lieutenant O’Donnel was a heavyset man in his early forties. He had receding gray hair, a round face, and glasses, which were perched rather clumsily on his generous nose. There was nothing intimidating about him, and Trish found herself relaxing the minute he introduced himself and held out a soft thick hand for a shake.

“Well, now, it’s more than a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Radcliffe. We don’t have many missing person cases that end so happily. I just need to ask you a few questions to close up the file.”

“Why don’t we sit over here?” Trish motioned toward the sofa and chairs, and then gave Janelle a questioning look. “You don’t need to stay unless you want to.”

“Why don’t I just leave the door to my office open in case you need me? My office adjoins yours on one side and Perry’s on the other. It’s a time-saver not to have to go out into the hall to talk with one another,” she explained. “Curtis chose an office at the other end of the hall.” She winked at Trish. “He likes his privacy.” Then she gave the detective a pointed smile. “I’m sure the lieutenant won’t keep you very long your first day back.”

“Not long at all.” He nodded readily.

Janelle left and the policeman settled down in one
of the leather chairs. “Nice,” he said patting the soft arms. “Must have cost a pretty penny.”

Trish gave him a noncommittal smile as sat down on the sofa. She also knew he was just trying to set her at ease, but she also knew that his report was going to take her back over the same bewildering circumstances that still had no answers.

He began with routine questions, making sure that the report the hospital had given him was correct. He accepted her state of amnesia as justification for leaving a lot of the form blank. He seemed to just want to get her case off the active list, and she didn’t even realize how subtly his questioning began to change. Suddenly they weren’t talking about her anymore, but about Perry Reynolds.

She stiffened as he chewed thoughtfully on the end of his pen for a moment. “Let’s see, the two of you disappeared at the same time. During the storm, was it?”

“I don’t know.”

“No, of course not. Sorry about that. We do know he was your partner in this company. I suspect you saw a lot of each other—but, of course, you don’t remember that.”

The way he said it, the smile on his round face didn’t reach his eyes.
He doesn’t believe me.
The shock left her momentarily speechless.

“I have a missing person’s report on Perry Reynolds filed by his wife.” He pulled out another paper from his briefcase. “She says here that she’s sure he was meeting you on the day he disappeared—the day that both of you disappeared,” he corrected himself. “It’s kinda puzzling, isn’t it? You show up nearly drowned on a beach, and he doesn’t show up at all.”
He peered at her, over his glasses, waiting for her response.

She knew then that he wasn’t there to fill out a missing person’s report. Lieutenant O’Donnel might not even be with that department. His next words verified her suspicions.

“We’re looking into Perry Reynolds’s disappearance very closely. I don’t think Mrs. Reynolds believes her husband is really missing at all. She’s making noises like she thinks he’s just pulling a disappearing act on her.” He peered over the glasses set crookedly on his nose. “What do you think, Ms. Radcliffe?”

He tried to pose it as a friendly question, but Trish knew that it was a baited hook. Her temper flared. “Mrs. Reynolds has already made her suspicions known to me. I didn’t have any answers for her, and I don’t have any for you.” She was pleased with the strong fiber of her reply.

O’Donnel sighed as he replaced the papers. “I reckon we’ve got a puzzle here, with some of the pieces missing.” As he stood up, he thanked her for her time. “Maybe we can have another chat sometime—when you begin to remember things—if you do.”

Janelle came through the door so quickly that Trish suspected she’d been listening all the time.

“I don’t see how badgering Ms. Radcliffe is going to help anything,” she snapped. “You have the hospital reports. Isn’t the verification from professionals good enough for you boys? Or don’t you understand exactly what amnesia is?”

“Yep, I know. Loss of memory. Sometimes it comes and goes. Kinda convenient like.” He gave
them a nod of his round head. “Good day, ladies,” he said, and left through the door that Janelle was holding open for him.

Curtis was in the outer office as the policeman took his leave. He shot a look at the retreating policeman and then came quickly into Trish’s office.

“What in the hell did he want?” Curtis demanded.

Trish was too sick at heart to answer, but Janelle said curtly, “Lieutenant O’Donnel doesn’t believe she has amnesia. He thinks she knows where Perry is hiding out.”

“Is that true, Trish?” Curtis asked with questioning eyes.

“What in the hell do you think?” Trish snapped.

Curtis and Janelle exchanged glances as if to say, “The old Patricia is back!”

Trish was tempted to walk out of the office right then and there. Only one thing stopped her. Running away was only a solution if you had some place to run to.

Chapter Ten

Curtis walked quickly over to Trish and put his hands on her shoulders. “Honey, the police put blinders on when they’re under pressure to solve a case. Don’t give their stupidity another thought. Just take your time. Everything will work out. You wait and see.”

As he smiled at her, she searched his face. Looking into his hazel eyes and following the lines of his jaw and dark hair, there was nothing in her memory to verify that they had ever been friends—let alone lovers. She mentally stiffened.
This stranger was the man she was going to marry.

She resisted the urge to turn her back on all of them, and admit total defeat. How could she even begin to cope when there were so many unanswered questions? She walked over to the window, staring out at the infinity of tall buildings hemming in the New York skyline.

According to Janelle, Trish had lived all of her life in the city, except for the years she was away at boarding school in upstate New York. This was her home territory. She should have felt comfortable with the cacophony of street noises. Instead, she longed for a quiet beach where the seagulls’ wings and the lapping
and sucking of the relentless surf were the only sounds to break the hushed silence.

She could hear Curtis and Janelle talking quietly behind her, but with a demanding tumult in her own mind, she didn’t even try to overhear what they were saying.

She was startled when Curtis touched her arm. “Honey, Janelle and I agree, you should get out of here. There’s no reason to put you under this kind of torture. We can keep things under control until you’re ready to take up the reins again.”

“It’s too soon for you to be loaded down with business problems, especially with all this other pressure that Darlene and the police are putting on you,” Janelle agreed.

“We only want what’s best for you, Patricia,” Curtis told her in his people-management voice.

Patricia.
Why did she keep feeling that they were talking about someone else when they used that name? Sighing, she lifted her head and replied, “Yes, I think it would be better to save all of this for another day.”
When I feel more like Patricia Radcliffe.

“There’s a nice little French restaurant that is a favorite of yours for lunch.” He hesitated as if unsure how to proceed, and searched her face warily. “If you’re agreeable, we could go there and maybe talk?”

Her first impulse was to refuse, but she knew that sooner or later the history between them would have to be faced. She’d rather hear the scenario about their relationship from Curtis than secondhand from someone else.

“All right,” she agreed. An expression of obvious relief crossed his face, and she realized then how difficult this must be for him. Not only had she broken
off plans to marry him, but now she didn’t even remember him in the vaguest way. His ego must really be taking a beating, she thought. There was every indication that Curtis Mandel was a man used to getting his way, and for a moment that realization gave her a strange sense of uneasiness.

Janelle beamed. “I think that’s a great idea.”