Double Blind (18 page)

“Whether the chip was a placebo or not, you're alleging that somehow it's been tainted with unwanted data. The memory of a murder.”

I could just imagine Bremer returning to his station and telling other officers about this report.
“No way you're gonna top this one . . .”

My back straightened. “It matters if the chip was real, but they're telling me it's blank just to get me to shut up. That means they
know
something's wrong with it.”

“But how do you suppose the data got on the chip?”

“I don't
know
.” I shoved my chair back from the table. “I only know what I see in my head! And now it's not just me anymore. Now someone's threatened me—twice. And he's been in my apartment. And now my
mother's
in danger.”

Mom patted my hand. “It's okay, Lisa.”

“No, it's not.” I stood up and paced across the kitchen. “I just want this fixed! I want to understand what's happening.”

“Okay.” Bremer held up his hand. “I know it's upsetting that we don't have any answers yet.”

We.
Yet.
Two words I could cling to. I dredged myself to a stop and leaned against the sink.

Bremer gathered his notes and placed the pen back in his pocket. “I'll need to get a tech over here to dust your door and the counter for foreign prints.”

“Foreign?”

“Not yours or your mom's. We'll have to roll both your prints too, for comparison.”

Great. Now
I
would be fingerprinted like some criminal.

“What about your friend Sherry?” Mom raised her eyebrows. “She let herself out of here last night.”

And now we had to fingerprint Sherry, too? Double great.

The policeman rubbed his cheek. “If you have reason to believe her prints might be on the door, it would be helpful.”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Can you at least send the tech tomorrow? I don't want to stay here tonight.”

“That's not typical procedure. We like to gather evidence as quickly as possible. Before it can be tainted.”

Like my brain chip.
“We won't
be
here to taint it.” My voice thinned. “Really, I just can't deal with any more right now.”

Bremer took a long breath. “All right.” He rose. “I'll contact you in the morning on your cell phone. I'll also be talking to Agnes Brighton.”

Mom stood. “What about running the address of that man's house? Surely it won't take you long to learn who lives there. And if he drives a black SUV with a license plate that begins with 6WB.”

The officer eyed her, as if she was telling him how to do his job.

My mother caught the look. She poured on the charm once more. “Thank you for coming. So much. I don't know what we'd have done without your help.”

“Yes, thanks a lot.” I walked him to the door, my skin crawling.

When he stepped into the hall I bolted the door behind him. “Let's get out of here, Mom. I just have to go . . . somewhere.”

We threw a few things into a small suitcase. Mom slid her computer into the laptop bag.

Outside the apartment building the night had a thousand eyes. We hurried to Mom's car and locked the doors. Was the man here, somewhere? Watching from a window? Behind some car or tree? My head nearly swiveled off my neck, checking all around.

“Where do you want to go?” Mom started the engine.

“Get to El Camino and turn left. We'll find a hotel somewhere.” I couldn't even think of turning right. Of heading one foot closer to that man's house.

On the way I called Sherry and told her everything.

“Lisa.” She sounded so scared for me. “This is unbelievable.”

Wrong word, but I knew what she meant. “I know. Wish I could see you.”

“You want to come over?”

“Thanks, but I know there's no room for us there. We're headed to a hotel. But I miss you.”

“Miss you, too.”

We fell silent. “Oh, Sherry, do you think you can give the police your fingerprints tomorrow?” I told her why they needed them. “You'll probably have to go down to the station.”

“Okay. I can go while Rebecca's in school.”

“What about J.T.?”

“I'll figure it out.”

I hung up to help Mom find a hotel. We ended up checking into a place in San Mateo with free wireless. We got into our room—and hunger hit. We'd never eaten dinner. No wonder I felt weak. But no way I wanted to sit in a restaurant, where watching eyes could see me. We ordered room service. I lay on my bed, waiting for the food to come, utterly spent. Mom turned on her computer, itching to see if she could find out who owned the house at Ten Amethyst Lane. But she couldn't get on the Internet.

Dinner arrived within thirty minutes. Mom abandoned her work while we ate.

When we were done Mom picked up the tray to set it in the hall. I hung back, hands clenched, while she opened the door.

Was the man out there? Was he in the hotel?

Mom closed the door and bolted it. “All right.” She headed back to her computer. “I
will
get this wireless working.”

If we found out the man's name, then what? Part of me didn't want to know.

Mom had to talk to the front desk to get on the Internet. By the time she succeeded it was after 10:00. Adrenaline and exhaustion swirled in my veins.

I drew up a small armchair beside Mom at the desk.

“Okay.” Her fingers were poised on the keys. “Ten Amethyst Lane, Atherton, California.” She typed the address into Google and hit enter. Over 200,000 hits came up.

My shoulders sank. “It's so many.”

“We only need one.” Mom started with a realty site. Just like that, a picture of the house appeared.

“That's it!” I leaned toward the computer.

Mom looked around the site. It listed features of the property, its selling history and other houses in the neighborhood. We could click and drag on the pictures for a three-sixty view of the street. But we saw no owner's name.

“Maybe the owner isn't public information in California,” Mom said. “Do you know?”

I shook my head.

She sighed. “Let's try another one.” She opened a city data site for property valuation. Again we saw a picture of the house. “Look.” She pointed at the screen. “It was last sold in 2010 for four-point-eight million.” She scrolled down the page—and suddenly there it was in bold caps. The name of the owner.

William Hilderbrand.

Chapter 22

I stared at the name, blood gelling in my veins.

Mom took a hard look at my face. “You know who he is, Lisa?”

My tongue would barely work. “CEO of Cognoscenti. Inventor of the Empowerment Chip.”

Air seeped out of my mother's throat.

“You know that letter I got, accepting me into the trial?
He
signed it.”

A million thoughts drilled my brain. I didn't even know where to start. “That man we saw at the house. It couldn't be him. I researched Cognoscenti before signing up for the trial. I saw a picture of William Hilderbrand then. He looks like he's in his mid forties.”

Mom absorbed the information.

“
Why
is it him?” My voice rose. “I knew when I saw the house that he was rich. But this . . . Hilderbrand's worth
millions
. He'll crush me. I can't imagine the police even approaching him.”

This was too much. No way could I handle it.

“And besides, why would
he
kill someone? And how could it end up on a chip in his own company? No wonder they're trying to silence me. It's not just the chip, it's the founder!” I buried my head in my hands.

Had Hilderbrand made that threatening phone call to Mom himself? Had he written that note? Had
he
broken into my apartment? I couldn't imagine it.

But I couldn't have imagined any of this.

A stunning realization hit. My head came up. “I didn't think the killer knew that I know about him. But if it's Hilderbrand, he does.”

He would kill me too.

It was surprising I was still alive.

Mom drew a long breath. “Maybe he doesn't know. Maybe it's what we thought before. You threatened Cognoscenti, so they're fighting back by insisting your chip is blank. They want to shut you up. But they have no idea about this murder.”

“But I told Jerry and Clair about it. If Hilderbrand heard that, he
knows.
”

Exhaustion and fear clawed me. Every bone in my body felt beaten. I fell back in the chair. “I have to stop. I can't fight this man. Whether Hilderbrand knows now or finds out later—I'm dead.”

His hands around her throat . . . Grabbing the knife . . . The suitcase sinking in black water.

I had to leave town. Right away, with no forwarding address. I could call Jerry Sterne and apologize, tell him everything was fine now. It would be a message to Hilderbrand that I was backing down.

Maybe, just maybe, he'd leave me alone.

But I knew he wouldn't. Every minute he'd think of me, still alive, knowing the truth that could bring him down. I'd jag through my days, wondering when he would show up. Grab me in a parking lot one night.

How could I live like that?

I curled up in the hotel chair, darkness crusting around my head. I should just let it smother me. Maybe I was
meant
for depression. Meant to lead a miserable life. Maybe the brain chip
was
a placebo. And now even the power of suggestion was slipping away.

“Lisa.” Mom put her hands on my shoulders. “It'll be all right.”

I shook her off. It
wouldn't
be all right. And I didn't want to hear platitudes. Somehow I managed to push to my feet. “I'm going to bed.” My voice cracked.

Mom let me go.

Soon I huddled on my side, the covers over my head. I could barely breathe like that, but I didn't care. All I could do was pray.
Please, God, take it all away.

But I heard no response.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 14—THURSDAY, MARCH 15

Chapter 23

Wednesday morning I woke at 8:30, bleak and sore.
All night I'd dreamed about Hilderbrand killing the woman. Putting her in the suitcase. Dumping her off the boat.

I turned over in bed to see Mom at her computer. Dressed and in makeup as usual. I buried my head beneath the pillow.
No.
No more digging online for me. No more trying to fight Cognoscenti, chase down justice for an unknown victim. I just needed to get out of the Bay Area.

Somehow I'd learn to deal with the memories. Maybe in time they'd fade.

“Lisa, get up.” Mom's voice sounded grim. “I found something.”

I groaned.

“You'll want to see this.”

No, I don't.

“I found a picture of William Hilderbrand.”

“I've already seen his picture.”

“Bet you haven't seen
this
one.”

I should at least get up. I had to go to my apartment and start packing. What about all my furniture? Maybe I should just leave it. Get out in a hurry.

Where would I go?

Mom would drag me back to Denver.

“Lisa.”

“Yeah, Mom, I hear you.”

With a heavy sigh I forced myself from bed. Stumbled over to the desk and fixed my eyes on the monitor.

Mom pointed. “Look.”

It was him, all right. A confident-looking man with sandy hair, dressed in a black tux and bow tie. His arm was draped around a beautiful dark-haired woman in a floor length gown.

I froze.

“It's her, isn't it.” Mom looked up at me.

I nodded, speechless. Stepped back to collapse in the armchair.

She lay dead on the kitchen floor, blood oozing from her mouth . . .

In the picture with Hilderbrand she looked so
alive
.