Lost Identity (14 page)

As they dined in the radius of soft candlelight, and listened to the dinner music provided by a small combo, Trish was determined to hold on to a momentary release from a past that she didn’t remember, and a future that was as blank as her memory. She found Andrew to be a perfect dinner date. As they sipped glasses of white wine and enjoyed baked fresh lobster
tails, their eyes met in a silent communion that shut out everyone else in the room. When Andrew smiled at her, she felt whole and complete, and had the unreal wish that the evening would last forever. Emotionally drained, struggling with the jagged pieces of her life that didn’t fit together, the present moment was the only sure thing within her grasp.

As they left the restaurant, Andrew noticed a dark blue coupe in the lot, the same model as the one that had been parked on the road near his house. He would have dismissed it as coincidence if the coupe hadn’t appeared a few minutes later trailing behind them on the beach road as he drove slowly back to the cottage.

Keeping his eye on the rearview mirror, he began asking himself if it was the same car that had been parked earlier near his house, and then showed up in the parking lot where they had dinner? There was no doubt about it. A dark blue coupe was keeping a sedate distance behind them, and the hairs on the back of Andrew’s neck prickled.

“What’s the matter?” Trish asked, as she watched a tightening of his lips.

“Nothing,” he lied as his expression hardened.

What in the hell was going on? Why were they being followed?

Chapter Nine

“Why are you suddenly so uptight?” Trish asked, puzzled by the sudden change in his posture. “Is something wrong with the Porsche?”

“No, it’s fine.” The last thing he wanted to do was put her on edge. He could be wrong about the car behind them. Maybe it was a coincidence.

He deliberately slowed down, inviting the coupe to pass him, but it didn’t. Then he sped up, passing several cars, but in less than a minute the same dark blue car was in his back mirror.

“Are you playing some kind of game?” Trish asked puzzled.

“Just getting the feel of the power in this baby,” he answered, keeping his tone light. “She’s a beauty, all right.”

Trish chuckled, pleased that he was enjoying himself. She fell silent, and gave herself up to the momentary peace of just being with him. She had left a message for Janelle that she’d be home late in the evening, and just the thought that Curtis might show up was enough to make her determined not to hurry back.

As they neared the turn off to his cottage, Andrew’s
thoughts raced ahead. Would the dark coupe pull into the same parking spot on the beach road? If it did, it was a sure bet that Trish had been followed from Havengate, and that someone had kept them company all evening.

He turned off the paved road, watching in the mirror to see if the blue coupe went by. When it slowed and pulled out on the same overlook as before, quickly dousing its headlights, Andrew knew he’d been right. Someone had been tailing them. Now the question was—what to do about it? Calling the authorities was not an option. The driver of the car hadn’t done anything illegal, and putting Trish through that kind of torment would be devastating for her.

As Andrew pulled in beside his own car, he made a decision. Without turning off the engine, he turned in the seat, leaned over and lightly kissed her cheek. “Thanks for a great evening.”

His behavior startled Trish. The obvious dismissal was a complete surprise, and his urgency to be out of the car was indisputable. She felt as if he’d found the whole evening too trying and couldn’t wait to end it.

She was at once disappointed and a little miffed. “You seem to be in an awful hurry, all of a sudden.”

“I’ve got a lot of work waiting for me,” he said, moving quickly away from her, and getting out of the car. “I’d better get at it.”

“Well, thanks for dinner. I’m sorry I took up so much of your time,” she answered crisply.

“You’re going straight home aren’t you?” he asked in a rather demanding way as she got into the driver’s seat.

She smothered back a sharp retort. Suddenly she was too tired to try and understand his behavior.
Something had gone wrong, but she didn’t know what. The roller coaster of emotions that she’d endured since she got up that morning were taking their toll.

“Janelle is expecting me,” she told him in a false bright tone. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of thinking she’d been expecting to extend their time together—maybe, even stay the night.

“Good night, then.” He closed the door, and gave her a wave of his hand as she turned the car around and headed back to the beach road.

He waited for a long minute, just in case she glanced back, before he ducked into the front seat of his own car. Keeping his eye on the Porsche as it turned onto the highway, he waited to see if the blue coupe was going to follow. As soon as he saw it pull out of the overlook, he drove out of his driveway and onto the beach road, following at what he hoped was an inconspicuous distance as Trish drove back into Manhattan.

As Andrew had suspected her tail kept her in sight through all the city traffic, and was behind her when she approached her apartment house. Apparently unaware of the two cars following her, she turned into the underground parking lot and disappeared into the bowels of the building.

“I’ll be damned,” Andrew swore as the coupe slowed down in front of the building. Andrew kept his gaze fixed on the car, wondering what the driver would do now that the Porsche had disappeared. When it continued slowly on down the street, Andrew followed.

As the traffic thickened, Andrew moved closer and caught a glimpse of a young man at the wheel. He was talking into a cell phone, and didn’t seem aware of
Andrew’s scrutiny, but in a few blocks, he made a quick left turn, almost leaving Andrew behind.

Sure that he’d been spotted, Andrew sped up, wondering what to do next. The decision was made for him. The blue coupe turned into the parking lot of an all-night convenience store, and the driver got out and headed into the building.

Andrew parked so that he could watch the people traffic in and out of the front doors, and a few minutes later the tall, rangy young man reappeared with a carton of cigarettes under his arm.

As he walked toward the coupe, Andrew quickly got out of the car, covered the distance between the two cars almost in a run, and met the man face-to-face as he prepared to unlock his car.

The man stared at him, and Andrew could tell from his startled expression that the guy recognized him. His eyes widened in his narrow face, and his Adan’s apple jumped in his throat as he swallowed hard.

“I think it’s time we met, don’t you?” Andrew crowded him against the car, prepared to use his fists if the man resisted.

“Hey, take it easy, fellow. No need to get all riled up.”

“Then tell me what in the hell you’re up to.”

“Nothing. Nothing.”

Andrew grabbed the collar of his shirt and tightened it around his thin throat. “I want to know why you’ve been tailing the Porsche.”

“Business,” he croaked. “Just business.”

“Whose business?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Maybe I ought to call a cop. I’ll file a charge of harassment and then maybe you can tell me.”

“All right. All right. You’ll cost me my job if you bring in the police.” His face was growing red, and Andrew eased up on the choking collar.

“Talk.”

“I work for the Decker Detective Agency. And I was on an assignment. That’s it.”

“Whose your client?”

“I can’t tell you that. It’s confidential. I could lose my job.”

“How long are you going to keep your job if you end up in jail because you’ve fouled up, and are facing a harassment charge?”

“You can’t make that stick,” he said belligerently.

“Maybe not, but it won’t really matter, will it? Just think about the publicity. Who’d want to hire anyone from your agency to do surveillance? Not a good advertisement if the newspapers get hold of the story. And they will. I’ll see to that.”

Andrew was surprised at himself. Any kind of macho behavior wasn’t his style, but his concern for Trish made him ready for a physical confrontation if necessary. His determination must have been communicated to the young private eye.

The young man’s slender shoulders slumped. “All right. It was Mrs. Darlene Reynolds. She thinks that Patricia Radcliffe is meeting her husband on the sly. He’s supposed to be missing, but she thinks the whole disappearance is a setup. All I was supposed to do was follow her and see if her husband showed up. I already reported that the only person she met was you. And you don’t fit the photo she gave me.”

“And that’s it?” Andrew was prepared to learn something about the unnamed terror responsible for Trish’s nightmares and fear. There was nothing in this
situation that related to her pent-up anxiety. She wasn’t even aware that she was being followed.

“I can show you my private eye credentials, if you don’t believe me.” He started fishing in his pocket and drew out his wallet.

Andrew took a quick look at his authorized certification, and nodded. “All right. Just remember I have your name and if you, or anyone from your agency, shows up again I’ll have your butt in a sling. Got it?”

“What am I going to tell the boss?”

“That’s your problem.” Andrew called back over his shoulder as he walked away. “You’ll think of something.”

Back in his car, Andrew was faced with his own problem of what to do. How could he leave things the way they were with Trish? The memory of her expression when he abruptly ended their evening stabbed him with regret. She deserved to know the truth, that Darlene had hired a private eye to follow her. Besides, Andrew wasn’t at all sure that he’d put an end to the woman’s harassment. There were plenty of private eyes for hire. As soon as he got home he’d call Trish and explain.

Janelle answered the phone, and when he asked to speak to Trish, there was a slight hesitation. “I believe Patricia has retired for the night.”

“She’s only been home a short time,” Andrew countered. “Would you please tell her that Andrew would like to speak with her?”

“Perhaps you’d better call back tomorrow, Andrew.” Janelle’s tone was that of an efficient secretary who was used to carrying out the orders of her boss.

“What’s going on?” he demanded.

“Nothing’s going on. She just doesn’t want to talk
to you. I’m sorry, Andrew. I don’t know what went on between the two of you but she made it clear that if you called, she didn’t want to be disturbed.”

Andrew tried to control his impatience. Obviously Trish was ticked-off about what happened, and seeing the whole thing from her viewpoint, he wasn’t surprised. But damn it, he’d like to get the whole thing settled before the rift got any wider between them.

“Why don’t you call back tomorrow?” Janelle suggested briskly.

“Yes, I will. Thank you.” Andrew hung up the receiver a little more forcefully than Janelle deserved. After all, the woman was just following instructions.

Andrew cursed himself for not having gone to the apartment to talk with Trish face-to-face. No telling what kind of scenarios she was building up in her mind. He’d only been trying to protect her by not letting her know that she was being tailed, and look where it had gotten him.

He was tempted to call Janelle back and tell her the whole story so she could relate it to Trish, but all the things he wanted to say to her shouldn’t have to go through a third person. He’d have to wait until tomorrow, and go by the apartment when he was in the office for the day.

T
RISH’S INDIGNATION
over the way Andrew had treated her had a beneficial effect. It stiffened her resolve to quit holding back from accepting the truth about herself. In her heart she knew that she had been avoiding picking up the strands of Patricia Radcliffe’s life because of her romantic feelings for Andrew. Maybe it was childish to tell Janelle that she didn’t want to be disturbed if he called, but she desperately
needed to strengthen her resolve not to cling to Andrew or the refuge he had provided. It wasn’t fair to drag him into the twisted mesh of her life. If he had wanted her to stay and spend the night, she would have accepted the invitation without hesitation. At the very least, they might have shared some intimate moments in front of the fire and shut out the world for a few hours. If only she could have gone on being Trish, none of the miserable things she knew about her life would have touched them. But wishful thinking didn’t change anything. She was Patricia Radcliffe with a life to live, and an insidious fear to conquer.

T
HE NEXT MORNING AT
breakfast, she told Janelle, “I want to go to the office with you today.”

“Good.” Janelle looked surprised and pleased. “You don’t have to rush things, though.”

“Yes, I do. I don’t want to stay in this limbo of not knowing anything. Even if I have to start from square one, I can relearn everything again. Fortunately, my intelligence and command of nonpersonal knowledge has not been affected. And there’s always the hope that my memory will come rushing back.” She strengthened her resolve. “Then I’ll be able to fill in all the blanks.”

Janelle patted her shoulder as she got up from the breakfast table. “Okay then. Let’s go fight the dragons.”

Trish looked over her extensive wardrobe, trying to decide which summer outfit would be the best for running the gauntlet at the office. No doubt people would be lined up to greet her, a little nervous themselves, wondering if it was really true that she didn’t remember any of them.

Trish had about decided on a white linen two-piece dress when she saw an opaque garment bag pushed to the back of the closet. Curious, she lifted it down. Then, opening the zipper on the bag and drawing out the contents, she made a discovery that sent the floor rocking beneath her.

A wedding dress! New, beautiful, encrusted with pearls and delicate lace, the garment shouted a designer’s original.

In a daze Trish carried it over to the bed, sat down with the exquisite gown spread over her lap. As her fingers touched the beautiful fabric, tears swelled up in her eyes. A deep ache went bone deep. How could she forget something so momentous?