Rita Herron - Memories of Megan

Then she could put the questions in her mind to rest. And maybe she could move on with her life without so many misgivings.

COLE SPENT THE AFTERNOON poring over the case files he’d inherited from Tom Wells.

Amazing, but Wells’s notes on hypnosis seemed familiar.

As did the details and information on three of his patients. Harry Fontaine. Frank Carson. Jesse Aiken.

Just as Wells’s wife Megan felt familiar.

He’d had another flash of an image when he’d touched her earlier today. Before he’d seen her open the card, he had known it had daisies on the front.

But how could he know that? And how could he recognize those files if he’d never read them or met the patients?

Impossible.

Unless he had spoken with Wells on the phone about them? Perhaps they’d consulted since they’d been studying similar areas of work. Maybe he should use some of the hypnotic treatments to try and regain his own memory. He’d have to speak to his doctor about it.

And maybe Wells had told him about Megan. That she liked daisies.

But he doubted it.

Remembering the questions he’d had about his work back in Oakland, he searched the Rolodex, listing the companies affiliated with CIRP until he found a listing for Dr. Frank Chadburn, director of the psychiatric department at Oakland.

He punched in the number. Maybe Chadburn could shed some light on Cole’s life and fill in some of the details about his move to Savannah.

“I DIDN’T THINK YOU WERE working today.” April poked her head into the file room.

Megan glanced up from the folders in her lap, hoping guilt didn’t show on her face. She’d been scanning the charts for anything that might support Daryl Boyd’s allegations. April would simply say the man was delusional, which she knew was true to an extent, but still, the timing of Tom’s death with Cole’s Hunter’s appearance, and the patient’s rantings bothered her. She had heard of a shock treatment similar to the one he’d described that had been used at another facility, but it had been banned. She didn’t know of anyone here who would try to implement it. But she had to know for sure.

Thankfully, she hadn’t found anything suspicious.

“I couldn’t face going home yet, thought I’d clean up the files.”

April frowned. “I know it’s tough, Meg. But you can’t stay here around the clock.”

Megan stuffed the folders back into place. “It’s just that the house is so quiet, April. Not that Tom was there that much before, but…but at least I knew he was coming home.” Even though they’d been separated, it hadn’t seemed final.

Not like death.

April leaned over and gave her a hug. “I know, honey. But it’ll get better. In time.”

Megan stood, her legs and back aching from bending over to reach the lower drawers. “I guess I’ll head home now.”

“You want to grab dinner?” April asked.

Megan shook her head. “I still have a dozen casseroles at home. Besides, I’m not even hungry. But if you want to stop by, I’ll heat one up.”

April shrugged. “Actually I’ll take a rain check. I may have a date later tonight myself.”

Megan arched a brow. “A keeper, I hope.”

April laughed. “Maybe.”

“So who is the lucky guy?”

“I’d rather not say, Meg. I don’t want to jinx it just yet.”

Curiosity niggled at Megan. “Someone from the center?”

April winked. “Now, that’s all I’m going to tell you.”

Megan laughed, fighting irritation. Although she considered the woman her best friend, April could sometimes be secretive.

Just like Tom had been.

She grabbed her purse, ready to leave. Tonight she’d sort through his things, maybe see if she could access his files. And maybe she’d figure out what he’d been hiding from her.

“DR. CHADBURN, THIS IS COLE Hunter.”

“Yes, how are you doing?”

Cole’s fingers tightened around the phone as he focused on the man’s voice. He didn’t recognize it. “I’m settling in. I suppose you heard about my accident.”

“Yes, so sorry, son. You were on your way to Savannah when it happened.”

“So I’ve been told. My memory’s pretty foggy, though.”

“Ah, I see. Well, what can I do for you?”

Cole leaned back in the swivel desk chair and massaged his temple, fighting another headache. “I’m trying to talk to people and see if it jogs my memory. Can you tell me the circumstances surrounding my transfer from Oakland.”

A moment of hesitation followed. Finally Chadburn cleared his throat. “I’m not sure what you mean, except that you’d been in touch with the research center there for months. The facility is much larger, with more cutting edge techniques for treating psychotic disorders. It seemed a natural fit.”

Cole frowned. So it had been a smooth transition.

Then why did he have this nagging feeling that just before his accident he’d been arguing with one of the doctors? Trouble was, he didn’t know if it had been someone from Oakland or CIRP. And he had no idea what they might have argued about.

“I JUST RECEIVED A CALL from Frank Chadburn at Oakland. Cole Hunter called him.”

He yanked his cigarette pack from his pocket and tore open the cellophane. “Damn. What did he want?”

“Chadburn said he wanted to know the conditions of his transfer here. Chadburn stuck to the story we’d worked out.”

“Thank God. You think he suspects something?”

“I don’t know. Hunter claimed he was just trying to jog his memories by talking to people he knew.”

He lit the cigarette, inhaled, tried to calm himself.

“Just keep a handle on the situation. Spend some time with Hunter, make him focus on work. That’s the only reason he’s here, you know.”

“Right.”

“And Wells’s wife?”

“I’m watching her as well.” A job he didn’t mind at all.

But he didn’t like the fact that Hunter had spent the morning with her. Or that he was asking questions. And if he got anywhere near the truth, if he went searching for information about the real Cole Hunter, he’d have to do something to stop him.

MEGAN STOPPED BY CONNIE’S office to pick up the box of items she’d packed earlier.

“You heading home?” Connie asked.

“Yes. How about you? Don’t you need to pick up your son from day care?”

Connie flicked off her computer. “Yeah. After I check on Dr. Hunter, I’ll hit the road.”

“You want me to wait so we can walk out together?”

“No, go ahead. He might need something. You look worn-out, Megan.”

“I am. Give little Donny a hug for me.”

Taking a last look at the closed door where her husband used to sit, Megan clutched the box in her hands and left. But she couldn’t squelch the questions tumbling through her head as she walked down the hall to the lower parking deck. Why did Cole Hunter rattle her so?

The sun was beginning to fade, and the early evening shadows in the garage played havoc with her nerves. Last night she had thought someone had come into her house. Had she been dreaming? Had she somehow opened her window without remembering it or had someone really been there? And if so, who? And why?

Hurrying now, she fumbled with her keys, checking the parking lot for other workers. Odd that the place was nearly deserted when it was only a little past five. Of course, the evening shift had just come on the hospital at three, so she had missed the daily changeover. A footstep sounded behind her and she scanned the area behind her, but saw nothing. The whisper of cigarette smoke drifted toward her.

Her pulse racing, she finally unlocked her SUV and slipped inside. Still scanning the dark spaces of the garage, she locked the car door, then carefully placed the box onto the floor, and started the engine. Heart racing, she threw the car into gear and sped out of the lot. A pair of headlights nearly blinded her as she pulled onto the street. The car swerved and honked at her, then raced on. Megan exhaled a shaky breath and forced herself to lift her foot from the accelerator. She was fine. Safe.