Memory Reload. Rosemary Heim

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СКАЧАТЬ the process. The base seemed to be a solid piece set into the bottom of the bag. Four small pads punctuated each corner. He fiddled with each one, humming with surprised satisfaction when they loosened.

      Down the hall, everything was quiet. His eyes snapped open. He held his breath, waiting. When the shower turned on, he blew out a sigh of relief. Let’s hope she likes long showers.

      The pads unscrewed easily. The solid base lifted off revealing a false bottom. There was only about an inch of space, but it was ample room for the small black book he found.

      He lifted the thin volume from its hiding place and set it on the table. Using the very tips of his fingers, he opened the black vinyl cover. Letters and numbers filled the first page. He flipped through several more pages. Something had been written on all of them.

      This didn’t look like AJ’s record book of locations and settings. He flipped open her spiral-bound notebook. Her notes, easily decipherable, were written in a back-slanted looping hand.

      A neat, angular handwriting filled the pages of the mystery book with nonsensical combinations of letters and numbers. About halfway through, the cursive writing changed to printed block letters. Neither sample matched AJ’s penmanship.

      He tugged on his earlobe. Whoever the author was, the contents had been sensitive enough to prompt the use of a code. He could think of a few reasons something like that would be hidden, none of them good.

      AJ, sugar, whatever it is, you are in it deep. And it’s not gonna get better anytime soon.

      Whatever the information might be, it had been recorded in a code too complex for him to decipher at first viewing. He’d need some time to do a proper job of it.

      The water shut off in the bathroom. He cursed. His window of opportunity had just slammed shut. The little black book would have to wait.

      He pulled a sandwich bag from one of the counter drawers and slid the book inside, zipped the seal and slid the package into his pocket. He screwed the bottom panel back into place and set about repacking the camera equipment.

      Moving quietly around the kitchen, Ryan tidied up, then settled back at the table with his laptop. He logged on to the Internet and began surfing a few of the medical information sites. Outside, he could hear waves brushing onto the shore. Down the hall, the bathroom door opened.

      Chapter Three

      Her shower left the bathroom steamy. Too steamy to stay hiding in there any longer. It had taken forever to get rid of all the grit and sand. As for the pain—no matter how long she’d stood under the pounding spray, the pain refused to leave.

      When she opened the door and peeked out, cool air rushed into the room. A chill shivered over her skin and she pulled the huge bath sheet tighter around herself. Down the hall, she could only see Ryan’s shoulder and arm as he sat at the kitchen table with his back to her. She padded across the hall to the guest bedroom, slipped inside and closed the door.

      Whoever had decorated the room had had nice taste. The pale blond wood furnishings blended with the palette of soft colors used on the walls and bedding to give the room an airy, cool feel. A bowl of potpourri sat atop the dresser, scenting the room with a tangy citrus fragrance. Small handcrafted treasures nestled among the books on the shelves of a bookcase. A small bowl filled with an array of colorful semiprecious stones sat next to an elegant stained-glass lamp on the bedside table.

      The overall effect was soothing, offering a sense of peace, of sanctuary. Everything looked so…homey. As though someone actually lived there, rather than a professional decorator had laid out a magazine spread.

      She trailed her fingers over the quilted bedspread. Even that had the look of having been lovingly handmade from favorite bits of fabric.

      Another shiver danced over her naked shoulders when she encountered the neatly folded pile of clothes. Were they Ryan’s? Or did the owner—Jamie—keep a supply of extra clothing tucked away for his guests along with the extra toothbrushes?

      She turned from the bed and came face-to-face with a stranger.

      No, not exactly a stranger. She faced a large wood-framed mirror hanging on the closet door. That was the only reason she recognized the woman watching her with guarded eyes. No sense of familiarity stirred. No flood of memories rushed forth to fill in the blanks.

      The woman just stared back. She concentrated on the reflection but recognition still eluded her.

      Why can’t I remember? She stepped closer, leaning in to search for some clue, some detail that would trigger her memory. AJ? A vague sense of recognition stirred as she tried connecting the name Ryan had dubbed her with the reflection in the mirror. She traced the outline of her face on the cool glass. Unfamiliar gray eyes stared back. She leaned closer, looked deeper into the eyes.

      Nothing. Nothing except emptiness that went deep, all the way to her heart. She backed away from the stranger in the mirror and sank down on the edge of the bed.

      Tears threatened but she forced them back. She’d cried enough already. In the shower where the running water washed away the tears and the sounds of her quiet sobs. And earlier.

      She had awakened on the beach to the sound of her own sobs. Her dreams were a jumbled confusion of images, none of them making sense, all of them fading as she became aware of her surroundings. Then she’d realized the dreams weren’t the only things fading from memory. She had no memory of anything. A void existed where her identity should have been. She had no idea why she had been sleeping on a beach, or even where that beach was.

      “AJ, are you okay?”

      She jumped at Ryan’s voice coming from the other side of the bedroom door. “Yes, I’m fine. I’ll only be a few more minutes.”

      “No rush, sugar. We can head into town to drop off that film whenever you’re ready. If you feel up to it.”

      “Sure. Fine. That’s…fine.” She lied. She wasn’t fine. How could she be with her mind so empty?

      No. Not empty, not exactly. It was more like a drawn curtain, transparent enough to let shadowy images through but too opaque to allow any real detail to show.

      She sensed rather than heard Ryan’s quiet steps as he retreated, leaving her alone in the strange room, staring at her reflection, which should have been familiar, but wasn’t.

      She wanted to trust him. Her instincts told her she could, but why? All indications were that they’d never met, yet she’d followed him here, to a strange house, with barely a moment’s hesitation. Who was he?

      Her heart sped up at the memory of his touch. When they shook hands, it had been magnetic. The jolt hadn’t startled her so much as the strange sense of familiarity had. She didn’t know him, but there had been a sense of recognition on a deeper, more elemental level, as though they were kindred spirits. She hadn’t experienced anything like that since…since…when? Who? Someone else, someone important to her. The knowledge slipped further behind that blasted curtain.

      She rubbed her temples, working at the tightness that wrapped around her head like a huge rubber band. Every time she tried to remember, her head ached. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, relaxing with each slow exhalation, willing the pain to leave.

      Standing, she rolled her shoulders, raised her СКАЧАТЬ