Hidden Passages

Chapter 5

After music therapy that consisted of tunes from the past, songs by Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Perry Como and others of the Big Band era, we were brought to the entertainment lounge again to watch TV. Virginia acted as if nothing had happened to her, tapping her feet to the tunes, but Bill and Nurse Hanover still seemed upset and kept quiet through the hour the music played.

Dr. Murray hadn’t attended the music therapy session. But when we were all seated in front of the TV, a tall, silver-haired man in a white lab coat entered the room. Nurse Hanover introduced him as Dr. Murray’s partner, Dr. Grayson. She passed him the patient folders that the doctors used to record our flashbacks and daily sessions. Glancing down at the one I assumed was mine, he said, “I see we have a new member today.” He looked up from the folder and smiled briefly in my direction, a detached stare similar to Murray’s. “Welcome, Miss Phelps. I realize you’ve worked with Randolph, I mean, Dr. Murray. You may find I do things somewhat differently.” I wondered what he meant as, without waiting for my reply, he switched on the TV and waved goodbye to the nurse.

We watched a few episodes of the Netflix series of Those Were the Days and then Dr. Grayson asked us a round of questions about them. I didn’t notice any differences in his methods and was getting annoyed by having no say in my schedule, what I watched, or what I read. I couldn’t understand why everyone was complying. I wondered if they’d been given a d**g or if they had a personal reason for volunteering for the memory d**g trial like I did.

Instead of joining the others at dinner, Dr. Grayson asked me to come to his office. He promised it wouldn’t take long but needed to ask me a few questions. I wondered if I was in trouble and felt like a student following her principal down the hall where I’d meet my parents who’d been called down about my cheating on a test or chewing gum in class. I admonished myself for imagining I was in school like Virginia.

“Please come in,” Dr. Grayson said as he opened the door opposite Dr. Murray’s office. I hesitated in the doorway of the small room that could pass for a closet. Grayson waved me in. “C’mon, I won’t bite.”

The walls of his office were covered with the doctor’s diplomas and a large painting of a sailboat floating on a placid lake. The window next to it was open a c***k. Grayson had framed photos on his desk of two children, a boy and a girl, and one of him with a woman in her late thirties or early forties.

“My grandchildren and daughter,” he explained taking a seat at the desk. “I’m a widower, but I’m lucky that they visit me often. Have a seat, Lauren.”

Now more relaxed, I took his invitation and dropped into the leather chair next to his desk.

Grayson took my folder that he’d brought to the room and laid it out on the desktop. Opening it, he said, “I’m sorry to delay your dinner, but this is the first opportunity I’ve had to review your chart, and I need to ask you some things that Dr. Murray may have overlooked.”

“That’s fine.”

He smiled, and I began to see the difference between him and his partner that I hadn’t recognized upon our first meeting.

Grayson looked back down at my folder. “Randolph, I mean, Dr. Murray, has noted that you had a traumatic experience as a young child and have since seen several professionals including a hypnotherapist to help you remember the details of that ordeal.”

When he looked up at me, I nodded. “That’s correct.”

“So, what you’re hoping this clinical trial will do for you is to recover those lost memories.”

“Yes.” I wondered where this was leading.

“Lauren, you understand that you have a form of PTSD. The Memory Makers’ d**g may not be effective on this condition.”

My psychiatrist had diagnosed my memory loss the same way. “I understand, Dr. Grayson, but I’m willing to try it. I don’t feel I have anything to lose at this point.”

He paused as if trying to find the right words to reply and then closed my folder. “I know this must mean a lot to you, and I sincerely hope we can help you.”

“Thank you.”

He stood up. “My pleasure. That’s all for now, Lauren.” He picked up my folder and tucked it under his arm. “Let me take you back to dinner.”

After we’d had dinner, the same no frills chicken and fish that Maureen had promised, and watched a movie before being dismissed for the day, I asked Brian on our way out of the building what he’d meant by us keeping our motivation in mind. The others had already driven away in their rental cars. I noticed that Bill and Virginia were picked up by an uber that Nurse Hanover called for them. Maureen had told me that Bill was able to manage in his own place, but Memory Makers had gotten Virginia a live-in nurse to help with her daily activities.

Brian shrugged his muscular shoulders at my question. Instead of answering me, he asked, “Aren’t you being paid, Lauren?”

I paused. “Paid? I thought all we received was free meal and board plus the opportunity to help Memory Makers market the cure for memory loss.”

He smiled. “I guess those are incentives. I’m not sure what the others are receiving, but they’re paying me a thousand dollars upon completion of my participation in the program.”

I was surprised. “They never mentioned any monetary reward to me. I would think we would all be paid the same.”

He stopped by the similar Taurus parked next to mine. The only difference between his rental car and the one I was given was the color. His was blue. He leaned against the car jingling the keys. “Like I said, I don’t know what everyone is getting. Maybe they’re paying me because I don’t have any memory issues.”

I thought about myself but didn’t say anything. “Maureen doesn’t either,” I pointed out.

“Yes, but she has a family history of it. I don’t. She could be receiving the same as me, though. Like I said, I don’t know. I have no idea why you aren’t being paid.”

“Maybe because there’s a difference with me. I volunteered for personal reasons. I don’t know about you and the others.”

“Some of us were selected. I had a personal reason, too.”

I hesitated to ask what that was because I was afraid that I’d have to reciprocate and tell him about Patty.

“Look,” he paused as he opened his car door and then reached into his pocket and withdrew a business card. “If you’d like to talk more about this, here’s my cell number. I don’t mind you calling.” He slipped me the card and got in the car.

Back at my apartment, I added Brian’s number to my cell phone contacts just in case I’d need it in the future. I found it strange that the card he’d given me was so simple. It only included his name, Brian West, and his phone number against a plain beige background. I wondered what his personal reason was for joining memory makers and hoped he might reveal it as we got to know one another better without seeking a similar confidence.

My mind was taken off this thought as I opened the email on my laptop computer and sat browsing through it at the small desk Memory Makers had supplied for me. There was lots of spam, as usual, but one message stood out. It was from Rick. The subject line read: “Lead Found on Corey.” I opened it saying a silent prayer that it was good news.

Lauren, We may have found a lead on Corey. An anonymous woman called his parents’ house and said they saw a baby boy meeting his description with a tall, bearded man at a 7 Eleven in Hicksville. We spoke to the manager there and showed him Corey’s photo. He said he wasn’t sure but that it may have been him. We also asked him to meet with Ellen to draw up a sketch of the man accompanying the baby. I’ll keep you posted on our progress. Hope all is well with you.”

Lauren, We may have found a lead on Corey. An anonymous woman called his parents’ house and said they saw a baby boy meeting his description with a tall, bearded man at a 7 Eleven in Hicksville. We spoke to the manager there and showed him Corey’s photo. He said he wasn’t sure but that it may have been him. We also asked him to meet with Ellen to draw up a sketch of the man accompanying the baby. I’ll keep you posted on our progress. Hope all is well with you.”I closed the email and took a deep breath. Ellen was the profiler for the department. She was an excellent artist who could draw down to the smallest detail what witnesses described. She’d helped Brian and I find several missing kids, the lucky ones that were found alive. Mostly they were victims of parental a*******n where a non-custodial parent, often a father, took the law into his own hands by snatching his child. I knew this wasn’t the case with Corey because, when we’d first gotten it, both parents were living together and equally disturbed by their baby’s disappearance.

I didn’t bother recording the email in my night journal. No one needed to know about my private business. Laying down in bed after my night preparations, I kept thinking of Corey. My mind visualized the one-year-old, the sandy tufts of hair, blue twinkling eyes. I hoped the lead proved fruitful and only wished I was still there on the case.

After a long time of restlessly trying to sleep, wondering if I’d have another dream of the Shadow Man or if my first injection would finally start to work and I would have a flashback, I began to doze. I was awoken suddenly from my light, dreamless slumber by the ring of my cell phone that I’d placed at the side of my bed. Thinking it was Rick with more news, I grabbed for it.

A rough voice that could’ve been male or female answered my “hello.”

“I remember you,” the gravelly voice said. “You and Patty.” Then it clicked off.