Hidden Passages

Chapter 2

The ad on f*******: caught my attention. It popped up on the right-hand side of the page like the multitude of other ads that people pay for to advertise their products to an international market. The software customizes these ads, so you see more of the ones that might interest you. Since I belonged to a few f*******: cat-themed groups and had purchased cat supplies, jewelry, and clothing online, I often saw sales for cat items in my news stream. The ad for Memory Makers was different. “Having trouble with your Memory? Memory Makers can help. Click here for a confidential evaluation and see if you’re eligible to participate in a trial for our breakthrough memory loss treatment.”

“Having trouble with your Memory? Memory Makers can help. Click here for a confidential evaluation and see if you’re eligible to participate in a trial for our breakthrough memory loss treatment.”How could f*******: have known that I’d been trying to recover a lost memory? Despite the weird coincidence, I clicked on the link. It directed me to a Google form that asked for my contact information: address, email, and phone number. There was a disclaimer in small print releasing f*******: from any connection with Memory Makers or their products.

After completing the information, I received an automatic response in my email thanking me for contacting Memory Makers and promising that I would hear back from them within forty-eight hours. I heard back the next day with a message left on my answering machine that I played when I came home from work.

“Miss Phelps, this is Dr. Randolph Murray. I received your response to our invitation to be screened for our memory loss or, should I say, memory retrieval d**g trial. Call me for further details about our program.” He left a number that I dialed with my cell.

I was surprised that, instead of a receptionist, Dr. Murray himself answered my call.

“Randolph Murray, may I help you?” His voice sounded cultured with that touch of coldness professionals often exuded.

“Dr. Murray, this is Lauren Phelps. I’m returning your call returning my call for more information about Memory Makers.” I hadn’t meant to add a giggle at the end of my reply. I was afraid he would think I was a nervous schoolgirl, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Ms. Phelps. So nice to hear from you. I understand you responded to our f*******: ad. To be eligible to participate in our trial, you would need to travel to offices in Los Angeles for an interview and some testing. If you’re accepted into the trial, you’ll be housed near Memory Makers free of charge for three months while we evaluate your response to the medication. There won’t be any compensation except the knowledge that you will helping to put a d**g on the market that would help memory loss sufferers. And, of course, you would benefit yourself from the treatment, although there are no guarantees. Would that interest you?”

I paused considering this information. Having spent my whole life in New York, I’d never traveled to California but knew it was a half country away. If I had to spend three months out there, I would need to leave my six-month-old kittens and put my own work on hold.

Looking back, I don’t know what madness possessed me to agree to these conditions. I only knew that I couldn’t live any longer than the twenty-five years I’d already spent not knowing who killed my sister.

“Yes, Dr. Murray,” I said, “I would definitely be interested in participating in your d**g trial.”

* * *

Opening the door to the apartment Memory Makers rented for me after I passed their initial tests and received my first injection, I found no comfort in the bare walls. There was nothing to make my stay pleasant. No purring kitten greeted me or even a fish. I wasn’t allowed any pets or to place any decorations or furnishings other than what was provided. I didn’t mind this because it was only a temporary home. Soon, I would just be using the place to sleep because stage 1 required that I ate all my meals in the Memory Maker’s building. In addition, I would need to spend my time there watching scheduled movies and tv shows and reading books from their library. I would have to keep all my activities recorded in a daily journal they provided. All this was to monitor my response to the memory-inducing injections. It was a wonder I wasn’t required to sleep at Memory Makers. However, I would need to record my dreams, too.

While I was away, my colleague and partner, Rick, was taking over my cases and keeping in touch with me through regular phone calls. The precinct was more than accommodating about the personal leave I’d requested. The only guilt I felt about taking this wild goose chase to California was abandoning the kids whose fate lay in finding them before they were brutalized, sexually molested, or murdered like my sister had been.

Why I chose the kidnap division of the Nassau County Police Department was simple to understand. Patty and I had been kidnap victims that summer when I was three and she was five. I escaped but not without mental injuries of that day that I blocked as a result of the trauma I’d endured.

There was a blinking red phone message on my answering machine. I dumped my coat and purse on a chair and played it back. It was my mother. “Lauren, are you okay? I’ve been trying to reach you. Call me.”

Besides Rick, my mother had called every day to check on me. Ever since she lost my sister, she’d kept a tight reign on me, as if she was afraid that I would suffer the same fate as Patty and disappear from her life. That overprotectiveness combined with my father’s guilt at not having protected his daughters which drove him to becoming an alcoholic, ended my parents’ marriage.

I picked up the phone and dialed across the country. It was 7 p.m. in California, so it would be 10 p.m. in New York. When she answered on the first ring, I said, “Mom, it’s me. Sorry I didn’t call you back yesterday. I’ve been busy.”

“Lauren, you know how I worry.” Her voice was strained.

“Yes, but I’m doing fine. How are you? How are Harry and Hermione?” I hoped that asking her about my kittens would lessen her anxiety.

“I’m doing well considering I miss my daughter. Your cats are wild, but it’s nice having young ones here after Kitty and Little Girl.” Kitty and Little Girl were the mother and daughter cats she’d had for nearly twenty years before they’d died two years ago.

“Thanks for taking care of them.”

“You’re welcome, but when are you coming home?” She’d asked that question every day since I left a week ago.

“I don’t know, Mom. It’s going to be a few months.”

“Months? What are those people doing to you?”

“Mom, I told you. It’s a clinical trial, but if it works, I could bring Patty’s killer to justice.” My voice broke on my sister’s name.

“I don’t like this. It sounds dangerous. Patty’s gone. We need to accept that, but I still have you. If I have to fly over there and take you home, I’ll do it.”

“Mom, please. I’m twenty-eight years old. It was my decision to come here and mine to stay.”

A deep sigh echoed over the line. “I’m tired of arguing with you. You’re right that you’re an adult, but I’m still your mother, and I love you. Don’t forget that.”

Tears suddenly misted my eyes, and my voice choked. “I know, Mom. This is just something I have to do. Thank you for your concern, but I’m being careful.”

“I hope so, dear. Please take care.”

“I will, and I love you, too, Mom.” I hung up.

The phone rang as soon as I placed it down. It was Rick. He sounded weary which made me feel guiltier. “Hi, Lauren. How’s it going?”

“I had my first shot today.”

“Did it work?”

I let out a short laugh. “It takes time, Rick. They tell me that I probably won’t recall much until after the third injection. What about you? What’s going on with Corey MacAllister?”

His sigh had my heart racing. I thought, for a moment, he was going to tell me they’d found the toddler dead. Instead he said, “There’s been no leads or phone calls to the parents.”

From prior cases we’d worked together, I knew that was a bad sign, one that might mean the boy was no longer alive. “I’m sorry, Rick. Is there anything I can do?”

He paused before he replied. “You have your own problems, Lauren. You’re on personal leave now, so don’t worry about this case.”

“I can’t help it, Rick. I feel like I’ve abandoned you.”

It was his turn to laugh, but it was shorter and tighter than mine. “I’m a big boy. I can handle things here. Now get some rest and don’t worry. I’ll keep you posted on Corey, and you let me know how you make out with your memories.”

“Okay,” I agreed halfheartedly. “You get some rest, too. You sound tired.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need much sleep, and I hate to waste the time.”

I knew he was conscious about the minutes slipping away while Corey was a captive.

“If there’s any way I can help, let me know.”

“I already told you that I have it all under control. Goodbye, Lauren.”

The dial tone that greeted me before I could reply sounded harsh to my ears. I’d gotten him angry. Guilt spilled over me in a wave.

Frustrated, I spent the rest of the night on my laptop going through Corey’s file that I’d made a copy of before leaving New York. At 2 in the morning, I finally shut off the computer and dragged myself to bed leaving behind three empty bags of potato chips and a coffee-stained mug that had been refilled several times.

As soon as I hit the pillow, I was asleep. Then the dream came. The one that had haunted me from a young age. This time, it had another new spin.

I was in the sandbox with Patty. Our father came out of the house to tell us he was waiting for an important call. “You girls can stay here and play.” He spoke to Patty, “Make sure your sister stays with you. I left the door open in case you want to go in and watch TV.”

I was in the sandbox with Patty. Our father came out of the house to tell us he was waiting for an important call. “You girls can stay here and play.” He spoke to Patty, “Make sure your sister stays with you. I left the door open in case you want to go in and watch TV.”“Who’s calling you, Daddy?” Patty asked, her blue eyes wide.

“Who’s calling you, Daddy?” Patty asked, her blue eyes wide.“No one you know, Baby Doll. I’m taking the call upstairs. I won’t be able to see you from there, but I’ll be as quick as possible.” And then he was off, striding with his long legs back to the house.

“No one you know, Baby Doll. I’m taking the call upstairs. I won’t be able to see you from there, but I’ll be as quick as possible.” And then he was off, striding with his long legs back to the house.The dream changed scenes abruptly. Patty and I were tied up. I was crying, pushing at the ropes that bound me.

The dream changed scenes abruptly. Patty and I were tied up. I was crying, pushing at the ropes that bound me.“Be quiet, Laurie. He’ll hear you.”

“Be quiet, Laurie. He’ll hear you.”Then he appeared, a black shadow across the floor. I stopped crying. I was frozen. Large, hairy-backed hands reached out and untied Patty. “You first,” he said in a deep, commanding voice.

Then he appeared, a black shadow across the floor. I stopped crying. I was frozen. Large, hairy-backed hands reached out and untied Patty. “You first,” he said in a deep, commanding voice.I woke up with a start. For a moment, I couldn’t recall where I was. The dark, unfamiliar room closed in on me. Then I realized I was in the apartment Memory Maker’s had rented for me and remembered that I had to record all my dreams. I turned on the light, reached into my nightstand drawer, and removed the Memory Maker journal, a copy of which I also carried in my purse. This one was for dreams and flashbacks. I jotted down the date and, glancing at the clock next to the bed, noted the time: 3 a.m. I wrote quickly trying to bring everything back, but the memory was fading. I still hadn’t seen the Shadow Man’s face, but I’d seen his dark, hairy hands and his dirty fingernails.

After recording what I could, I tried to sleep but found I needed to keep the light on at its lowest setting to mimic a nightlight. In just a few hours, I would be meeting with the five other people involved in the Memory Maker’s clinical trial. Up until now, I’d spent all my time with Dr. Murray except for today when I’d met Nurse Hanover who’d given me my first shot. She was just as robotlike as him and reiterated that I probably wouldn’t remember much until I’d received all three injections. Part of me still wanted to back out, afraid of what I would learn if the Memory Maker’s d**g proved to be effective in bringing back my memories. At the same time, I wanted to know more than anything who the shadowed man with the hairy hands was who appeared in my dreams and who’d killed Patty, ruined my life, and broken up my family.