Chapter Nine

Slade stepped out into the night, Holly right behind him. The top of the stairs were dark, the sky overhead a deep cold midnight blue, the December air frosty and wet with the promise of snow. Slade descended the steps, the day-old snow crunchy under his feet. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs to search the street, knowing that what he feared most wasn’t waiting for them in the dark.

He took Holly’s hand as they crossed the street to his pickup. He shivered, but he knew it wasn’t from the cold. He was scared as hell.

Once behind the wheel, he started the truck and pulled away, watching in his rearview mirror.

“You’re scaring me,” she whispered, turning to look back.

“Sorry,” he said. “Just force of habit.”

But he couldn’t help checking his rearview mirror as they left Pinedale, couldn’t help feeling as though something was after them, because deep inside he believed something was.

No car lights flashed on behind them. But then he didn’t think Dr. O’Brien had had time to round up a couple of orderlies and a straitjacket and drive to Pinedale. There was no doubt in Slade’s mind though, that the doctor was on his way.

Nor did he think they were being followed. At least not in the usual way. What was after them was too hi-tech to use something as primitive as a tail.

Pinedale seemed hunkered down for the night as he drove through the deserted streets. After all, it was cold and late and Christmas Day.

Hard as it was to admit, he knew the fear he felt had nothing to do with Dr. O’Brien, Inez or even monsters dressed like Halloween ghouls. It was the fear he was in over his head. That Holly didn’t need a private investigator. That she needed a shrink. That he was dead wrong and that, by getting her hopes up, he was only going to make things worse.

But he’d heard Inez on the phone. He had the pills in his pocket. Even if the pills didn’t prove what he suspected they would, any fool could see that Holly was in trouble.

Selfishly he wanted the Holly he’d known—and who’d known him—back. And he wanted their baby. If Holly’s memory of the little girl with dimples was real.

Unfortunately, he was smart enough to know that once whoever was behind this found out Holly was starting to remember, they might decide to get rid of the evidence. And that had him running scared.

He couldn’t wait to get to Shelley’s and build a fire. He needed the warmth of his sister’s house tonight. A hard cold block of ice had settled inside him. He’d never felt so cold.

But he had one stop he had to make first. He glanced over at Holly. She sat huddled against the door staring out at the darkness, her face pale in the glow of the dash lights. He wondered what it must be like, having huge chunks of time you couldn’t account for. Doing things that you wouldn’t normally do. And waking up not knowing what you’d done. Or why.

The worst of it was, he didn’t want to believe what was staring him dead in the face. He was one of those missing chunks of time. He wasn’t sure who or what had kept him hidden inside her. And that had him worried. He hoped it would be as simple as the bottle of prescription drugs now snug in his pocket. But he doubted he could get that lucky.

 

“WHY ARE WE HERE?” Holly asked, unable to hide her sudden irrational fear, as he pulled into the hospital parking lot.

He glanced over at her in surprise. “Sorry, I should have told you. I want to find out if anyone has heard from the admitting nurse who was on duty Halloween night.”

“Carolyn Gray.” Holly had a bad feeling about the nurse. One she couldn’t shake. “Do you think—” She hated to even voice her fear. “—that they would actually…kill someone to keep them quiet about this?”

“They stole our child, Holly. That’s kidnapping, a federal offense. But still a step down from murder.” He seemed to be studying her. “Are you afraid to go in the hospital? Because of the commitment papers?”

She shook her head. “Just bad memories.” She’d been fine earlier in the day when they’d come here. She couldn’t explain what had her scared now. She’d never been afraid of the dark. Or hospitals. Or monsters. But she was now.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice as soft as his gaze in the semi-darkness of the pickup cab. “I won’t let them take you back to the Institute. No matter what I have to do.”

Impulsively she reached over to give his gloved hand lying on the seat between them a gentle squeeze. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Thank me when this is all over,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “I haven’t done much to protect you so far.”

They found the head nurse in the break room, sitting at one of a half-dozen round tables, reading. Mrs. Lander, according to her name tag, was a small woman dressed in an immaculate white uniform. Just the way she was sitting, her back ramrod straight and a no-nonsense aura about her, told Holly she would not be easy to work for.

“Yes?” Mrs. Lander enquired, as she looked up from her reading.

Slade showed her his identification. “Carolyn Gray is a key witness in a case I’m involved in. Have you heard from her?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Lander said, a great deal of disapproval in that one word. “She called yesterday to say she had taken another job and wouldn’t be coming back.”

The same day Holly and Slade had gone to Carolyn’s apartment to find it hastily cleaned out.

“You spoke to her yourself?” he asked.

“No, the receptionist took a message.”

“But the receptionist was sure it was Carolyn Gray?” he persisted.

Mrs. Lander looked from Slade to Holly. “The receptionist is new, but the woman called herself Carolyn Gray. Why would she lie?”

Holly wandered over to a bulletin board full of photos, afraid Carolyn Gray might have had an accident like the midwife, Maria Perez.

“You don’t seem surprised Carolyn Gray would leave without giving proper notice,” Slade was saying.

“No.”

“Why is that?”

“Why the interest, Mr. Rawlins?”

“I think she might be in trouble.”

“I think with Carolyn that goes without saying,” the nurse retorted. “Carolyn didn’t take her job seriously. There were times she would leave her post without telling anyone. We often had a hard time finding her when we needed her.”

Interesting. Holly moved along the bulletin board, wondering if Carolyn Gray was one of the nurses in the candid snapshots tacked up there. The snapshots made the hospital look like a fun place to work.

“What do you think the problem was?” Slade asked.

“Men. She liked men, especially doctors. I caught her once coming out of an empty room with one of the doctors.”

“Which doctor?” he asked.

“I really can’t say.” Holly heard the scrape of a chair and turned to see the nurse on her feet. She closed the book she’d been reading. “I really need to get back to work.”

“Can you tell us what Carolyn Gray looks like?” Holly asked. “Maybe there’s a photo of her over here?” She motioned to the bulletin board.

The nurse seemed to hesitate, but walked over to the snapshots. She lifted several that had been tacked over older ones. “This one wouldn’t help you. She’s wearing a costume.”

Holly felt her heart leap in her chest. “May I see it?”

The nurse removed the photo and handed it to her. “It was taken during the Halloween party.”

Holly almost dropped the photograph. In between two other people dressed as monsters was the exact costumed monster Holly had painted.

“Which one is Carolyn?” she managed to ask, surprised her voice didn’t betray her.

Nurse Lander pointed to the monster in the middle—the one from Holly’s painting. “That’s Carolyn. For what it’s worth.”

It was worth a lot. Holly handed the photo to Slade. He looked as taken aback as she was.

The nurse rummaged through the other snapshots on the board, grumbling about what a mess the bulletin board was. “Here’s one of Carolyn. It’s a fair likeness.”

Holly took the photo the nurse handed her. It was of a women in a nurse’s uniform standing behind the admitting desk. Carolyn Gray was a buxom woman, tall and broad-shouldered. In her costume, Holly could have mistaken her for a man.

She handed the photo to Slade.

“Why monsters?” he asked.

“Actually, I think it was Carolyn’s idea,” Nurse Lander said. “She was in charge of the party. She made her costume, which goes to show she has some talent—at least for the hideous. I think she won Most Frightening for it.”

Holly could believe that. She searched the rest of the photos from the party on the bulletin board for the other two monsters, but unlike Carolyn’s costume, the rest were pretty uninspired—and none of them familiar.

“Do you mind if we take these two with us?” Slade asked Lander. “I’d be happy to return them.”

The nurse shook her head. “They’re all yours,” she said with a wave of her hand. She glanced at her watch. “If there is nothing else—”

“Just one thing, Carolyn would have had a check coming so I’m sure she gave you a forwarding address when she called, or at least her new place of work, so you could send it. If she really was the person who called.”

The nurse pursed her lips. “She asked that her check be sent to Evergreen Institute. That’s all I can tell you.” Mrs. Lander swept past him and out the door.

“Sweet heaven,” he breathed, after the nurse left, his gaze coming to Holly.

She nodded, still shaking. “Carolyn Gray was one of the monsters and now she’s working at Evergreen.”

“Do you recognize any of the other masks?” he asked.

She shook her head. The photos had been taken at random and probably not everyone had ended up on the bulletin board—even if they’d all been photographed. Or maybe all the monsters hadn’t been part of the hospital crew that night.

“Anyone dressed as a monster would have had the run of the hospital Halloween night,” she said. “All they would have had to do was dress as monsters.”

“My thought exactly. They could have brought you in and no one would have been the wiser.”

“Except Carolyn. She was at the birth, Slade.”

He nodded. “The always-disappearing-from-her-post Carolyn Gray. You had to have given birth close to the hospital then. Close enough that Carolyn could slip out and slip back in without causing too much notice.”

“And even if she did get noticed, everyone would just think she was meeting one of the doctors,” Holly added. “Too bad we don’t know which doctor.”

 

ONE MONSTER DOWN, Slade thought as he drove to his sister’s. Two to go.

All he needed now was to find out where Holly had given birth. He still didn’t have squat for proof, but there was no doubt in his mind it was all true.

Carolyn Gray was working at Evergreen. Or at least having her check sent there.

He felt even more jumpy, more anxious, after seeing the photos at the hospital. Don’t think there are no crocodiles just because the water is calm, his father used to say.

And the water was anything but calm.

He got out and opened the garage door, then drove inside and waited until the door closed solidly behind them before he felt safe.

“Holly?” She hadn’t moved. Hadn’t said a word since they’d left the hospital. And now she sat staring blindly at the front wall of Shelley’s garage as if…“Holly?”

“I knew one of them,” she whispered.

He didn’t have to ask who she meant. The monsters.

“I remember thinking, ‘My God, I recognize that voice.”’

Sweet heaven. “A man’s or a woman’s voice?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head slowly. “I just remember feeling disbelief. Like, how can this be? Not this person?” She glanced over at him. “Someone I know took our baby. Someone I…trusted.”

Like a doctor, he thought.

As he got out of the truck and led Holly into Shelley’s house, he realized that this monster she’d recognized might also be someone he knew.

He got Holly settled in the spare bedroom, then went downstairs to scare up some dinner. He’d just put one of Shelley’s casseroles in the microwave to defrost, when the phone rang. For just a moment, he thought it might be Inez. But Inez couldn’t have found him that quickly.

He and Shelley didn’t share the same last name. Shelley had been married for a very short time. Her husband had been killed in a motorcycle accident. She’d kept his last name, Baxter.

“Hello?”

Silence.

“Hello?” He felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. His heart pounded even though he told himself there was nothing to fear about a wrong number. Right.

The person at the other end of the line hung up. He stood holding the phone, trying to rationalize his sudden fear. It could have been anyone. It even could have been a real wrong number. Or a bad connection at the other end. It could have been Shelley calling from Tobago.

He started to put the phone down, but changed his mind. He dialed Chief L. T. Curtis, uncomfortable with the way he and the chief had left it earlier and needing someone sane to talk to. That is, if Curtis was still talking to him.

“What do you know about Evergreen Institute?” he asked when Curtis answered, keeping things pretty much as they’d been for years.

If the chief was surprised to hear from him, it didn’t show in his voice. “You finally decided to see a shrink?” the cop asked. “Probably not such a bad idea.”

The defrost timer went off on the microwave. “I’m serious,” Slade said as he hit the Reheat button.

“You’re always serious. Do you have any understanding of the word holiday?” Curtis asked with a sigh.

“Not really,” Slade said, realizing how true that was. “My client spent some time at Evergreen Institute.”

“The case involving the alleged switched babies?”

“Yeah. What do you know about the place?”

“Why don’t you ask your client?” the chief said. “Her late husband started Evergreen Institute.”

“Dr. Allan Wellington?” He couldn’t have been more surprised. Why hadn’t Holly mentioned that to him?

“We’re talking about the same place, right? That place that looks like a fortress off the old road to Butte?” Fenced and gated. Like the condos where Inez lived.

“The place with the stone spires sticking up out of the pines,” Curtis said. “It was once a high-dollar private residence, built by some out-of-stater with more money than good sense—or taste. Dr. Allan Wellington bought it and started the first infertility clinic of its kind in this part of Montana.”

Dr. Allan Wellington. Everywhere Slade turned, he kept running into the doctor. He didn’t believe it was a coincidence. And to make matters worse, Curtis even sounded in awe of the good doctor. Sweet heaven.

“It’s not an infertility clinic anymore, right?”

“No, it’s a funny farm. More like a mountain resort than Warm Springs though,” Curtis said. Warm Springs was where the state mental hospital was located.

“What about a Dr. Parris? Or a Dr. O’Brien?”

“Why the sudden interest in Evergreen?” the chief asked. “What does it have to do with your baby-switching case?”

“Maybe nothing,” Slade said truthfully. He didn’t want to talk about the case. Not yet. “Anything new on my mother?”

“No,” Curtis said too quickly.

Not that he thought the chief would tell him until it was official anyway.

He tried to think of something else to say. “Happy New Year” just didn’t quite cut it. “Well, thanks.” He replaced the receiver, suddenly tired, mentally shot.

He wondered if there was something new on his mother’s case. He knew the chief’s threat was a good one and the last thing he wanted to do was lose his P.I. license. He’d have to be very careful when he started looking for his mother’s lover again.

But right now all he could think about was Holly and their baby. First thing in the morning they’d drive up to Evergreen and see Dr. Parris. No, first thing, Slade thought, he’d have Holly’s pills checked out by a pharmacist to see exactly what they were—and what they were capable of doing to her.

He didn’t relish the idea of going to Evergreen to see Dr. Parris. He was scared about what the doctor would tell him about Holly. But what really had him worried was that Parris or O’Brien might try to recommit Holly. And Slade wasn’t about to let that happen.

The phone rang, making him jump.

“I had some spare time, so I dug out the blood typing the lab did on Holly Barrows and her baby,” a woman said, keeping her voice down as if she didn’t want anyone to hear her. “I’m not supposed to do this but you seemed so worried….”

It took him a moment to realize it was the hospital admitting nurse he and Holly had met earlier. “What did you find out?” he asked, his heart in his throat.

“Mother and baby aren’t related.”

Slade felt his legs give under him. He sat down heavily at the breakfast bar, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re sure?”

“Well, it’s not as accurate as DNA testing, but hey, it’s what they used to use before all these fancy-pants tests. You see, the way it works is this. If the mother has— Look, just trust me. The baby isn’t hers. I’ve got to go. You did not hear this from me. When you pick up the report tomorrow, act surprised.”

“One more question. Were there any other births on Halloween?” He could hear her rustling papers. “That’s odd. No other births.”

“Thank you. You didn’t happen to call earlier, did you?”

“No,” she said. “This was the first chance I got.”

He hung up, shaken to the soles of his boots. The stillborn male infant wasn’t Holly’s. Wasn’t theirs. Their baby could be alive! And now, he had enough evidence to get a court order to open the casket if it came to that.

He took a couple more deep breaths, just trying to deal with the fact that the baby buried in the Wellington family plot wasn’t his. He felt weak with relief, weak with fear.

Knowing didn’t help them find their baby. It just proved Holly had been right.

He turned at the sound of footsteps behind him. Holly appeared in the kitchen doorway, her wild mane of dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, her face looking freshly washed and shiny clean sans any makeup.

He felt as if struck by lightning. For just a moment he let himself hope— But when his gaze locked with hers, he could see that there was still no recognition of what had been between them. No memory.

He tried to hide his disappointment. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he said brightly. “I hope you’re hungry.”

She nodded, looking uncomfortable. “I heard the phone.”

He tried to think of a way to tell her without just blurting it out. “The hospital called. One of the nurses decided to check the blood typing for us.”

She paled, one hand reaching out to grip the counter top.

“The baby wasn’t yours.”

Her face relaxed in a swell of relief, her eyes filling. “I was right.”

He nodded, desperately wanting to hold her and comfort her in some way. While it was a relief to know that the stillborn baby hadn’t been theirs, it was almost more frightening not to know what had happened to their baby.

“Our baby is alive,” she whispered. He prayed she was right. “Dr. Parris will help me get my memory back. I know at least one of the monsters. Once we find him…”

Or Carolyn, Slade thought. If Dr. Parris could get Holly’s memory back. If they could find the monsters. If the monsters knew what happened to the baby. Way too many ifs, Slade thought miserably.

The timer went off on the microwave. “Let’s try to eat something now and not talk about it.” He knew she probably wasn’t any more hungry than he was, but they both had to eat. He turned to pull the casserole out, burning his fingers. Grabbing up two potholders, he took the casserole to the table.

She didn’t argue. “I like your sister’s house,” she said, as if trying to make conversation, as she wandered around Shelley’s kitchen. “Where do you live?”

“In an apartment next to my office. It’s pretty basic.” The truth was he wasn’t much of a nester. He liked his sparsely furnished apartment just fine, no matter what Chief Curtis had said. Or Shelley. “I think you have a fear of domesticity,” the chief had said the first time he’d seen the place. “Either that or no taste.”

“It’s fear of commitment,” Shelley had said.

“I happen to like simplicity,” Slade had argued. “If I want homey, I can always go to Shelley’s.”

Curtis and Shelley had looked at each other knowingly. “It’s fear,” they’d both said in unison.

Holly leaned against the breakfast counter. “Where did we…”

“Make love? Here. At my place. And a variety of other places—in and outdoors.”

Holly seemed shocked by that information. “Outdoors this time of the year?”

“You didn’t know you had it in you?” Obviously not.

She blushed and looked away, and he could have bitten his tongue.

“I just can’t imagine—”

But he’d seen the answer in her eyes. She had imagined. Imagined the two of them.

She turned away as if to inspect Shelley’s cookie-cutter collection on the kitchen wall. His mother and sister had been collectors. Maybe that’s why Slade didn’t collect. At least not “things.”

Her hair was still wet from a shower. As he moved back into the kitchen, he picked up the scent of her. She smelled like spring, fresh and new as the first bright blades of green grass. He felt starved for—an end to the winter that had only just begun—and her.

As she started to step past him toward the table, he caught her arm. She stopped, motionless. He turned her slowly to him, her blue eyes as clear and deep as a mountain lake.

She wore jeans and a T-shirt. Both accentuated a full, rounded body he knew intimately.

The kiss was inevitable. He needed her in his arms, needed to hold her and feel her warmth, needed that reassurance that they would somehow get through this. Together. No matter what happened. He needed that more than his next breath.

He lost himself in her eyes, in all that blue as if untethered from earth and suddenly airborne. Her lips parted, the tiniest of sighs escaping.

His mouth lowered slowly, achingly to hers. A light brush. Their eyes locked as his lips again hovered over hers.

Her breath quickened, her heart answering the feverish beat of his own as he pulled her closer. He grazed her mouth again, heard her intake of breath, then her lips parted, opening to him. He dropped his mouth over hers, losing himself in the familiar touch and taste of her, finding in her the sanctuary he so desperately needed right now.

But he knew the kiss was more than finding sanctuary. It could possibly bring him back the woman he loved.

He was startled when she suddenly pulled away, her palms on his chest as she pushed back from him.

He looked down at her in surprise. Her face flamed and she lowered her lashes as if embarrassed. He cursed himself, backing up against the kitchen counter. She looked shaken, her cheeks flushed, her hands trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he said, silently cursing himself again. “I told myself I wouldn’t do that.”

She shook her head, biting at her lower lip.

“You don’t remember me, let alone us,” he said in a rush. “You hired me to find out about the baby, not—” He slashed the air with his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I wanted—” She looked away. “I was hoping the kiss would make me remember—”

Obviously it hadn’t. “I guess I was hoping that, too.” Hoping they could find comfort in each other’s arms. He wouldn’t admit it to her, but he was afraid, afraid that no matter what they did it would be too late for their baby.

“We should eat,” he said.

She nodded and he moved aside to let her go to the table.

They ate, picking at their food, trying to make small talk, the kiss between them.

“You didn’t mention that Dr. Allan Wellington started Evergreen Institute.”

She looked up from her plate. “I just assumed you knew. Is it a problem?”

He shook his head. Dr. Allan Wellington was a thorn in his side that just kept needling at him.

She insisted on helping clean up the dishes. He caught her yawning and could see how drained she was.

“Go on up to bed. I can finish this.”

She glanced toward the stairs.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right down the hall if you need me. You’re safe. Get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow we’ll go see Dr. Parris. That is, if you want me to go with you?”

“Oh, yes,” she said quickly. “Please.”

He nodded, wanting to reassure her in some way, but feeling unable to. At least not with simple words. “Good night.”

He watched her ascend the stairs, feeling anxious, antsy. He desperately needed to do something, something more than he had so far, something more than talk to a shrink.

She stopped part way up and turned to look back at him. “Thank you.”

He had done so little, felt so confused, so frustrated. But at least he didn’t have blank spaces in his life. Except for the last year when he hadn’t been able to find her.

“Good night.”

“Good night,” he said again, knowing it would be anything but.

She disappeared up the stairs, him watching after her, longing in every cell of his body. He yearned for the Holly Barrows he’d known. For a moment during the kiss, he’d thought he’d felt the old Holly struggling to get out. But he could have imagined it, he’d wanted it so badly.

He swore, desperate to destroy whoever, whatever had done this to her. To them. Something or someone had brought her back into his life. Either her memory…or something dark and malignant could have sent her to him, setting them both up for a terrible fall.

What scared him was that if someone really had been controlling Holly, couldn’t that person snatch her away again? Only this time, Holly might not be able to find her way back to him. This time, she might be as lost to him as their baby was to them at this moment.

With a chill, he thought of Inez’s call and her insistence that Holly check herself back into Evergreen. Why had Inez been so adamant? Did she truly believe Holly was sick? Or did she know that Holly had begun to remember and was now a liability?

Slade stood in the kitchen, scared of his own thoughts. Did he really believe someone had…brainwashed Holly? He went into Shelley’s office, booted up the computer and found the phone number on a Web page under Government Conspiracies.

He hadn’t seen Charley Watts in years, not since Charley told him he thought the government was controlling Montana’s weather. Slade didn’t think the government was that organized.

Charley, a good twenty years older than Slade, had been the hippie janitor at the high school until—as locals called it—“Charley went off the deep end.”

The deep end was government conspiracies.

But right now Charley was the only person Slade could think of to dare even mention the words mind control to.

“Hey!” Charley said when he answered. “Sure I remember you! What’s going on?”

“What do you know about mind control?” Slade said, diving right in.

Charley laughed. “What don’t I know? Hey, man, I’ve spent years researching it.” He rattled off some code names. “What do you want to know?”

Slade was afraid he’d made a mistake calling Charley, but asked, “What are those?”

“Government research projects, man. You can’t believe it.”

No, Slade thought, he couldn’t.

“We’re talking using LSD on civilians to see if they would tell their darkest secrets, brainwashing with radiation, low frequency and ultrasonics, hypnosis—”

“Hypnosis?” Slade heard himself ask.

“Oh, yeah, man. Hypnosis and all kinds of drugs trying to come up with a hypnotic resistance to torture. They implanted secrets with special codes, turned regular men into killing machines and then erased their memories, man.”

“They can erase memory? Give someone a drug, then hypnotize them and make them do things they normally wouldn’t do, then erase their memory?”

“Dude, they can do a lot more than that!”

“But I always heard that a person wouldn’t do anything under hypnosis that he wouldn’t do under normal circumstances,” Slade said.

“Yeah? Well, here’s how it works,” Charley said. “Say a guy who would never commit murder is drafted into a war. He’ll kill on the battlefield, right? Well, with hypnosis, the mind becomes the battlefield. If we’re told under hypnosis that it’s a battlefield, then we believe it and will kill. It’s all a matter of perception.”

Slade frowned. Was it really possible? “But I thought with hypnosis you went into an—” He parroted the words he’d found in the dictionary. “—altered state of focused awareness. I’ve always heard that you’re awake, you know what’s going on and you can stop it at any time.”

“You’ve been talking to shrinks, man,” Charley said. “If they can tell you you can’t lift your damned arm during hypnosis, and, no kiddin’, you try and you can’t lift your arm, then why can’t they make you do just about anything? It’s all about mind control.”

“It sounds so…crazy.”

“Listen, governments have been doing this kind of research for years and lying about the outcome. They can program a guy to kill, they can get him to keep government secrets because he doesn’t really ‘know’ anything on a conscious level—”

“Like the movie with Frank Sinatra, The Manchurian Candidate?” Except that was fiction. Pure fiction, right?

“Kinda. Problem with hypnotically induced amnesia, there’s memory leaks and that’s how we’ve found out so much about what they’ve been doing. Guys are remembering.”

Slade gripped the phone. “Memory leaks?”

“Bits and pieces of repressed stuff that suddenly pops up in dreams, flashbacks, you know…memories. So the government came up with screen memory. They fed ’em false stories to recall, like seeing spaceships and stuff like that, so no one will believe them.”

Slade shook his head, not sure how much of this he was buying. “You mean the memories may not be real?”

“Not if the guy who programmed ’em did screen memories on ’em.”

Slade let out a sigh as he moved over to the kitchen window and looked out into the night. He felt exposed. He turned off the light. Something whipped by the window, startling him. Just snow blowing off the roof. He moved into the dark living room where the drapes were drawn.

“OK, let’s say someone was programmed? How do you get them unprogrammed?”

“Could use hypnotic regression. Depends on how deeply the dude’s been programmed. Sometimes just getting off the drugs and away from the programmer…”

“But if they get around the programmer?” Slade asked.

“Oh man, then they can be zapped into another state with just one word. There was this one case of this woman who got involved with this military man. She didn’t even remember how they’d met. Missing-time experiences are common. So are personality changes.”

Slade felt his heart begin to pound. It sounded too much like Holly. Too much like her experience with Allan Wellington. “Charley, you remember that place outside of town, Evergreen Institute?” He could hear Charley scrambling for a pen and paper. “I’m not saying anything is going on out there.”

“Yeah, I got ya. I’ll do some checking. I’ve got friends in low places.” He laughed.

“Well, be careful. It could be dangerous,” Slade said, realizing that that was something he did believe.

Charley let out a low whistle. “Man, not even Dry Creek is safe. Whoa, that blows me away.”

“I don’t have anything definite,” Slade protested.

“No problem, man. If there’s something to get, I’ll get it.”

Slade started to give Charley his phone number.

“Caller ID, man. There are no secrets anymore.” Charley hung up.