Read Online Lost Identity by Leona Karr - Free Book Online Page B

her room to Duboise’s office. What had she said during the morning session that made him want to see her again? If she was released from Havengate, where would she go? Should she ask Andrew to let her come back? Even though a deep seated, lurking fear remained just below her consciousness, and she felt the cottage was a safe sanctuary, she knew that it wasn’t fair to him to disrupt his life along with her own.
    “Come in, Trish,” Duboise greeted her with a smile, which put Trish more on edge than ever. She didn’t trust his smooth manner. There was an energy about him that radiated a warning. He motioned to a large burgundy armchair where she always sat during their sessions.
    She sat down stiffly, clutching her hands together. “What is this all about? What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing’s wrong,” he assured her with his usual easy smile as he leaned back in his chair.
    “Then why am I here again today?”

    “Trish, I want you to try and relax. Take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Another one. Another. All right. Now close your eyes. I’m going to say a name for you.”
    She instantly stiffened instead of relaxing. What name? Her nails dug into her palms.
    “Keep breathing deeply, Trish. Just let this name float in your mind like a petal moving on water.” He said the name softly. “Patricia Louise Radcliffe.” He repeated it two more times, and then waited.
    Trish mouthed the name without any recognition, but when she opened her eyes, and saw the way he was looking at her, she knew why he had brought her to his office. He had expected her to recognize the name, but it was no more familiar than the names of missing persons that Andrew had given her.
    Strangely enough she hated to disappoint the doctor more than she felt any deep emotion herself. She had already suffered too many disappointments, and spent too many long hours trying to find a glimmer of remembrance in the world around her.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, knowing that she had dashed his hopes by her lack of response.
    “Close your eyes again, Trish. Breathe deeply. Relax.” After a moment, he said again, “Let this name float gently in your mind. Perry Reynolds. Perry Reynolds.”
    She jerked in shock as if an electric current had charged through her. For a second, she saw a man’s face clearly, graying dark hair, round features and blue eyes. Then the face was lost in a kaleidoscope of images and sounds that whirled in a vertigo of thundering water, crashing timbers and shadowy shapes.
    She put her hand to her throat, cried out, gaspingfor air as if the whirling visions in her head were strangling her.
    “You’re all right, Trish. You’re all right.” Dr. Duboise bent over her, speaking in a soothing tone.
    She leaned back in the chair, limp and drained. After a moment, she managed to ask in a breathless voice, “Who is Perry Reynolds?”
    He avoided answering her for a moment, and instead asked her some open-ended questions about what she had seen and felt when the images flashed before her. When he was satisfied that she’d shared everything as best as she could, he leaned over and took her hand.
    “I got a call from your friend, Andrew Davis, about an hour ago, and he sent me a fax of a newspaper article about a memorial service being held for a woman who was presumed lost in the recent storm.”
    “Patricia Radcliffe?”
    He nodded and as his steady gaze met hers, she knew that he was convinced that she was this person. Suddenly having a strange name thrust upon her was almost as frightening as not knowing her identity at all.
    “And Andrew thought the woman might be me?” She shook her head in disbelief. “It can’t be. The name doesn’t mean anything. It must be somebody else.” She refused to let them shove somebody else’s identity on her. “It has to be.”
    He handed her the newspaper, and said gently, “That’s your picture, isn’t it?”
    She stared at the photograph and her likeness as if it would fade