Read Online Mind of Her Own by Diana Lesire Brandmeyer - Free Book Online Page A

were any indication. She decided to check it out.
    As she opened the closet door, a light came alive overhead. Stunned, it took a moment for her to take in the size—the room had to be as big as her guest room! The cedar walls were lined with cabinets, shoe trays, and multilevel bars dressed with clothes. An essence of jasmine floated in the air, making her nose twitch. Suits in every shade of gray hung on Collin’s bar. Louisa seemed to prefer navy and khaki.
    Jazz ran a hand over the clothes and looked for a pair of jeans. Nothing. Doesn’t the woman own any? She rapidly slid the wooden hangers aside. Their golden hooks scratched against the metal bar. Everything seemed to boast a designer label, and nothing had color—no reds, no pinks, and no bright blues; not even a plaid peeked from the mass.
    And no denim.
    A thrill of excitement ran through her. She wasn’t crazy; she knew who she was! She’d worn jeans home last night that would prove to Collin that she couldn’t be Louisa. He must have been so upset he hadn’t noticed what she wore. It was evident to her the woman didn’t even own a casual pair of pants. Collin would know that.
    Dressed in Louisa’s clothes, Jazz felt rather washed out from the vanilla sweater and khaki pants. Her own personality desired attention. Back in the closet, she twisted one of Collin’s red ties off its hanger, wound it through the belt loops on her pants, and tied it at the waist. Feeling much better about her appearance, she trotted down the stairs. Collin had said he would leave a number to call him at work. She found it written on a yellow sticky note stuck to the front of the fridge. She punched in the number.
    “Good morning. This is Mr. Copeland’s office. May I help you?” a well-dictioned woman asked.
    “I need to speak with Collin immediately.”
    “I’m sorry; Mr. Copeland is unavailable at the moment. May I take a message?”
    “Yes. Tell him his wife is still missing.”
    “Missing? Louisa is missing? Has she been abducted? Have you called the police?”
    “No, I haven’t called them. It’s like she’s missing, but she’s not. Collin knows what is going on; it’s complicated. Just have him call home.” She wondered how long it would take for him to return her call.
    “Let me put you on hold. I believe he can take your call now.”
    The phone line swelled with soft classical music. Then, “Louisa?”
    “Jazz.”
    “Jazz, what do you mean you’re missing or Louisa is missing? Didn’t we determine last night that you are Louisa?”
    “But that was before I had proof that I’m not her.”
    “Proof? What proof could you possibly have?” Collin asked, disbelief dripping from his tone.
    “Denim. Louisa doesn’t have anything denim in her closet, or anything colorful. I only wear denim, and I had jeans on last night.” Satisfied with her case, she waited for his rebuttal.
    “Did you look in the dresser in the bedroom?”
    “No.” She rubbed her forehead as she considered the obvious conclusion—she was wrong. Louisa wore denim.
    “Then you don’t have the proof you need. That’s where she—you keep the jeans.”
    “So she’s not missing, or at least you’re feeling confident that I’m Louisa?” She could hear him clicking a pen. Was it a nervous habit or was he frustrated with her? She didn’t know, and that bothered her. “Quit with the pen; it’s annoying.”
    The pen quieted, but he didn’t answer her question about who he thought she was.
    “Do you still have the pounding headache?”
    The concern in his voice comforted her. “It’s still with me and getting worse.”
    “I’m calling the doctor, then, and getting you an appointment this afternoon. I’ll call Laurie and ask her to keep Tim. You lie down and rest. I’ll be home soon.”
    She disconnected and realized that she no longer liked the adventure she had been thrust into, book material or not. This was not fun.
    * * *
    Collin sat in front of the doctor’s desk