Read Online Remember Me by Priscilla Poole Rainwater - Free Book Online
Authors: Priscilla Poole Rainwater
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stranger had called Karen by earlier. She had sensed something out of the ordinary about the guy from the very beginning. Nothing threatening or sinister, just felt he had…been putting on an act. So she had committed that name to memory, and when she had arrived home, looked it up on a website designed to help locate missing persons. As it turned out, not only had her friend been missing for three years, but she was also married to a very wealthy man, Granger Mortenson, and they had a son. She had read about Granger Mortenson before, in a business magazine. The man was in the Fortune 500, and from what she had read, the man was a force to be reckoned with.
Getting up to pour herself another cup of coffee, she thought back to the conversation she had had with Karen (or Cassandra, as she was now firmly convinced) shortly after their encounter with the good-looking Asian man.
“Karen, you know, it’s a very real possibility that you could be this Cassandra he was talking about. After all, you don’t know or remember anything at all about your past. I really think you should check it out,” she had remarked casually as they walked back to her apartment.
“Cynne’, you’re forgetting that Brett found my identification, with my picture on it, at the scene of the…the attack. You also know for a fact that that private detective he hired dug up proof that I’m an orphan, and not married. He personally showed me the documentation.” had been her friend’s reply.
Clearly becoming agitated, Karen had then complained of another oncoming migraine, then dug around in her purse frantically for the prescription medication Brett had given her for that very purpose. Finding the bottle, she had smiled, tremendously relieved, and popped two into her mouth, followed by a swig of lemonade she had bought at one of the food stands.
But she herself wasn’t convinced in the least about the veracity of Brett’s claims, and specifically those of the private detective he had hired. After all, how difficult could it have been for Brett to pay the man to fabricate a false past, or identification? Hence her search online as soon as she h ad arrived home.
“Oh my God..” she muttered. Forgetting the coffee, she placed the pot back down and hurried back to the computer. Scrolling down the page, she saw, at the bottom, a contact number for Ms. Jocelyn Ames, Karen’s mother.
Grabbing her phone, she flipped it open and began punching the numbers in as she glanced back and forth at the screen. Her hands were shaking so badly by this point, she dialed a wrong number on her first two attempts. Cursing under her breath, she closed her eyes, took several deep breaths to calm herself, opened her eyes, and very slowly punched the correct number in.
“Hello….?” a woman’s voice answered after the third ring. She had a pleasant, southern, country drawl, much the same as Karen herself.
“Hi, I…uhhh…am I speaking to Ms. Ames?”
“Yes, speaking…“
“Ms. Ames, I’m calling you about your missing daughter."
“ My daughter?” the woman answered in a much different voice that suddenly sounded lifeless and guarded.
Always quick on her mental feet, she was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that this woman had been searching, fruitlessly, for her daughter for over three years, and had surely suffered many disappointments. Quickly trying to reassure her, she blurted, “Ma’am, please don’t hang up! I assure you, this isn’t a prank, I’m your daughter’s best friend! I mean…I’m positive my best friend is your missing daughter!”
“Miss, what’s yo ur name, and where do you live?” T he woman answered in the same guarded fashion.
“My name is Cynne’ Barns, ma’am, and I live in Windsor Virginia. Listen, if you would like, I can send you a photo online, right now, of Kare…I mean Cassandra, to prove to you I’m telling you the truth! Just give me a minute to hook my digital camera up to the
Getting up to pour herself another cup of coffee, she thought back to the conversation she had had with Karen (or Cassandra, as she was now firmly convinced) shortly after their encounter with the good-looking Asian man.
“Karen, you know, it’s a very real possibility that you could be this Cassandra he was talking about. After all, you don’t know or remember anything at all about your past. I really think you should check it out,” she had remarked casually as they walked back to her apartment.
“Cynne’, you’re forgetting that Brett found my identification, with my picture on it, at the scene of the…the attack. You also know for a fact that that private detective he hired dug up proof that I’m an orphan, and not married. He personally showed me the documentation.” had been her friend’s reply.
Clearly becoming agitated, Karen had then complained of another oncoming migraine, then dug around in her purse frantically for the prescription medication Brett had given her for that very purpose. Finding the bottle, she had smiled, tremendously relieved, and popped two into her mouth, followed by a swig of lemonade she had bought at one of the food stands.
But she herself wasn’t convinced in the least about the veracity of Brett’s claims, and specifically those of the private detective he had hired. After all, how difficult could it have been for Brett to pay the man to fabricate a false past, or identification? Hence her search online as soon as she h ad arrived home.
“Oh my God..” she muttered. Forgetting the coffee, she placed the pot back down and hurried back to the computer. Scrolling down the page, she saw, at the bottom, a contact number for Ms. Jocelyn Ames, Karen’s mother.
Grabbing her phone, she flipped it open and began punching the numbers in as she glanced back and forth at the screen. Her hands were shaking so badly by this point, she dialed a wrong number on her first two attempts. Cursing under her breath, she closed her eyes, took several deep breaths to calm herself, opened her eyes, and very slowly punched the correct number in.
“Hello….?” a woman’s voice answered after the third ring. She had a pleasant, southern, country drawl, much the same as Karen herself.
“Hi, I…uhhh…am I speaking to Ms. Ames?”
“Yes, speaking…“
“Ms. Ames, I’m calling you about your missing daughter."
“ My daughter?” the woman answered in a much different voice that suddenly sounded lifeless and guarded.
Always quick on her mental feet, she was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that this woman had been searching, fruitlessly, for her daughter for over three years, and had surely suffered many disappointments. Quickly trying to reassure her, she blurted, “Ma’am, please don’t hang up! I assure you, this isn’t a prank, I’m your daughter’s best friend! I mean…I’m positive my best friend is your missing daughter!”
“Miss, what’s yo ur name, and where do you live?” T he woman answered in the same guarded fashion.
“My name is Cynne’ Barns, ma’am, and I live in Windsor Virginia. Listen, if you would like, I can send you a photo online, right now, of Kare…I mean Cassandra, to prove to you I’m telling you the truth! Just give me a minute to hook my digital camera up to the
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