“Abby, what was the name of the law firm I worked for in California?” she asked as they finished eating.
Abby frowned a moment. “Washer, Brakeman and Collins…no Collier. Washer, Brakeman and Collier. You worked mostly for Cameron Collier. Why?”
Colette shrugged. “I was hoping the name would jog something in my memory.”
“And does it?”
Colette shook her head and sighed. “Maybe while I was in California a mad scientist zapped my memory permanently.”
Abby and Belinda laughed. “I don’t think there are any mad scientists in San Bernardino, California.”
After her sisters left, Colette cleaned up the kitchen, then wandered around the living room, her mind whirling once again with questions that had no answers.
Was it not logical to assume that perhaps all her present problems—the amnesia, the threats—everything stemmed from something to do with her work?
Before she could change her mind, she grabbed the phone and dialed for California information. A moment later, armed with the number of the Washer, Brakeman and Collier law firm, she gripped the receiver tightly and dialed.
“Washer, Brakeman and Collier,” a pleasant female voice answered.
For a moment Colette was struck dumb, unsure how to respond, what to say.
“Hello?”
Colette drew in a deep breath. “Hello, my name is Colette Connor.”
“Colette! It’s Marcia. Where are you? How are you? Gosh, girl, I’ve missed you around here so much.”
It was obvious Marcia and Colette had been friends. Again Colette was unsure how to answer, what to say, and she cursed her lack of memories one more time.
“Where are you, Colette? That’s been one of the big mysteries around here.”
Colette nearly laughed. Marcia knew nothing about mystery. Mystery was having somebody try to kill you and not knowing who or why. “I’m with my family,” she finally answered, strangely reluctant to give her exact whereabouts.
“So what happened? Why did you just take off? I went by your apartment several times, but you were never there. The last time I went I found out it had been rented to somebody else.”
After a moment of hesitation, Colette told Marcia about her amnesia. “Marcia, you’ve got to help me. Was I working on something sensitive before I disappeared? Was I in some kind of trouble that you knew about?”
“Gosh, Colette, you and I were pretty good friends while you were here. We’d just gone out to dinner together two nights before you disappeared. If you were in trouble you didn’t tell me about it, and I can’t imagine any case that you would have been working on that might have put you in danger. But, Mr. Collier would know more about the cases you were working on.”
Colette rubbed her forehead, frustration producing a slight thudding headache. “Marcia, did anything unusual happen on the last day I worked in the office?”
“You decided to work late, that wasn’t unusual. At lunch that day you told me you were going to work extra late to try to get caught up on things. You were worried about getting fired.”
Colette’s headache blossomed. She’d been working late when she’d heard the voices. Suddenly her dream made sense and adrenaline flooded through her as she realized she was one step closer to discovering why she was in danger.
“Colette, why don’t you talk to Mr. Collier? He’s been worried sick about you since you disappeared.”
“Okay, sure.”
As she waited for Marcia to connect her with her boss, her hands grew damp with perspiration and another surge of adrenaline flooded through her. Maybe Cameron Collier would know if she had been working on a volatile case.
“Colette,” a raspy masculine voice said.
Colette froze.Hang up,a voice screamed in her head.Just hang up.But she couldn’t. She remained frozen, unable to do anything but breathe into the receiver.
“Colette, I know you’re there. Listen, come back to California and we can talk. I’m a reasonable man. We can work this out so everything is fine. All you need to do is come and talk to me.”
Colette slammed down the phone, her heart beating with the fury of fear. That voice. His voice. The last time she’d heard it was when he’d whispered in herear. “Loose lips sink ships.” His voice was smooth as oil, and filled with evil. Loose lips sink ships… what did it mean?
