Forget to Remember

have been unable to find out which one. However, while speaking with her earlier in the day (I pretend to be her friend; she is unaware of my animosity) I discovered that because of her memory loss she doesn’t think of you as being dangerous. This will work to your advantage. I suggest you call her and entice her to come to your room.

    The note contained a cell phone number for a disposable phone. Carol’s hands shook as she disconnected from Ivan so she would be ready to receive Michael’s call. She couldn’t sit still. She paced around the room, holding the phone in front of her, waiting for it to ring and yet dreading the call.
    She jumped when the ring came in spite of her preparation.
    “Hello.”
    Silence for several seconds. Was he going to speak? “Cindy.”
    Cindy? Short for Cynthia.
    “Who is this?”
    “Your brother—Michael.”
    “Michael? Michael, is it really you? I heard you were dead.” Feigning excitement and pleasure.
    He laughed. “It’s really me.”
    “Oh, Michael, how wonderful. Where are you?”
    “Right here at your motel.”
    “How did you know I was here?”
    “Don’t worry about that. The important thing is we found each other. Let’s get together. Tell me what room you’re in.”
    He was a fast worker. Carol had to make sure he stayed where he was because everything he said was being recorded, and Ivan was listening. She pretended she hadn’t heard him. “Tell me how you survived the plane crash.”
    “It was just luck. I was supposed to fly with Dad and Mom, but something came up at the last minute.”
    “But then you disappeared and everybody thought you were dead.”
    “I was paranoid. I thought somebody had sabotaged the plane and they were out to kill me too.”
    “Who would do such a thing?”
    “You.”
    “Me?” Carol couldn’t believe the direction this was taking. “I was in England.”
    “ You are the one who disappeared. I had no idea where you were. You could have come back to the U.S. Anyway, now I know I was wrong. What did you say your room number was?”
    “Help me remember, Michael. After the crash I did come back, but Mrs. Horton—Grandma—says she didn’t see me. I can’t remember what I did. All I know is that I ended up in California in a Dumpster.”
    Silence on the line. Was she pushing too hard? She waited for him to speak.
    “Cindy, Cindy, fat and windy.”
    The phrase triggered something in Carol’s head. “Cindy, Cindy…” That’s what she must have been called, at least by Michael. She had a vague mental picture of coming back to the farm in a taxi from the airport after the crash. It was getting clearer. She hadn’t called Mrs. Horton and told her she was coming, thinking it would be less stressful on the old lady to reunite with her in person. She must have spotted Michael at the farm. No, it couldn’t have been there, because he was playing dead.
    Somewhere. Maybe he was staking out the farm, waiting for her, knowing she would go to their grandmother’s. That was it. His car was parked at the entrance to the dirt road that led to the farm. He was out of the car, clearly visible. He must have grown tired of sitting in his car, waiting for her for hours—perhaps days.
    He had seen her, too. Frightened because he was alive, she had the cab driver take her back to the airport. She panicked and bought a ticket for a flight to California. Then the picture became fuzzier. Had Michael followed her, taken a ticket on the same flight—maybe in first class while she was in the back and didn’t know he was on the plane?
    In Los Angeles he followed her in a taxi, found out where she was staying, and then abducted her in a rental car. He tied her up, and they drove around Los Angeles for hours... The image ended. Michael was speaking.
    “Let’s let bygones be bygones.”
    “I want to, Michael. Believe me, I do. But it’s hard. After all, you shot at me in California and then tried to kill me at the motel in North Carolina.”
    “Who’s been filling your mind with that crap? It’s Grandma, isn’t it? She’s poisoned your mind against me.”
    “No, no.” This was taking an ugly turn. “Grandma likes you. She didn’t say anything bad about you. Besides, she thinks you’re dead.”
    Carol hoped Michael would believe Grandma hadn’t told her about the phone call from him. Michael’s voice became soothing.
    “I’m in room one twenty-five. Come to my room and we’ll get this straightened out. We need to talk