Out of Sight Out of Mind (7 page)

Madison couldn’t help the splutter of laughter. ‘You got that, did you?’

‘The
Jackson
Pollock, over by the desk? Difficult to miss. Is it real?’

‘Probably – but too big to steal.’ They were through the doors and into the narrow, glass-sided corridor that ran along the entire front face of the building.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’

They’d reached another coded door. Something in the way he paused made her look up.

‘You can identify a piece of modern art, but you don’t know who you are.’ She’d already got to it. ‘You know how to read, how to write. You just signed the visitor’s book. You didn’t have to think about it.’ She swung open the door. ‘You can probably drive a car and work a computer – maybe you play a sport, or a musical instrument. None of this is affected by the fact that you can’t remember.’ She watched the frustration roll over his face. ‘Don’t push it.’

Her hand was on his for only a second.

She unlocked the final door and ushered him into her office, dropping her bag and coat on to a chair. She needed some time to collect herself.

She headed for the safety of her desk, pointing to the two easy chairs that stood closest to the door and gesturing to Jay to sit, wondering if he would. She wasn’t surprised when he ambled to the window to stare out.
A problem with authority, natural restlessness, used to giving, not taking orders?

She exhaled heavily and sank into the chair behind her desk. The indicator light on the phone was blinking. She had voicemail. Routine stuff. She listened to her messages, with half her mind making notes automatically, her eyes on Jay’s back. Last night all she could think of was how to hold on to him, to harvest everything she could from him. But now—

She closed her eyes, briefly. She might have known it would be a lot more complicated than that. Even without the memory loss, this would have been a bigger, slower thing. Last night she’d been on a high of possibilities. Reckless. Now there was reality and issues piling up all around. She was probably already over her armpits in stuff that would keep the lawyers in fits for days. Kidnapping, forgery, using an alias, impersonating a member of the medical profession – but hey, the last three were only aiding and abetting.
Memo to self – stay well away from the legal department.
Thank God the Institute’s director was still in Washington.

She needed to rearrange her schedule to work with Jay. She reached for her diary, then let her hand drop. Busy work was all very well. The elephant in the corner, visible only to her, wasn’t going away. She could only avoid it for so long.

Face it now, or face it later.

This man has the potential to get under your skin.

She let out a shallow sigh. It wasn’t the physical awareness, buzzing just under the surface. She could deal with that. Simplest thing in the world. Just ignore it.

But not if your mouth is going to run away with your mind whenever he asks you a personal question.

In the car just now, she’d started to say that she didn’t have lovers – a subtle warning that she wouldn’t be taking
him
as a lover – and realised, too late, how it sounded. A denial of Neil and all that they’d shared. And then she’d
blushed
, for heaven’s sake! She could feel the heat again now, rising up from the collar of her dress. Confusion? Irritation?
Guilt?

The word whispered, like an echo of pain.

She brought her hands down firmly on the arms of her chair, shaking her head to cool the flush. She couldn’t and wouldn’t go back there.

Briskly she pulled open the drawer of her desk, selected a new folder and wrote Jay’s name on the cover. She stood, tucking it into the crook of her arm. Jay swung round from the window as she approached him. She pasted on her professional smile.

‘If you’re ready, I’d like to start with some simple tests.’

‘Do you think this is going to get us anywhere, like this side of the next millennium?’ Jay demanded as he shifted position on the sofa, scowling. ‘When you said tests, I thought you were going to
do
something.’ His eyes tried to nail her, accusing. ‘This is just stringing words together.’

‘True,’ Madison agreed serenely, making a note. ‘I said it was simple, but it
is
important. Look.’ She fanned out the sheets she’d been using, spreading them over the table. Jay bent forward, interested, despite his protests. ‘These are behavioural memory tests.’ She indicated the lists. ‘Each one you’ve completed is perfect. Even half an hour of my bargain-basement psychology skills is showing that there’s nothing wrong with your semantic understanding. There’s no evidence of confusion, or fugue.’

‘Which means – in English?’

‘Your memory is fine, except for the fact that you can’t remember anything.’

His bark of reluctant laughter made her grin in response. ‘I guess I walked into that one.’

Madison tried not to look smug.

Jay shifted long legs in one direction and then the other, clearly uncomfortable on a sofa which was too small for his frame. ‘If you’re going to psychoanalyse me, shouldn’t you have a couch or something?’

Madison got to her feet. ‘If you want a couch, then you have to come to my lab.’

Madison leaned against the workbench, watching Jay. He was prowling around the sterile white room, like a wary predator inspecting new surroundings. She knew the cliché from a hundred novels. She’d never seen it in action before. As she watched, he examined the flasks and beakers set out on the side, studied her wall charts and considered the sink and the air conditioning unit. Knowing she was observing didn’t seem to bother him. Finally he tested the couch, which stood under the shaded window, before sitting down on it.

‘This where you want me?’

‘Wherever you’re comfortable.’ She took a lab coat from the hook behind the door and put it on. Protective coloration, or professional barrier?

Jay eased himself carefully on to the couch, still looking around.

‘Now that is
very
you,’ he said softly.

‘You think so?’ She followed his gaze to the single personal item in the room – a framed print of a harbour scene, bright with colour. Pastel-painted houses clustered around a tiny marina. She could look at it now, without flinching. She’d been wondering when he’d get to it. ‘It’s Portofino. In Italy. D’you recognise it?’ she added casually.

‘Can’t say that I do.’ He turned his head from the picture. ‘Think that will work? Sneaking up on me with stuff I might remember?’

‘Probably not, but always worth trying.’ She’d washed her hands and was preparing a syringe. ‘If you don’t like needles, look away now.’

‘Ouch.’ He was a fraction too slow in moving his arm out of her reach. ‘What’s in that?’

‘Truth serum,’ she responded, unblinking. She grinned as his eyes widened. ‘In a way it is.’ She pulled over a stool, to sit beside him. ‘It makes a subject – oh – less anxious about the results of the experiment.’

‘Loss of inhibitions?’ This time his eyes narrowed. ‘Am I going to wake up in an hour or so, to find you have film of me flapping my arms and crowing like a rooster?’

‘Now why didn’t I think of that?’ She picked up his wrist, to check the pulse. Easiest thing in the world. Only the slightest flicker over skin on skin. ‘I do video some sessions, but not today. Now, relax, stop talking and let me work.’

‘Yes, Doc. Eyes open or eyes shut?’

She gave him her best professional glare. ‘That is entirely up to you.’

She slid gently into his mind and hovered, assessing the situation. It felt surprisingly warm. As if he was welcoming her. But there was pain and tension under the surface that the drug hadn’t dispelled. She refined the probe and moved in.

Madison flipped through her notes, sucking her pencil, then doodled a small diagram in the margin, a map of what she’d encountered in Jay’s head. She studied it, clarifying her thoughts. The wall, barrier, whatever you wanted to call it, was clearly delineated. A regular shape, with a surface that she could only describe to herself as smooth. She’d explored the whole of the perimeter, ending back where she’d begun, only marginally wiser. She tapped the pencil against her teeth. Natural aberrations, like those caused by injury, were softer, uneven and sprawling. She caught herself up. She was doing it again. Defining this thing as unnatural. But if it wasn’t natural—

She lifted her eyes as the door opened. Jonathan leaned in around it.

‘This is where you’re hiding.’ He slid into the room. ‘What have you done with—?’

‘Shh.’ Madison put her finger to her lips and inclined her head towards the couch. The drug and her gentle suggestion, as she slid out of his mind, had sent Jay into a light doze, while she made up her files.

‘Is that him?’ Jonathan came to stand beside her. He rolled his eyes. ‘I take back everything I said last night about throwing him out. Darling, he’s
gorgeous
. No wonder you wanted to keep him.’

‘He did scrub up rather well, didn’t he?’ She regarded Jay, then Jonathan, thoughtfully. For an incorrigible gossip, Jonathan could be remarkably good at keeping secrets, but she wasn’t going to confide in him today. Right now she wasn’t planning to share the finer points of this – or maybe that should be the murkier points of this – with
anyone.
Not until she had a better idea of what she was dealing with. She shuffled papers, trying to recall exactly how much had spilled out in last night’s over-excited phone call, wincing inwardly as she remembered an uncharacteristic babble about power and connection. She really had been out of herself. Nothing to do now but keep it cool and casual.

‘I’ve done some preliminary work.’ She indicated the file. ‘He seems a particularly receptive subject. Possibly the best I’ve ever found.’ She was quite safe going that far. ‘He’s willing to stay around for a couple of weeks. So—’ She smiled and shrugged. ‘Who knows?’

Jonathan shot her a puzzled look. ‘One for the journals, then?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Well, if he doesn’t work out for you, you can certainly send him over to us. I’ve always been a sucker for a pretty pair of ears.’ Jonathan’s specialty was sound and hearing.

‘You’re a sucker for a pretty anything.’

Jonathan nodded, grinning. ‘This is true.’ He reached out to hug her. ‘Hope it works out, sweet pea.’ He threw another glance over at Jay. ‘And if you want me and Ash, you know where we live.’

‘I do. And I appreciate the way you both take care of me.’ She reached up to kiss his cheek, turning him gently towards the door. ‘Go now. I need to finish up here, before I wake sleeping beauty.’

Jonathan stopped in the doorway ‘And you know how to do
that,
don’t you, darling?’

‘Go!’ Madison made a rude gesture. Jonathan laughed and went.

Madison stacked a clip of papers and files and dropped them in the out tray before looking back at her notes and the diagram. The session hadn’t gone badly, except for a niggling worry that had thrown her off balance. This time she hadn’t been able to talk to Jay when she was inside his mind. There’d been just a blankness when she’d tried to form the words and get him to respond. He could still feel her inside his head, but all she’d got was the usual miasma of emotion and sensation. He was tired – no, make that exhausted – but neither that, nor the drug she’d administered, should have dampened his responses to that extent.

She sat with her chin buried in her hand. She had to figure out how to get that communication back. Or did she? Was that just something
she
wanted? Would it affect the wall, or was it just a blind alley? Maybe it
was
simply fatigue, dulling his reactions? She shelved the problem and moved over to the couch. Jay’s hair was flopping over his face. The lines and shadows of tension had smoothed out a little in sleep, but not enough. She made a mental note to find out more about headaches and nightmares, as she studied his mouth. From this angle, no, from any angle, without question, it looked pretty damn good. Jonathan had put an idea in her head and now it was trying hard to take root. It was only healthy and natural for a girl to wonder how a mouth like that might taste.
Doesn’t mean you have to do anything about it.

With a sigh, Madison settled for patting Jay’s arm. He came awake with a start that had her pressing her hand to his chest, to stop him rolling and hurting himself. Firm, hard muscles, under her fingers. She dropped her hand, fast.

‘Hell.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘Can’t seem to stay awake.’ Madison saw realisation coming into his eyes. ‘That shot you gave me—’

‘The after effects are mildly sedative, that’s all.’ She held up her arms to show there was nothing up her sleeves. ‘When was the last time you had a full night’s sleep? Before last night?’

He got the point. ‘About … three months?’

‘Exactly.’ Madison stood aside as he swung his feet to the floor.

‘I take it you didn’t miraculously stumble over my whole life story, while you were in there?’ His voice was carefully neutral. Its very flatness constricted Madison’s chest, but there was no point in lying.

‘I have a clearer picture now of the barrier.’

‘That good, huh?’

‘It’s a start.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Let’s go home. What we need now is a plan, and food. Pizza. I always plan better over pizza.’

Madison walked away from the ATM with a bundle of notes in her hand. Jay was propped against the car; one arm was wrapped around the other, supporting his injured shoulder. She held out the bundle.

‘Your fee. One hundred pounds, as agreed.’

‘Should I give you a receipt?’ His mouth now was a hard flat line.
It isn’t meant to look like that.
He hadn’t moved.

‘Please, Jay, take the money. You need it.’ She curled her fingers over the notes, to protect them from the stiff breeze. ‘You were willing enough last night.’

‘Last night was last night.’ He still didn’t move. Madison looked down at the money and back at him. She didn’t need to ask what he meant. Twenty hours ago he’d been a derelict, on the make. Now there was a new man evolving in front of her. Food, warmth, shelter. The line between respect and the street was frighteningly narrow. ‘This isn’t just money, Jay. It’s independence, and a small measure of dignity. You think I don’t realise how hard this is for you? Accept it, please.’ He shifted his stance. She held her breath. After a couple of beats he held out his hand. She put the cash into it. ‘Thank you.’

‘I’m the one who should be saying that.’ His voice cracked a little.

Wordlessly Madison shook her head. ‘If you want to shop, I’ll go and pick up some milk and then order the pizza. Meet you back here in half an hour?’ Jay nodded as she turned away. ‘Oh.’ She turned back. ‘What shall I order for you?’

‘Pepperoni, jalapeño, extra cheese.’ Jay swore softly. ‘Great – I can remember a pizza topping, but I can’t remember who I am.’

Scott was coming towards them across the lobby, with a package in his hand.

‘Good evening, Miss Albi. This just came for you. Can I get a signature?’

Jay shuffled the brand new backpack up his arm, to take the pizza cartons from her while she signed.

‘Scott, this is Mr Jackson.’ Madison waved her hand in introduction. Scott turned to face Jay. ‘He’ll be working with me for a while at the lab, so I’m letting him use the studio. Could you mention it to Sandra?’ she added casually, watching the concierge under her lashes.

‘Certainly, miss,’ Scott replied as he relinquished the parcel. ‘Hope you have a pleasant stay, sir. Anything you need, just let me know.’

Scott smiled, gave a small salute and went back to his desk. Silently Madison and Jay crossed the foyer. The lift doors closed behind them.

‘No recognition at all. He had no idea we’d already met.’ Jay propped the cartons against the lift rail for balance as the elevator jerked. ‘Looks like clothes do maketh man,’ he misquoted, mouth turned down.

‘The fashion industry certainly counts on it,’ Madison agreed absently as she checked the package – a covert DVD of bloopers and out-takes from the official proceedings of the convention she’d attended in Washington, DC. She grinned, shaking her head. One day someone was going to get into deep trouble for circulating these. She tucked it into her bag, pulling out her door keys. Scott’s reaction hadn’t surprised her. She’d have been more surprised if he
had
recognised Jay as last night’s tramp. With the potentially tell-tale bruises hidden by the high-collared sweater and freshly washed fall of dark hair, which also covered the cut over his brow, there was little to offer a clue.
We see what we want to see. Expect to see. This is Mr X. He looks right, speaks right, smells right, even. And so we accept him.

She cast a sideways glance at Jay as the lift stopped. It wasn’t just the clothes that had made the change. It was everything about the man.

Just who the hell are you, Jay?