Legacy (Steel Brothers Saga #14) - Helen Hardt Page 0,68

with your prior hospitalization?”

“No. I mean, sort of. I don’t remember most of that year, and I always thought it was because of the medication I was on.”

“What medication was that?”

“I don’t know, honestly. I was a minor at the time. I pretty much did what I was told. You can get those records from Dr. Payne.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Anyway, just the other day I remembered something. Or I should say, someone. Or…more than one.”

“What did you remember?”

“The patients who were at the hospital with me. Only I didn’t remember their names. I don’t think I ever knew their names, or I never bothered to learn them.” I quickly relayed the information I’d remembered about each person.

“So you knew them only as these nicknames you made up.”

“Yes. Correct.”

“And you have no doubt that this is a real memory?”

I widened my eyes. “You mean there’s such a thing as a fake memory?”

“The human mind is a delicate thing,” Dr. Pelletier said. “It’s hardly infallible. Sometimes we make up scenarios to fill in what we don’t recall. It’s a defense mechanism and is well documented. You can actually be certain that something is true, when in fact, it didn’t happen at all.”

“You mean because I have a history of mental illness.”

“Not at all, Mrs. Steel. This is common in people who don’t suffer from mental illness. Most everyone does it to some degree.”

I sat, my jaw dropping. Truly? Could I have made up those patients at the hospital?

I shook my head. “These people were real. I’m sure of it. Once I remembered them, I remembered everything about them. Except, of course, their names, but I don’t think I ever knew them.”

“Surely the doctors and nurses at the hospital called them by name.”

“I don’t know. I don’t recall.”

“Mrs. Steel, trust me. The doctors and nurses called these patients by name. They did not call them paperboy and deli owner’s daughter. How do you know this girl’s father owned a deli, anyway?”

“I’m not sure.”

“There must be some reason you remember her as being associated with a deli.”

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Did you ever go to a deli?”

“Yeah, when I lived at home with my parents. There was this great New York–style deli a few miles from our house. We went there a lot for lunch on weekends. I used to love to watch the workers slice the meats to put on sandwiches.”

Dr. Pelletier nodded and made some notes.

“How can I prove to you that this memory is real?” I asked.

“Nothing can be proven without factual corroboration.” He continued writing.

“Then let’s get the factual corroboration.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because records of other patients are strictly confidential. I can’t access them unless I’m a treating physician on the case. This is especially true where minors are involved.”

“Oh.” I bit my lip.

“But let’s go on the assumption that these memories are real,” he said. “Why do you think you’re remembering them now?”

“That’s kind of why I’m here,” I said. “Dr. Payne told me my memories might come back, and when they did, there would probably be a reason.”

“There can be,” he said. “What’s been going on in your life lately?”

I sighed. There was no easy answer to that question. What hadn’t been going on?

“I have a week-old baby whose life has been threatened twice. A good friend of mine is missing. Another friend died at my wedding eight months ago, and we don’t know why or who was behind it. My husband is always working. Oh…my mother attempted suicide after I told her I was pregnant and getting married.”

Dr. Pelletier stopped writing and met my gaze. “I see we have a lot to talk about, Mrs. Steel.”

Chapter Fifty-One

Brad

My flight to Arizona was uneventful. My PI had located Larry and his girlfriend, Greta, in a bed-and-breakfast in Sedona. And yeah, I walked in on them while they were doing it.

Not a sight I ever wanted to see again.

“Steel! What the fuck?” Larry rolled off Greta and wrapped a sheet around himself, leaving her totally exposed. What a gentleman.

I averted my eyes. “Get dressed, both of you. I need to talk to Larry alone.”

“We’re kind of in the middle of something here,” Larry said.

“Believe me, I can’t unsee that. This is important. You have two minutes.”

“Now listen here—”

“Larry, you listen here. I’m not just a friend anymore. I’m your brother-in-law, and I need your help. I’ll make it worth your while.”

That got him. I could almost see the dollar signs in his eyeballs.

“All right. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

I closed the door

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