“Of course, darling,” the woman said. “We have some wonderful things in your size right over here.”
As she tried on clothes, she had a strong sensation that others were thinking about her. She knew about Steven, but not about Julie. The other girl was just waking up at a hotel in northern New Jersey. Like Lorraine and Steven, Julie had lost contact with Marty for a long time. But that didn’t matter for now, because Barbara Huston was taking care of her.
But Lorraine was not aware of this.
36
WHEN SAMANTHA ARRIVED at Wil’s place, she hardly even noticed the mess in his front room. She did, however, register the fact that he’d never unpacked his suitcase. It seemed he had become so involved in her case that everything else was forgotten.
Wil was feeding a gecko when she entered his office. He smiled at her, but it was a sad, almost pitiful smile. Samantha felt her heart constrict. He had bad news for her, she just knew it. She sank wearily into a chair.
“There wasn’t a thing in Barbara’s car,” she said. “Not even a gum wrapper. She was very thorough about clearing it out.”
“I’m not surprised,” Wil said. “I have a feeling she has some answers to questions that go way back for you. You said she was your best friend at med school, that you roomed together and shared some of the same classes. But there’s something wrong here.”
“What’s that?” Samantha asked.
“I called St. Francis,” Wil said, “hoping to find some connection between what’s happening now and the first years you knew Barbara Huston. I found her easily enough in the records. But I didn’t find you. There has never been anyone named Samantha Winstead registered there.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Samantha protested. “Of course I went to St. Francis. How could I be practicing in a hospital if I didn’t? There must be some mistake.”
Wil shook his head. “I’m sorry. I double- and triple-checked, and I even went back a full twenty years. You would have been only fifteen or so at the time, but I thought it was worth a check to see if you were ‘lost’ in the shuffle of computer work.”
“But my professors,” Samantha said. “Surely . . .”
“I spoke to several who had known Barbara,” Wil said. “None of them had any recollection of you.”
Samantha’s face looked so stricken that Wil came and crouched down beside her seat.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Whatever’s happened, I believe you’re a victim. Maybe Barbara is too.”
“But I went there!” Samantha said. “I remember it! It was this big brick building, across the street from a shopping mall. There was a highway in front of it, and a huge wildlife refuge in the back.”
She closed her eyes, holding out a hand.
“I can remember feeding deer at the fence,” she said. “They were that tame. And then one day . . . one day we found a dead one. And my friend said maybe we should dissect it. I was so angry at him . . .”
“What was his name?”
Samantha opened her eyes again.
“I don’t remember.”
“It wasn’t that long ago, Samantha.”
“Do you remember everyone you ever meet?” Samantha demanded.
Wil took her hand and squeezed it. “Samantha, this is some fabrication that has been planted in your mind. I don’t know why, but Barbara, and Raoul Henley, and even Julie all have something to do with it.”
He stood up and walked back to his desk, opening a drawer.
Samantha shook her head in dismay.
“I . . . I don’t understand,” she said. “Does this mean I’ve been practicing medicine without a license? That I’m not a real doctor? But how did I ever get hired by Sangre de Cristo?”
“Someone did a very thorough job of writing this script,” Wil said.
“What are they planning next?” Samantha asked. “What are they going to do with Julie?”
“I’m still working on Barbara Huston,” Wil said. “I should have my information in a few hours. In the meantime, I want you to go home. You said those pictures Julie’s been drawing remind you of something. I want you to concentrate on them, and nothing else. If there’s a clue in them, there isn’t much more time to find it.”
Samantha agreed. Wil walked her out to her truck.
Before she got in, she turned to him and said, “Julie loved me. We only knew each other for a few days, but it was as if we belonged together. Maybe there’s a reason you thought she looked like me.”
“Maybe,” was all Wil said.
Silent, but shaking inside, Samantha climbed behind the wheel of the Bronco II. She drove home, through streets that were, somehow, newly unfamiliar to her. She’d been living here for nearly five years, and she was a respected member of the medical community. But she wasn’t a doctor at all! It was all a scam, her degree a phony piece of paper.