Forget to Remember (24 page)

New thoughts rushed into her head. “You said
my parents didn’t believe Michael attacked me.”

“Apparently, it was the case of them always
trying to protect the weaker child. You were the strong one.
Michael couldn’t do any wrong in their eyes. He
couldn’t
have attacked you.”

“Did they find the knife?”

“Not as far as I know. When you got out of
hospital, you realized you couldn’t live in the same house with
him. He was crazy enough that he might try to track you down if you
stayed in the States. So, you came to England and changed your
name.”

“Why would my own grandmother reject
me?”

“Does she have dementia?”

“She’s as sharp as a brand new razor
blade.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to ask her.”

“Paul—Mr. Vigiano—the attorney for my
parents’ estate said I came over here to write a novel.”

“That may have been what you said, but you
never mentioned it to me. I suspect it was just a cover story you
told people because you couldn’t say you were afraid of your
brother.”

“So I’m not a budding Hemingway.”

“No, but you’re a damn good mathematician.
What are you going to do now?”

“Wonder why I can’t speak French since I had
a French boyfriend.”

They laughed together.

“Actually, I think I’ll go back and ask my
grandmother why she rejected me.”

“That’s my Aiko—or Cynthia—or Carol, or
whatever you want to be.”

Carol laughed again, a little hysterically.
“I’m all of the above. There’s an old movie called
The Three
Faces of Eve
, about a woman with multiple personality disorder.
I’m the modern version.”

CHAPTER 30

Carol—for she still thought of herself as
Carol—didn’t tell anybody except Janet about her plans. She didn’t
tell Paul; she knew he’d be happy she was Cynthia because it would
make him rich, but she didn’t want him confronting Mrs. Horton. She
wanted do that herself. She didn’t tell Rigo or Frances because she
was afraid of an information leak.

She had recovered part of her recent past,
thanks to Janet, although she still didn’t remember any of it
except for Michael’s aftershave and the knife attack. Janet had
showed her the picture album of their hike through Scotland and
England. The girl with Janet was her, all right. There was no doubt
in her mind. Even though she couldn’t remember the details, she now
believed she’d done the hike. It must have been a great
adventure.

Janet also showed her photos of Aiko with
teachers and students at the school. She could picture herself as a
teacher. What she couldn’t fill in was what had happened to her
when she went back to North Carolina after her parents and brother
were killed in the plane crash. She hadn’t talked to Paul, or he
would have mentioned it. Had she gone to the memorial service?
Probably not or Paul would have seen her. Had she even talked to
Mrs. Horton? The woman was still Mrs. Horton to Carol. She wouldn’t
be Grandma until she accepted Carol as her granddaughter.

Carol said a tearful good-bye to Janet on
Tuesday morning. She took the train back to London and stayed at
the Balmoral Tuesday night. She rode the Heathrow Express to the
airport Wednesday morning and caught a noon American Airlines
flight to Raleigh/Durham Airport. It landed late in the afternoon.
She wanted to get a good night’s sleep before talking to Mrs.
Horton, so she rented a car and took a room at an economy
motel.

***

Wednesday morning was warm, tending toward
hot, somewhat different than the weather in England. Carol dressed
in summery clothes and ate breakfast at a diner near the motel. Her
plan to get a good night’s sleep had backfired to some extent,
because she’d spent part of the night rehearsing what she was going
to say to Mrs. Horton and the balance having restless dreams.

As she drove along the unpaved road that led
to the farm, she pictured the scene. Audrey would open the door.
Was she in on the deception? Probably not. She had only been with
Mrs. Horton for a year. The chances were she’d never seen Cynthia,
only Carol. Unless she’d seen Cynthia when she went back after the
plane crash.

Carol drove up to the garage and parked. She
got out of the car and Butch came bounding up, treating her like a
long lost friend. She was glad to see him too. He hadn’t deserted
her. She walked along the sidewalk that fronted the house. The
garden was still in bloom. She remembered some of the flowers Mrs.
Horton had introduced her to: mums, Japanese anemone, purple cone
flowers, dahlias, asters, goldenrod. Mrs. Horton had treated her
well. She had helped her get assistance from Paul, but she’d denied
Carol was her granddaughter. Strange behavior.

Carol hesitated in front of the door with
the large window. No one was in sight on the other side. For a few
seconds, she tried to contemplate her future. Whatever happened
here was going to change her life forever. She found she couldn’t
think about it. She rang the doorbell.

Audrey came to the door, as predicted. When
she saw Carol, a big smile lit up her face. It was genuine. Carol
suspected Audrey was guileless. Audrey opened the door and gave her
a hug.

“Carol. What a surprise. How are you? Come
on in. Mrs. Horton will be so happy to see you?”

“She will?”

That had slipped out, but Audrey passed over
it. “Of course she will. She’s in the family room.”

It was only a few steps to the doorway that
led to the family room and kitchen. Carol followed Audrey through
the opening, wondering whether Mrs. Horton had seen her when she
walked past the family room window. No. She was dozing in a
chair.

Audrey went down the two steps to the family
room and touched Mrs. Horton on the shoulder. “Wake up. Carol’s
here.”

Mrs. Horton woke up groggy, looking
old—older than she had during Carol’s last visit. Audrey had to
repeat her message. Mrs. Horton finally saw Carol. A strange
expression crossed her face. Then it cleared.

“Carol. What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Carol couldn’t bring
herself to hug her grandmother.

Audrey spoke to Mrs. Horton. “This might be
a good time for me to do my shopping. I’ll be back in about an hour
and a half.”

Audrey and Mrs. Horton discussed items to
buy. Audrey wrote them on a pad. Then she went out the front door.
Carol saw her walk past the family room windows on the way to her
car. Mrs. Horton turned her attention to Carol.

“Where are my manners? Sit down, child. Tell
me what you’ve been up to.”

Carol sat in a chair next to Mrs. Horton.
She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t give her planned speech. She
started crying. “Grandma, why did you reject me?”

Mrs. Horton looked startled. Then her
expression changed, and it appeared as if she might be going to
issue a denial. It changed again to sadness. Tears started rolling
down her face. “How did you find out?”

“I found a woman I taught school with in
England.”

Mrs. Horton didn’t question this statement.
She fought to bring herself under control. “It’s Michael. He told
me if I acknowledged you, he’d kill us both.”

“But Michael’s dead.”

Mrs. Horton took Carol’s hand and gripped it
hard. “He’s not dead.”

“But how—”

“Listen to me, child. He was supposed to be
on the plane, but he gave an excuse and didn’t fly that morning. He
as much as told me he sabotaged the plane.”

“He caused the crash?” Carol couldn’t
imagine such a thing. Yes, she could. If he’d attempted to murder
her, he was capable of murdering his own parents. “Why? It couldn’t
be for money. Wasn’t he written out of the wills?”

“I’ve thought and thought about that. If
you’re not found, the estate goes to a nonprofit organization. I
haven’t been able to find out much about it, but I suspect
Michael’s behind it.”

Could that be true? Carol’s mind didn’t work
in devious ways, but from what she’d learned she suspected
Michael’s did. “I haven’t actually seen the wills of Richard and
Helen.” She had a hard time thinking of these strangers as her
parents. “Paul said they were rewritten a year ago. Do you think
Michael convinced them to do it?”

Thoughts were racing through Carol’s head.
She didn’t give Mrs. Horton a chance to answer. “Michael must have
been the one who put me in the Dumpster and left me for dead. He
must have been the one who shot at me in the driveway.”

“When did that happen?”

“After I went back to California.” Thinking
about the Dumpster reminded Carol of another question. “Did you see
me after my parents died?”

“No. Of course, I prayed that somehow you
were alive and would hear about the crash, but you never showed
up.” Mrs. Horton shook her head and then sighed. “I always knew
there was something wrong with that boy. Helen and Richard wouldn’t
listen.”

“He stabbed me with a knife, but they
wouldn’t believe it was him.”

“I tried to talk some sense into them. It
was no use. I knew you wouldn’t lie. He had them mesmerized. I
almost spilled the beans when Paul asked if Cynthia had a scar, but
I was too frightened.”

“Where is he now?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know. He called me
a few weeks after the crash. I almost had a heart attack. At first,
I didn’t believe it was him, but no one else sounds like he does.
Somehow he found out you were coming here. That’s when he told me
to say you weren’t my granddaughter or he’d kill us both. He also
told me not to tell anybody he was alive.”

“Since he’s tried to kill me three times
already, that’s not hard to believe. As I said, the shooting in
California occurred after I came here. Apparently, he’s still
afraid I’ll get the money.” Carol needed to protect her
grandmother. “We have to go to the police.”

Mrs. Horton shook her head. “He warned me
against that. If we do, he’ll kill us for sure.”

“We have to get you to a safe place.”

“There is no safe place as long as he’s out
there.”

“This house can’t be easily guarded.”

“I’ve lived here too long to move now.”

Carol wanted to argue with her, but she knew
it was futile. Besides, Mrs. Horton was right. Any place she went,
Michael would find her. Mrs. Horton released her death grip on
Carol’s hand.

“I’m being selfish. It’s much more important
that you survive than I do. I’ve lived my life. I didn’t send in
the DNA test because I was scared. I didn’t want you to find out
who you were. I was afraid Michael would kill you. Now that you
know, I’m going to do it. Then, if something happens to me, you can
use it to help prove who you are, if there’s any question.”

Carol went and got the test kit, following
Mrs. Horton’s directions, and helped her scrub the inside of her
cheek with what looked like a small toothbrush. She had to do it
three times three hours apart. They filled out the form authorizing
the information to be used for matching purposes, and Mrs. Horton
signed it.

Carol explained the procedure. “We send the
DNA sample to the testing company. It has a lot number on it. That
number is connected to Frances who’s a project administrator.
She’ll be able to see the results of the test online. Since she
also has a record of my DNA, she can compare them. You and I should
have the same mitochondrial DNA.”

“That will prove you’re my
granddaughter?”

“No, because there are probably a number of
people who have the same mtDNA as you do. It will prove we’re
related, however. If we match but there’s still doubt, we can
expand the test to include the rest of your DNA.”

Under Mrs. Horton’s direction, Carol made
them lunch. While they were eating, Mrs. Horton reminisced about
when Carol was young (referring to her as Cynthia), and mentioned
she was a majorette since the age of seven.

“When you showed me family pictures, there
weren’t any of me in any kind of majorette uniform.”

“I-I took them out of the books. I also hid
the pictures of you when you were older—any that looked too much
like you do now. I didn’t want anything to jog your memory.”

Carol still had a hard time believing her
grandmother would reject her, but the fact that she did it out of
fear for her safety helped.

They discussed whether they should talk to
Paul. Carol was against it. “He’s not trustworthy. He altered the
picture of me to try and convince me—and you—I was Cynthia.”

“He wasn’t sure you were. Money is the root
of all evil. He had millions to gain if you were Cynthia. It was
unethical, but because you are Cynthia we should all be on the same
side now.”

“Won’t he feel obligated to go to the
police?”

“I don’t think so. There’s something called
client confidentiality. I’d feel better if we did talk to him.
Somebody else has to know what’s going on, and as the executor of
the estate, he’s the logical one. I want him to know who you are.
Maybe he can help us. If worst comes to worst and anything happens
to either one of us, he needs to know who’s behind it.”

“I guess you’re right. Should we make an
appointment to see him?”

“I’ll invite him for dinner. He and his wife
are separated. I’m sure he could use a good home-cooked meal.”

“Does Audrey know everything?”

“No. It’s time she knew. I’ll fill her in
when she returns. For one thing, she should have the option to
leave if she thinks it’s too dangerous here.”

CHAPTER 31

“Carol is really Cynthia?” Paul looked
incredulous. “Elizabeth, I remember you sitting in that very chair
and telling me Carol couldn’t possibly be Cynthia because of some
crazy thing about her earrings.”

They were sitting at the table beside the
kitchen counter having a pre-dinner glass of wine. Carol and Mrs.
Horton had spent the afternoon reminiscing—or at least Mrs. Horton
had reminisced while Carol listened and tried to grasp threads of
events from her past, hoping one would open a closed door within
her brain.