"Lavene, Joyce & Jim - Mask of the Stranger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lavene Joyce)

"Yes, of course," he answered easily. "Tell me more about the ferns' growth."

Kelsey shivered but he was already off on another tangent. It was her imagination, she told herself, as she listened to him talk about other work going on at the lab. Her mind had begun to put that face on everyone around her.

Suddenly, she couldn't find the energy to finish her dinner and set the box down on the counter between them.

"I really should be going," she told him, standing. Her voice echoed back to her from the surrounding office. She looked around herself at the many awards he'd won in his lifetime.

"My news," he protested, smiling, pulling her back down into her chair. "We've talked about everything but my news for you, Kelsey."

She waited patiently, uncomfortable with him. Uncomfortable with herself. She felt queasy, as she frequently did after eating. But it was something more than just her stomach. It was as though she had looked around herself and found that she was in the wrong place. She didn't belong there and she had to get away.

It was ridiculous, she argued with herself. She was losing ground. She was fighting the wrong person. He was the same man he had been for the past two months. The man who'd been there for her. The only reason she knew who she was at all.

"Is he still there?" he asked quietly.

She nodded mutely, miserably. Not comprehending her feelings, she wanted time to sit alone somewhere and try to sort through them. "I just need to be alone."

He sighed. "You're alone too much as it is, Kelsey. You need people in your life. You need to get out of that apartment and the lab. Let me take you somewhere, just the two of us. You'll see. It will make a world of difference."

They'd had the conversation before. It was always the same result. She didn't want to be there but she didn't want to go. She felt like she was waiting for something. Or someone. She couldn't leave until she knew.

"I found someone who might be able to help," he said when her silence became deafening. "He's the best in his field. I wouldn't have been able to get him here except for a conference next week."

"What can he do?" she felt compelled to ask although the words felt raw in her throat. She cleared it deliberately and drank a swallow of green tea.

"He can help you find your lost self," he continued. "He's done this sort of thing many times before."

"Drugs?" she guessed. She had flatly refused drug therapy, even to end her nightmares.

"Hypnosis," he corrected. "He's a hypno-therapist. The best."

She felt cold inside and wanted to run but forced herself to stay where she was, with her hand in his. It was what she wanted after all. To find those answers to her past.

"I'll wager he's in there." He glanced significantly towards her forehead. "Your stalker."

"You don't think he's real, do you?"

"What do you think?" he countered.

She shook her head. "He seems real."

"How many other things right now seem real? But we both know, they're not." He squeezed her hand lightly. "Wouldn't the police have found him by now? Wouldn't someone else have seen him? I know you want all the answers to the real questions."

"Yes." She nodded. "Yes, I do."

"Then you'll do it." He nodded comfortably, relief apparent in his attitude as he sat back. "I wasn't sure."

"Why?" The question was torn from her in pain.