Free Out of Sight Out of Mind by Evonne Wareham

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.’

Chapter Five
    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