Story premise:
A young woman is found unconscious and bleeding from a gunshot in an alley. She has no identification and there are no witnesses to her assault. She is taken to the hospital where she eventually regains consciousness but has no memory for her identity.
With the help of a police detective and her neurologist, she works to regain the pieces of her missing life. Over time, memories begin to surface, leading to clues about her identity. The clock is ticking, however, for buried within her locked subconscious are the clues not only to the murder attempt on her life, but the details of an assassination plot on an African American candidate for the presidency of the United States.
Dr. David Cole
I really don’t have a lot of time, so let’s just get to it. My job takes up all the time I want to spend on people. I’ve got way more important things to do than sit around answering a bunch of asinine questions about myself. In fact, I’ve just been assigned a new one; it’s a Jane Doe who came in through the emergency room. She has a gunshot wound to the shoulder and mild force trauma to her head. For some reason, though, she has not yet regained consciousness and it’s been nearly 48 hours now.
O-kaaaayyy. She’s insisting that I talk to you. Well, all right then. And just to let you know, I’m not going to make this pretty. You will soon come to learn that I am physically incapable of being polite! I’m going to send it straight up, without lubricant, because, that’s how I deliver it.
And you love it.
Okay, I’m going to take this seriously.
So, I’m a 45 year old neurologic surgeon. I like saying that. Okay, for you laymen types, basically, what that means is that I’m a neurologist. I provide a wide range of patient services ranging from diagnosing an illness to the management of chronic neurological disorders. I am also actively engaged in clinical and basic science research.
I’m divorced, Columbia and John Hopkins educated, and currently, I live alone. I used to be married. In fact, my wife, that is, my ex-wife, is one of the reasons I’m here in Memphis. She felt like she needed to come back here to take care of her mother; we were living in Boston at the time. Anyway, her mother was dying of cancer and she wanted to be here for her. I never did understand that. Muriel was going to be just as dead whether we were here or in Boston, so why did we have to up-end our lives?
Well, to make a short story shorter, we moved here, I started working for Methodist Hospital Systems. My ex started complaining that she couldn’t get my attention and that I left her alone too much; I worked harder. The next thing I knew, she was humping my best friend, the lawyer.
. . . they did leave me the gold fish.
I feel like I got the better part of that deal.
There’s a funny story about the divorce settlement. My wife, eh-hem, my ex-wife and her new boyfriend, were a little surprised to learn that my net worth fell a little short of what our lavish lifestyle would suggest. See, my family wealth has survived for generations due in large part to the machinigans of my robber baron great-great grandfather. The Cole family money is held in trust; while it may be administered by the first born son or surviving eldest male, the money belongs to the trust, heh-heh, untouchable in a divorce settlement. For some reason, they were both a little disappointed to find my personal net worth was just over $300,000. I guess I could’ve mentioned that during the pre-nup, huh?
When I get a quiet moment, I still crack up over that one!
Anyway, at that point, there didn’t seem much point in up-rooting myself again. Besides, I was in the middle of some really interesting and challenging cases, and moving would’ve taken time away from my work.
I do have some interests outside of work. I am a history buff and the informal historian of our family. Over time, I’ve been able to collect documents and records spanning nearly two hundred years including birth certificates, marriage licenses and journals, among other things.
My favorite time in our family history is the Civil War; I enjoy the different accounts of events of the various men and women who were eyewitnesses to historic events.
I have one ancestor, Mrs. Leticia Kramer George, or “Ms Lettie” for short. Her journals started when she was twelve years old and she meticulously maintained a journal each year until her death, at age 40. Up til about age 19, following her marriage to Herman George, her entries were mindless pre-teen and teenaged drivel. But she seemed to really get her panties in a wad over one of the slave women.
Apparently, Mr. George was spending a bit more time in the slave quarters than what was warranted and Ms. Lettie took exception to that. Her anger and bitterness is even now dripping off the pages when she discovered that the slave, Emma, became pregnant and bore Mr. George a son. As soon as the child was weaned, though, Ms. Lettie arranged to have it sold to another plantation.
The thing that really gets me about this story is that the slave Emma eventually runs away from the plantation and was never heard of again. But before she left, she apparently took Ms. Lettie’s necklace that had been given to her by Mr. George. I figure he was trying to make up for that baby thing.
According to Ms. Lettie’s journal, this necklace was very special and unique. Not only did it carry an inscription of her husband’s undying love, but Ms. Lettie believed that it held special powers.
Man, you can’t make this kinda stuff up. This is better than anything you see on tv these days! LOL!!
Ok, can I go back to work now?
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