DESTINATION DEATH PAPERBACK BUNDLE BOOKS 5-7

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SHATTERED IN PARADISE
Chapter 1

“Client is a twenty-six year old female in excellent health other than a history of migraines since the age of eight. No records indicating medical attention for same, nor any prescriptions for pain relief. Client uses OTC standard pain blockers. Client also has no memories of her life before going to live with her aunt and uncle after the death of her parents in a car crash when she was eight.”

Edgar Bainbridge, worldwide renowned neurologist, clicked off the recorder and stared at the large black and white photo of K2 hanging on the wall opposite his desk. Although not as high as Everest, serious climbers considered K2 a more difficult climb. In his younger, cockier days, he had assumed that he could conquer any mountain–no matter the level of difficulty.

He knew better now. Failures in life were inevitable. Just ask his ex. He had loved Hillary with all the passion of a young, idealistic man, but no amount of love could prevent the implosion of their marriage. The photo of K2 served as a reminder that not all of his goals were achievable.

The photo also helped to keep him grounded and reminded him not to grow too full of himself.

Drumming his fingers on the smooth, green quartz that topped his desk, he frowned at the words on his screen. He was afraid that repairing the damage done to Harriet Monroe’s brain might be one of those unachievable goals. Without a doubt, she could well turn out to be the most challenging case of his career.

His biggest fear was that in trying to repair the damage to the young woman’s brain, there was a good chance that he would make matters worse. If that happened and word got out he would be ruined. No one would ever trust him again. Such was the power of messing with people’s heads.

Damn Payson Douglas. His old friend would have to dump an impossible puzzle in his lap and expect miracles.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Edgar shoved up from his chair and walked to the large tinted window that overlooked a broad canal. A white sail boat carrying a young, smiling family powered slowly down the canal, headed out to sea. He’d like to spend the day on the water himself. No responsibilities. No worries.

Maybe it was time to retire.

“Balderdash.”

He owed Payson big time. If it wasn’t for Payson’s encouragement and seed money decades ago, he wouldn’t be the world-renowned doctor he was today. Besides, he thought he understood why Payson wanted to help Harriet Monroe. She was not only lovely to look at, she was lovely on the inside as well. She deserved a better quality of life.

Pursing his lips, Edgar considered what he knew. According to the info Payson had provided, Harriet’s aunt had hired someone to intentionally wipe Harriet’s early memories–an irresponsible and unethical procedure that only a handful of doctors were capable of performing. Because of the illegality of the procedure, Harriet’s aunt had kept no records that would help him track down the doctor she had used.

Still, there were only a handful of doctors capable and twisted enough to destroy a young girl’s memory, and Edgar had a good idea for where to begin his search. He had attended med school with three of the five possibles and knew the other two by reputation.

Two were long dead. The remaining three had eventually been stripped of their licenses to practice medicine. Given their total disregard for the law and ethics however, he’d be willing to bet the three were still messing with people’s minds without the blessing of the International Board of Medicine.
The IBM simply didn’t have enough personnel to monitor every small town, village, or crowded borough where anyone could hang out a shingle and tack an MD after their name.

Edgar turned away from the view of the canal and returned to his desk. Harriet Monroe might turn out to be his K2, but he was determined to succeed–for both their sakes. He couldn’t let Payson down.
Sitting at his desk again, he began to run a search on the three remaining doctors.

Miles Sutcliffe had been one of his classmates. Brilliant, charismatic, considered dashingly handsome–this last according to Edgar’s ex-wife Hillary who had dated Miles for a short while. Miles had made a big splash in the media with his use of sound and aversion therapy to influence neural pathways. The media had turned on Miles when he treated a western diplomat’s son and something went wrong.

Edgar pulled up several old articles on the incident. It all came back to him as he read. The diplomat’s son had been a kleptomaniac. When he was caught with a bag full of jewelry stolen while the family attended a dinner party at the Swedish ambassador’s residence, the father decided it was time to do something about his son. He hired Miles, and Miles turned the son into a milksop, unfit for any career path.

Despite the wrongness of employing untested remedies on people’s brains, Edgar remembered being fascinated by Miles’ work at the time. Edgar felt that sound therapy had great potential, but thanks to Miles the IBM shut down any further research on that particular branch of therapy.

That didn’t mean that Miles had stopped pursuing it.
He put a question mark next to Miles’ name and moved to the next name on his short list.

Audra Stinson had been a couple years ahead of him in grad school. She specialized in brain mapping and the use of a single electron-wide laser beam to destroy precise areas of the brain. A problem with drink had derailed a hot career after shaking hands had left a wealthy female client with stuttering speech.

Audra had disappeared after her very public humiliation.

The last name on Edgar’s list was all too familiar. He pinched his nose with thumb and forefinger when he got to it. McDougall Henry–Gully to his friends–had been one of the doctors in Edgar’s first group practice. Gully was a charming, handsome, dark Irishman with black hair, blue eyes, and a pronounced burr in his speech that made him seem far gentler than he actually was.

Gully had been a genius–probably still was-who employed a wide range of treatments. Hypnotism combined with electroconvulsive therapy had been two of his favorites. Unbeknownst to the rest of the practice, Gully had also been a sex addict.

At the time, he only treated women, and the reason why soon became obvious to the other members of the group practice when one of his patients turned up pregnant–impossible as she had never had relations with a man nor made use of a sperm bank.
The truth came out in a lurid news media report that almost destroyed every doctor in the group: Gully took advantage of his patients while they were under hypnosis.

The woman filed a complaint with the IBM and Edgar’s group practice paid the hefty fines–and then paid Gully to quietly go away. The last Edgar had heard, Gully had moved to Amsterdam.

Edgar frowned at his short list. Any of the methods these three doctors employed could have been used on Harriet. His chances of reversing the damage would be much higher if he could study the records of exactly what had been done.

He pulled in a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh. One problem at a time. First he had to locate them. Neither the worldwide medical database nor a general search had turned up anything current for the three names on his list. Given how passionate they’d been about their profession, chances were good all three were operating under new aliases and keeping a low profile.

If he managed to pass the hurdle of locating the right doctor, he still had to get that person to admit to damaging a young girl’s brain and then get them to share their medical records.

Payson had set him an impossible task.

One he would do his best to solve.

Which one of the three wiped Harriet’s memories?
His chance of success rose dramatically if the physical damage to Harriet’s brain was non-existent or minimal so he would start there.

That meant Miles Sutcliffe and Miles’ use of sound and aversion therapy. If the severe headaches Harriet experienced whenever she tried to think about her parents had been induced through the use of aversion therapy, he should be able to reverse the process.

“Okay, Ed, time to track down some old mates.”
He began making calls.