The Syndrome

Two more years passed before she saw Nikki again, and that was by accident. Adrie

And there was no doubt that this was her, not a moment’s hesitation despite the fact that they hadn’t seen each other in nearly ten years. She’d tiptoed hesitantly down the aisle, shoes in hand, and stopped in front of her to ask, “Nikki?” And Nikki had looked up, frowning a little—and then her face had split into the biggest, widest grin. And the two of them were screaming and hugging, Nikki shouting: “This is my baby sister!”

As Nikki told it, she’d been tripping with her boy-toy in Berlin, a German kid named Carsten Riedle, and she overdosed. No Tristan, young Riedle left her for dead, drooling on the floor of the family’s townhouse in one of the city’s most fashionable neighborhoods.

The Riedles’ housekeeper found her in a coma the following morning, and sent for an ambulance. Hospitalized, she remained unconscious for the better part of a week and, when she awoke, remembered almost nothing. Weeks went by, and then a month. Finally, she was removed to a clinic in Switzerland where they had a doctor on staff who’d had success with cases similar to her own. The clinic also treated substance abuse and since Nikki’s troubles had started with an overdose, it was considered the ideal place for her rehabilitation.

While her doctors expected the amnesia to pass of its own accord, she remained Patient X to herself and everyone else. Meanwhile, queries to the U.S. Embassy in Bo

And then it happened. On a warm spring day, as she walked from the clinic toward the marina and its restaurants, Nikki saw a poster on the wall emblazoned with an ad for Far and Away. Cruise and Kidman were locked in an embrace, and… Nicole. It all came flooding back. She remembered her name. She remembered Carsten Riedle. She even remembered the music that was playing on the CD when the scumbag shot her up. Alanis Morissette. Jagged Little Pill.

Two days later, she had a lawyer, and two weeks after that, a settlement: in exchange for the fräulein’s agreement to disappear from their son’s life and to forgo legal action against the family, the Riedles would establish a trust fund in her behalf. And so it was done: half-a-million dollars. Exit the Riedles.

The elevator opened on the lobby, and Adrie

And, anyway, it wasn’t the same Nikki who’d come back—not really. It was like, Nikki-Lite or something.

Almost furtively, Adrie

What was always revealed between the kiss hello and the appetizer was something that Adrie

And seeing her sister like this, Adrie

“You leaving?” The doorman was holding the door open for her.

Adrie

The doorman looked puzzled. Shook his head and frowned. “I don’t think so—I would have seen her. You check the laundry room?”

Adrie

So it was back up the stairs, where the doorman was waiting with a chagrined look on his face.

“Hey,” he said with an apologetic shrug. “I forgot to look. She left a note for you.” He handed it to her.

As Adrie

A—

Couldn’t stick it any

longer. Rainbow sorry.

Nikki

Chapter 7

The doorman’s hands were shaking as he inserted a master key in the lock to Nikki’s door. Over and over, under his breath, he kept repeating, “Y’never know, y’never know.” Then the lock turned, the door swung open, and Adrie

“Nikki?” The apartment was dark, the dog barking, somewhere off to the right. “Nikki?”

Ramon’s hands felt for the light switch, but nothing happened when he flicked it on. He gave Adrie

“Fix it,” Adrie

“Breaker’s in the kitchen,” Ramon replied, “but I’ll need a flashlight. You think she had one?”

Adrie

“There’s—there’s a utility room down the hall.” The doorman turned, then broke into a run.

“Nikki?” She could feel the hot tears rolling down her cheeks as she moved, step by step, through the living room, hands extended, just above her waist. She didn’t want to trip over… “Nikki?”

The only light in the apartment was the ambient, neon glow from outside the windows. That, and the light from the hall. She could make out shapes—the couch and the table, the big leather club chair. But… “Nikki!?”

Jack was barking louder now, his feet scrabbling against the kitchen door. As her eyes began to adjust, she maneuvered her way toward the sound and, finding the door, pulled it open. The dog burst into the room and, yipping, chased his tail in a frantic little circle, then jumped up against her. “Down,” she ordered, at once startled and a