The Memory Painter

Linz looked away. Bryan had logged his fair share of hours online. And she had seen the results.

Conrad took out a file from his briefcase and put it on the table between them. “I had personnel run a background check on him. It was all done confidentially.”

Linz tried to keep her voice down. “Do you want to know how mad I am at you right now?”

“You can be as mad as you like, but did you know he grew up in a string of mental institutions?”

“No, he lived with his parents. His mother is a shrink—”

“—who admitted him into every psychiatric hospital on the East Coast,” he insisted.

“That’s not true.” She glanced at the file.

“Your friend is an unstable man. One doctor diagnosed him schizophrenic. Go on, read it.” He slid the file toward her.

“I don’t want to read it. You don’t even know him.”

“Do you?” he countered.

Linz rubbed her forehead, feeling another headache settling in. The whole situation had gotten out of control. “Can we just forget about Bryan for a minute? I want to know about Michael and Diana. Please.”

“Why do you want to know about these people?”

“Just tell me and I will read the file. Okay?”

Conrad shook his head in resignation. He looked weary. “Michael was like a brother to me. Diana was the sister I never had. We became close friends in med school. Renovo was our dream. Losing them, abandoning the study … I had to start all over again.”