A Deadly Memory Page 2

  "No." She met the look of fear in his eyes, and the rush of tears she'd been trying to hold back spilled out with the sob she couldn’t call back. The ache in her heart suddenly became stronger than the one in her head. "I don't understand."

  His jaw was clenched. She could see the pulse at his neck. Throb, throb, throb.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing's wrong. We just have to get you taken care of, okay?"

  Sean wasn't acting like himself. Sean Hughes was never hesitant, never unsure. He was the take-charge guy.

  He reached for her. "I'll call Amy on the way to the hospital. She can meet us there."

  Piper frowned. That wasn't right either. "Amy's at State." She sounded unsure, even though she knew it to be true. She had driven her sister to college just last... last week or..or...Piper drew in a shaky breath. "She's here?"

  He nodded. He stood close enough that she could have put her head on his shoulder. But she was paralyzed, afraid of the way he was treating her like, like...she wasn’t his.

  "Sean?"

  "Will you let me help you now?" He hesitated before he reached for her. She could smell his cologne, the woodsy scent she'd always loved. The smile he gave her failed to wrinkle the corners of his eyes. Forced. "You'll be okay."

  She backed away from him.

  "I can't remember anything." Her voice came out scared and weak. Two things she refused to be. Two things she hadn't been in a long time.

  "It's going to be okay. I promise." Sean lifted her into his arms. His heartbeat throbbed against her ear. It sounded like it might match her own.

  "I'm sorry, Sean."

  He stiffened. "For what?"

  "Everything. I'm sorry for everything." She allowed herself to lean her head on his shoulder, trying to remember just what it was she was sorry for. Was he so mad he had stopped loving her? What had made him so cold? Nothing came, just the erratic beat of his heart. Was he scared too?

  Her eyes closed, a sweet reprieve from the mangle of sound and pain in her head, but she couldn't find the quiet she wanted. The familiar sound of a siren cut through all the other sounds.

  A million jolts and jostles further jarred her from the pull of sleep. She thought she could still hear Sean's heartbeat, feel it against her cheek, but then there was a cool pillow and voices and more voices until she woke, surrounded by beige walls with one ugly strip of floral wallpaper lining the room. A dark, close room. A hospital room.

  A series of beeps drew her attention, and she adjusted her body to look.

  “Oh!” A stabbing pain shot through her shoulder, and she bit back a cry. “Mff.”

  "Piper?"

  "Amy?"

  Her sister reached for her, grabbing her injured hand. "Hey there."

  Amy squeezed tighter, and Piper flinched at the pressure.

  Her sister let go. "Sorry. I'm so glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

  Piper croaked out an indiscernible sound, more bullfrog than human, and cleared her raw throat. "Peachy."

  "Way to stay tough. You could at least admit something hurts."

  Piper's left hand went to her face. Her jaw ached, like the rest of her. "It does."

  "Sean said you had a wreck."

  Sean. Her pulse sped. He had taken her stuff down. She hadn't asked why. And the coldness, the forced smiles. Panic came back in a rush of heat and beads of sweat. She practiced deep breathing, her only relaxation technique that worked. Other than a pound of Ghiradelli and a strong black coffee.

  "What happened to me?" Piper glanced down at the source of her pain, her whole body. Several bruises were showing on her arms, but the rest of her was mummy-wrapped, tucked tightly under thin hospital blankets.

  "You don't remember?"

  "I...I'm not sure." She tried to recall, tried to pull up her last memory. "Was I working a case? No, there was that lunar eclipse. I was supposed to go somewhere."

  "Oh, Piper." Amy bent over and gave her a feather hug, carefully avoiding Piper's bruises. "I'm so sorry I sent you out. It's all my fault." A sob clipped the last word, and Amy rushed on, "It should have been me."

  "Why aren't you in school?" Piper stared at her sister. Amy's gold-flecked brown hair was longer than Piper remembered, her face thinner, almost like looking into a mirror. Their mother's green-gray eyes stared back at her, haunted.

  "School?" Amy pulled back. "Sean said you weren't quite yourself, but the doctors said you were fine. I don't go to school anymore."

  Tears welled in Amy's eyes. She rubbed at her cheek like she always did when she was trying to hide something.

  A flash caught Piper's eye. "Where'd you get that ring?"

  "It's my engagement ring." Amy held the diamond close to Piper's face. "Remember how you said it was gaudy?"

  The rock she held under Piper’s nose was pretty gaudy. Piper stared at the large diamond. It was much larger than her own. Her fingers played across her bare skin. "I lost my engagement ring."

  "Oh, Piper, no, you didn't lose your ring."

  "Nana's going to be so upset. Wait...What do you mean I didn't? Did Sean find it? Where is he?"

  "He went to look at the accident. He said he'd swing by later." Amy lowered her eyes to the floor and sat at the foot of the bed. She held Piper's hand. "Piper, what day is it?"

  Piper attempted a wry grin. "I don't know. Feels like a Monday."

  "Do you know what month it is?"

  "April. I saw the daffodils on Ms. Tilly's lawn yest-yesterday."

  Amy's face didn't change, didn't register shock or surprise. Piper felt a twinge of relief, until the next question.

  "What year is it?"

  Piper knew she'd get the year right, but when she said it, Amy flinched like she'd been kicked. Wrong. It was all wrong. She could read the fear on Amy's face, see the taut lines her sister struggled to cover up.

  Amy's voice quavered, "Who is Jai?

  Jai. Piper rolled the name through her head.

  "Try hard. Jai."

  She tried to match the name to a face, a memory, a case file she'd memorized. Her detective's mind rarely failed her. But now, she recalled nothing. She swallowed, feeling like she'd just failed a final exam, but was determined to answer something. "I don't know. The one who gave you that ring?"

  "Oh, Piper!" Amy’s hand trembled as she wiped moisture from her eyes and turned her back.

  A knot of fear fisted under Piper's ribs. She tried to breathe deeply again, to regulate her speeding pulse. But her breath only betrayed her by becoming more and more shallow. She motioned for Amy to stop, trying to quell her own growing anxiety.

  "Amy, it's okay. I'm okay." If she could convince Amy, she could convince herself. And if she believed she was fine...

  A nurse came in, and Amy rushed across the room to her. "My sister doesn't know what day or year it is. Where's the doctor? Get him. Get him now."

  Piper was surprised at her sister. Amy never took charge. Piper was one who took care of Amy, the one who made sure what needed to get done was done, the one who saw to everything in their lives. Since their parents had died, she had been mother and father and sister, trying to give Amy what was taken from them both.

  A smile played at her lips. She had never seen her sister so forceful, so confident.

  The nurse wasn't as impressed. She tried to placate Amy as she watched the numbers on the monitor, scribbled on Piper's chart, and smiled like she was about to address an assembly of fourth-graders.

  She spoke with a smile in her voice that sounded rehearsed and routine and tired. "The doctor will be by when he makes his rounds. Are you in pain, Miss Adams? Would you like something to drink?"

  "I...where are my things? I need my purse and my phone, my badge. And my gun. Oh, god no, Amy, where's my gun?"

  "It's okay. Sean has it⁠—and the rest of your things, too." Amy gave Piper a pitying glance. "Everything's safe."

  Piper lay back against the pillows. "Thank God."

  Amy faced the nurse, determinati
on etched on every feature. "Go get someone. Please."

  The nurse pursed her lips and closed her eyes like she was about to refuse until Amy put both hands on the nurse's shoulders. "This is serious. Her brain could be swelling. Get someone."

  The nurse sighed. "I'll page her doctor and let him know you want to talk. No need to panic. Miss Adams, what are your concerns?"

  Piper looked at her sister and back to the nurse. "Can I leave?"

  "Afraid not. Not with your trauma."

  "What’s my trauma? Is my brain swelling?"

  "According to your chart, the CT scan was negative for swelling. Doctor Hodge thinks your confusion will go away soon, but he wants to run a few more tests, just to be safe. Now," she pulled Amy's hands off and whispered, "you need to calm down. With any kind of trauma, a little confusion can be a side effect. For now, the patient needs to be resting. Let's see if we can make that happen. You’ve got to be calm for her. Okay?"

  "I'm fine." Piper caught the nurse's eye and lifted her chin. "I'll be fine."

  The nurse smiled. "Yes, you will, but we want a resting heart rate, hon, not a marathon beat. You just relax. Everything's going to be okay. Where would you rate your pain on a one-to-ten scale, ten being the worst?"

  Piper moved her shoulder and felt the stab send needles down her spine. Seven. She cleared her throat. "Five."

  The nurse glanced at Amy and erased the whiteboard on the wall by the door, putting a large five beside an emoticon with a straight line for a mouth. Piper almost laughed. Ironic. The passive face mocked her from the whiteboard. She would cover up her feelings, even when her comfort depended on it.

  The nurse pointed. "Use that button if she needs anything, including something to help her relax. My shift is up in ten minutes, but the nurse coming in for the next shift will take care of you. She'll be in to check on you later."

  Amy nodded, lowering her voice and following the nurse out into the hall to talk. Piper sat forward, straining to hear.

  "Thank you. I panicked. She thinks she's still engaged to her ex. That was three years ago. It's like she's back there. I don't know what to do."

  The words she tried to hear trailed off, overtaken by the pulse in her head. Piper had wanted to know what was said, her natural inclination, but she couldn't concentrate on their conversation. Amy's words were enough. Every painful, gut-wrenching word. That was three years ago.

  Amy came back, oblivious to the world crumbling around Piper. "I'm sorry. You scared me." She picked Piper's shaking hand back up, keeping her fingers away from the IV. "It will be okay. I promise."

  Piper heard Amy but didn't process. Her mind whirled around one word. Ex. Her ex. Sean was her ex. And now it made sense. His blue eyes so startled, his strong arms stiff around her, his loving touch now cold.

  Tears sprang to her eyes. Her sister was wrong. It was not going to be okay. Her heart was pretty sure nothing would ever be okay again. It couldn't.

  "What's wrong? Are you hurting?" Amy drew in her lips and her brows as she gazed at Piper.

  Piper couldn't answer. She saw the little heart on the monitor pulsing along with her, faster and faster.

  Piper fought for her breath. "Amy?"

  Three years. She'd lost three years of her life. Three years and Sean. Her Sean. She looked at her bare finger, her stomach roiling, rejecting the truth she'd heard.

  The weight of it all was too heavy. She sunk into herself, drowning without even fighting for air. Suddenly, her lungs forced a breath and she gasped. The truth spread out before her. Her tingling cheeks heated with the humiliation of how she’d gone to him, needed him, wanted him...when all she was to him was a memory.

  A cold, distant memory.

  She was going to be sick.

  The heat-purging wave of that knowledge rushed over her, and she heaved, gagging on the burn of what little bile reached her throat. But her stomach, like her heart, was empty.

  “Piper!”

  Amy started up from the bed, but Piper pulled her back down. “Don’t”

  A knowing look passed between them. Piper wiped at her face, grazing her skin with tubes and gauze.

  Amy sat back down and squeezed her hand. "Are you okay?"

  Piper shook her head, the tears flowing whether she wanted them to or not. Only one word would come, one word of denial, one word of finality.

  "No."

  3

  How had she escaped?

  Sean peered at the SUV. It sure had taken a good hammering. He eyed the white line of paint running along the driver's side and glanced at the crushed door that was as good as welded shut. The passenger's side where she must have gotten out was still open. There was a lot of blood. It gave him an odd feeling to look at it. If he were honest with himself, it felt like his stomach had reached his knees. And was still dropping.

  He'd seen a lot of gruesome sights since he'd joined the force, some really awful ones since he'd made detective three years ago. Even in a relatively small town like Mirror Falls, there were dark edges, shadows cast on even the sunniest days. Many of those shadows still haunted him, but the sight of all the blood at this scene made him the kind of weak-sick, the kind that causes limbs to not want to move and a fine sheen of fearful sweat to betray you by coating your face and arms. Mostly because it was Piper's. Piper's blood painted on the inside of the SUV, and it hit him hard, right in the gut, straight to his heart where it pressed hard against his chest. One thought superseded all others. Thank God there was still time. He dared not ask himself for what. But at least there was a chance to say sorry and put it all behind them. If they could part friends, maybe…

  He couldn’t stop the flood of what-if’s that bombarded him and scraped up against ribs sore from holding in emotions he didn’t want to let out, couldn’t let out. He steadied himself against a tree’s thick trunk and breathed in the cool forest air before looking back at the gruesome scene that had almost taken Piper from him. He batted the thought away and willed his legs to move closer. He had to find out what had happened.

  The vehicle was totaled. The caved roof just over the driver's seat caused his stomach to clench again. Thank God she had made it out alive. A few more inches and—

  No, he didn't want to keep thinking like that. The thought wouldn't process. She was alive. Still alive.

  He licked his lips, but there was little moisture left. His mouth was powder dry. Had been since she'd shown up on his porch. Since she'd rushed into his arms like three years had never happened. Like she'd never left. Like she still loved him.

  But those years had come and gone. Their fight, the lost time... the silence.

  The knots in his stomach worked their Boy Scout best to tie off the emotions threatening to compromise his ability to examine the scene, to remember, to do his job. His mind wasn't cooperating either. All he could think about was the way Piper had clung to him, the sweet scent of her shampoo bringing back memories he'd trained to the recesses of his mind. When she'd whispered his name and looked so trustingly to him to help her, it was as if she were the same woman he'd loved, the woman who had wanted to share her life with him, not the woman who had left him for a better offer. A job she married instead of him.

  "Hey, boss, we got something you should see."

  The junior detective handed him the labeled bag. Walsh stared at him with the eagerness Sean used to have when he was trying to make full detective. When they both were, he and Piper. Flashes of words they’d both said tumbled through his mind. She’d accused him of not seeing the unfairness between them, of not supporting her, not believing her. Seemed like a different lifetime now.

  Sean's pulse quickened when he realized what he held. A bullet. "Where'd you pull this?"

  "Rear tire. Driver's side. Near the rim. But there’s a clear shot through the passenger side glass. And dents. Like this rolled quite a bit from a major push." Walsh pointed to the crushed roof. "Looks like someone was out for blood." He cringed. "Sorry. You know Mirror Falls folks are going to be p
lum scared to death when they hear about this."

  Sean didn't respond, and Walsh trained his eyes on Sean's face.

  "Piper is going to be okay. She's a tough gal. Toughest I've known."

  "Yeah. Listen." Sean pointed to the white paint running along Piper's vehicle. "I want you to put the word out we're looking for a white vehicle, scratched up, maybe dented. Ask around if anyone's seen anything or driven by."

  "Got it." Walsh popped the glove compartment and pulled out the registration papers. "Hey, boss. Did you know this was Amy's car?"

  "Hadn't gotten that far."

  Walsh tapped the papers and whistled. "Hers and that rich guy she's marrying down at the covered bridge next week, you know?"

  "That's what I hear." There was an invitation on his kitchen table with a note from Amy telling him to please come and to RSVP for beef or chicken. He'd tossed it there and looked at it every day for a month, thinking about seeing Piper again. About what it would be like to be near her, to hear her voice, maybe see her with someone else. And now this.

  Walsh tapped the papers again. "You know, I heard that Amy and her fiancé's ex had a near knock-down-drag-out of a fight not two weeks ago. You know what they say about a woman scorned."

  "And you saw this?" Sean crouched by the tire for a better look. “The fight?”

  "My sister Molly did. Amy's fiancé's attorney stayed next door at the Foleys’ and bought a bunch of Molly's scones in bulk every day. Met with the ex there too. Maybe we should talk to Molly."

  Sean stared down at the bagged bullet.

  "Suppose somebody thought they had Amy?" Walsh voiced Sean's own thoughts.

  "I don't know." All he knew was that a bullet meant business, and whoever had pushed Piper off the road wanted her dead. Had probably seen the crushed top and all the blood and thought she was. But had they meant to kill Piper or Amy?

  Sean focused on the totaled SUV.

  Walsh followed his gaze. "She sure was lucky."

  "Luck had nothing to do with it." People had crawled out of worse, but not by much.

  He had to clear his throat. His voice had come out hoarse, raw with the tightness gripping his chest. Both girls needed him now. Amy had always been like a sister to him, and if either of them were in danger, he'd do all he could to keep them safe. He knew how much Amy meant to Piper. For that reason alone, he would have protected her, but as a lonely abandoned boy, both girls had taken him under their wings, not shunned him as the kid whose own mother hadn’t wanted him. Some had. Some had been unrelentingly cruel to the poor boy whose mom had discarded him like a soiled napkin.