“Where would you have parked?” Roland slid forward in the backseat and rested his arm on the back of my seat. Wind from Jarret’s open window made Roland’s dark hair dance on his forehead and drew attention to the investigative squint of his eyes. The inner workings of his newly-trained detective’s mind showed through pupils surrounded by steel gray irises.
“There’re three or four parking areas,” Jarret said before I got a chance to shrug my shoulders.
While I loved parks and walking in the woods, I didn’t remember this park at all. North Carolina’s woods seemed different, lighter and thinner than the forests of South Dakota. Nothing looked familiar.
Jarret glanced over his shoulder at his brother. “She would’ve parked in the back one.”
“What makes you think that?”
Jarret’s eyes narrowed as he made a second over-the-shoulder glance. “She’s my wife.”
“Well—”
“Whenever we met here, that’s where we parked. We never parked anywhere else. And if she was meeting that girl here, she probably told her to meet at the back pavilion. It’s the nicest one.”
Roland nodded but didn’t look convinced.
We parked in the back lot at the end of a row of a dozen parking spots that butted up to the woods. One other car sat on the opposite end, its driver and a yellow lab staring out the windows. Across the road, sat an empty playground. The quiet swings, slides, and sprawling tan climbing structure were probably crawling with children an hour ago, parents watching from the surrounding benches. The sign at the park entrance informed that the “park closes at dusk,” which explained the lack of people and why no one had reported suspicious behavior that night.
“You left work around six, right?” Roland cracked open his door.
“I think so,” I said. “You’re thinking this is the time I would’ve been here that Friday.”
He nodded before getting out of the car.
Jarret stood next to the driver’s side, scanning the area, hands on hips and sunglasses folded and stuck in the collar of his shirt.
As I walked to him around the front of the car, a familiar but uncomfortable feeling washed through me, and goose bumps broke out on my skin.
“Where’s the pavilion?” Roland came up behind us.
“You can’t see it from here.” Jarret pointed. “It’s back that-a way. There’s a short path.”
“Jarret...” Standing before him, I hesitated to ask my question. I’d heard that the best way to regain a memory was to try to recreate the incident. “Would you let down your hair?”
A faint grin flickered on his face as if he thought I was flirting. He glanced at Roland, who turned away.
I pulled the shades from his shirt. “And put these on.”
His eyebrows drew together. “Why? The sun’s going down.” He obediently pulled the band from his hair as he spoke. Then he let me put the glasses over his curious and confused brown eyes.
“Caitlyn.” Roland’s tone sounded firm, like a parent’s warning. He came closer as I ran my fingers through Jarret’s hair, arranging the curls around his face. “You don’t think—”
I gave him a glance. “No, Roland. I don’t think that. I just want to recreate what I remember. He has long dark hair. So—”
“Think what? What’re you talking about?” Jarret whisked the hair from his shoulders with one quick sweeping motion, messing up the image I was trying to create. I reached for his hair again, but he grabbed my wrist. “You want to tell me? What’re you talking about? Why’s my hair down? Why am I wearing sunglasses?”
I wriggled my hand free and touched the front neckline of his shirt. “For the same reason you’re going to pull this up over your nose.”
He opened his mouth as if to ask but said nothing. Instead, he faced Roland, perhaps thinking he stood a better chance of getting a straight answer from him.
Roland shrugged and shook his head. “Caitlyn, are you going to tell him?”
“Oh, I guess so.” I backed up and folded my arms. “I had a memory of, well, I was getting out of my car. And I think you’re right. This feels like the spot, maybe the exact spot I parked in.” I turned in a circle, scanning the area. “As I got out of the car and closed the door...” I faced him again. “... I saw a man in the side mirror.”
Jarret whipped the glasses off, worry or anger flashing in his eyes. “What? Why didn’t you tell me? What man?”
I stepped back. “I don’t know. He was tall. He wore sunglasses and a handkerchief covered his mouth. And, well, he had long dark hair.”
Jarret’s expression turned hard. He stepped toward me.
I didn’t step back. “His hair covered most of his face.”
He glanced at Roland then scowled at me.
“I don’t think it was you,” I said, defensive. “It’s just the memory I have. Mike did say I might get pieces of my memories mixed up, so maybe the image of the man has nothing to do with anything. But it’s what I remember.”
“Maybe you came here because, because of me, but I didn’t hurt you.” His fiery eyes burned with hurt and betrayal.
I took his warm, calloused hands into mine, and his expression immediately softened. “I know you didn’t. I don’t suspect you. I just want to recreate my memory. Maybe I can remember who did hurt me?”
His gaze bounced around, as if he found it hard to look at me, as if I had flat out accused him of attacking me.
“Please?” I touched his cheek and ran my fingers along his stubbly jaw. His gaze became mine. “I think it’ll help.”
He nodded, gave me a quick kiss, and put the shades back on. I arranged his hair again and had him stand a short distance behind the car.
“I had just climbed out of the car.” I opened the driver’s side door. “As I closed the door, I saw him in the mirror.” I moved the door enough to catch Jarret’s reflection. Startled, I gasped.
My attacker’s hair hung like a curtain. The bandana hid other features that would’ve identified him. But it was the black sunglasses, aimed at me, that chilled me to the bone.
“Why didn’t you get back in the car?” Jarret said. “If I, uh, if he was standing right here—”
“He wasn’t standing. He was moving toward me and I had closed the door. I only glimpsed him in the mirror as the door swung shut. The door was closed and locked by the time I sensed danger. I purposely didn’t look directly at him. I didn’t want him to realize I had seen him. I thought he might rush me.”
Roland turned, scanning the area. “So you dashed into the woods?”
Jarret stepped toward me, increasing the uneasiness that prickled my soul. “Yes, I think I did.” Since that was how I remembered it happening, I slammed the car door and dashed into the woods.
I tried not to think of Roland’s presence, or of Jarret being Jarret. I tried to think of the man in the shades chasing me. The undergrowth of weeds, vines, and prickly plants scraped my bare legs, tried to trip me up, and made running difficult. I had to cut over to the path. The path... Where was the path? Instinctively, I headed to the right. A few yards later, I stumbled out onto a trail.
Branches cracked behind me.
Jarret swore and muttered something. Roland’s response was too loud to ignore. “Chill out. She’s trying to recreate that night. Just go along with it.”
I squelched the desire to laugh and tried to assume a panicky frame of mind.
Their footfalls came fast. They—he was gaining on me. I couldn’t stay on the path. He’d see me. He’d overtake me in no time.
I peered through the woods, hoping to catch sight of someone, a lingering walker, anyone who hadn’t left the park yet, anyone who could help. But it was dusk and the park was closed. There wouldn’t be anyone. We were alone.
An impression formed in my mind. A major road ran along the woods a few miles east. I knew the woods. Maybe I could lose him. I couldn’t let him see me leave the path.
I risked a glance over my shoulder, then stopped
... to laugh.
Jarret and Roland jogged side by side, thirty yards back. Jarret still wore his hair down, but the sunglasses were folded and hanging from the neckline of his shirt again. He shoved Roland. Roland shoved back. They were bickering about something.
“Are you guys going to help?” I folded my arms across my chest. “Or are you just going to bicker like a couple of kids?”
They caught up to me, panting.
“Is there a major road this way?” I pointed east.
Roland looked to Jarret.
“Yeah, I think so,” Jarret said. “These woods are pretty big, but I think a road— Yeah, if you were gonna run through the woods to get help... You wouldn’t want to head back to the park. It’d be empty so, yeah, you’d probably go that way.”
I gave a satisfied grin.
“You remember that?” Jarret said.
“I remember thinking he was gaining on me, going to catch me, if I didn’t outsmart him. So I wanted to leave the path and, I guess, sneak to the road.”
“It’s still pretty far.”
“Well, let’s go. Let’s find a good, sneaky path.”
When the path rounded a bend, the three of us left it and pushed into the woods. A group of elm trees with thick trunks grew close together a few yards in. I would’ve probably headed for them. They would hide me from my pursuer’s view. Then I would’ve angled back, trying to weave from one hiding place to another.
Roland pointed out an overgrown hawthorn bush. The surrounding short bushes and clusters of plants and weeds made it the only choice. We jogged to the hawthorn bush. The sunlight peeked in here and there through the canopy of leaves, but shadows and darkness grew with each passing minute.
From the hawthorn bush, we spotted a cluster of pines. But as we crunched over the needles and cones, we decided it would’ve been a bad choice. Maybe there was a better hiding place. We stood under the pines, peering into the woods around us, searching for hiding spots.
“Over there.” Jarret pointed to an outcropping of rocks.
My heart skipped a beat. I would definitely have run to that if we were still headed in the right direction. I glanced up to find the angle of the sun. Yes, the rocks lay east of the path.
We forged ahead to the rocks, heaviness growing within me.
Jarret walked beside me, his fingers brushing mine a few times, as if he wanted to hold hands. But I made no move to take his hand. I needed to recreate the feelings of that night. I must’ve felt alone and frightened, running for my life. Had he hidden his face to avoid being identified later? Was it someone I knew?
We reached the outcropping of rocks. I stopped and let Roland and Jarret investigate. At the far end of the outcropping stood the tallest rock, one about four feet high, rectangular in shape, and just the right size to hide someone. The other rocks were lower and flat and stretched out as long as a car.
The outcropping would make good climbing rocks for kids, a good place to make believe. How easily it could become a pirate ship on the ocean, a frontier home in the wilderness, or a temple to some strange god. Or. A good place to stop and see if you’re still being followed.
A tingling sensation crawled down my spine. I glanced over my shoulder. He had followed me here. This is where we fought. I had stooped to hide, and he stepped out from behind—
I spun around.
Three trees, joined at the trunk, stood eight feet away. He had been waiting behind them, I’d realized too late. I had crouched to catch my breath behind the rock. A shadow moved. Before I could straighten up, he stepped out from behind the tree.
“Caitlyn, look!” Jarret said, his voice distant.
I gazed at the three trees that had grown into one and in my mind...
I saw him. A shadow. Not a shadow. My pulse pounded in my ears and throat, hard like a warning drum inside me. Dressed all in black, his face concealed by a handkerchief, sunglasses, and dark hair... He meant to harm me. Screaming would do no good. No one would hear me. We were well inside the woods, though not yet halfway through, by my estimation. I would have to fight him.
“What... do you want?” I said, trying to catch my breath. “My purse... is in the car. I have no money.”
He shook his head.
I shouldn’t take my eyes off him. He was tall, so much bigger than I was. I would need something for a weapon. I glanced away, my gaze darting to the ground. If I could find a rock or a branch... A fist-sized rock lay at my feet. I stooped. My finger brushed the rock—
Hands landed hard on my shoulders, pushing my back against a rock. My feet flew out from under me. Pain shot through me and the air left my lungs.
Sitting with my back to the rock, I gasped to breathe. No air would come. Need to breathe.
He crouched, hovered over me, leaned one arm against my chest and groped through my jacket. “Where is it?” he whispered in a harsh tone.
Overwhelmed with fear, I dragged in a breath of air. I wanted to ask him, “What? What do you want?” but no sound came out.
His arm weighed heavy on my chest. His face, now hidden in the darkness of night, hovered inches from mine. Had he removed the glasses?
Gaining an ounce of courage, I spat.
He drew his hand back as if to slap me, while I forced my body into action and thrust my knee to his groin. He cursed but barely swayed. Then he jerked his hand back again.
I turned away, bracing myself. His hand struck the side of my head with a sharp pain. A groan escaped me.
He reached for my neck.
I shrieked, clawing at his hand. I twisted, turned, tried to wrestle free, but his weight...
He pushed me against the hard rock, holding me captive with one arm, searching me with his free hand. “Ahh...” He unzipped my jacket, yanked the camera that hung around my neck, and lessened his grip on me.
In an instant, I twisted away and flung myself face first to the ground. Free of him, I groped the ground for the rock—
Hands clamped to my arms. He yanked me to my feet.
Gripping the rock I had snatched from the ground so tightly my fingers ached, I raised my hand.
He saw it. He grabbed my hand and forced the rock toward me.
I opened my fingers to let the rock go, but he held it now. It came down fast and with great force.
Pain. Pain shot through my head. White light blinded me. Darkness.
I gasped.
“Caitlyn!”
The memory faded and Jarret stood before me, his features barely visible in the dwindling light. He clutched my shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head, unwilling to speak of it.
“Hey, look what else I found.” Roland crouched by the outcropping. He straightened with a necklace dangling from his hand. “Isn’t this Caitlyn’s?”
Jarret snatched it from him and stood with his back to me, staring at it. He slowly turned to me, his face twitching all over. “Do you know what happened? Do you... remember?”
I inhaled and nodded. “He caught me here.” I pointed to the trees. “He came out from behind there and...”
“And what?” Jarret approached me again. Two sunglasses hung from the neckline of his shirt, one dirty and cracked.
“Those are his.” I backed away.
“What happened? What did he do to you?” Jarret locked me in his gaze.
“We found your keys and your phone.” Roland broke into the uncomfortable moment. “It’s smashed. Deliberately. What else would you have had on you?”
“Let’s get out of here. It’s getting dark.” I took off without waiting for their assent.
Jarret came up behind and snatched my hand.
I gasped and tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go.
“Wrong way,” he said, clinging to me.
I looked around. He was right. The path headed west. But I remembered going the other way. I remembered waking up by the rocks, seeing only darkness, trembling from the cold, my head throbbing with pain. I remembered the sound of dista
nt traffic and staggering in that direction, staggering over roots and through brush, groping my way through the shadows of the night until at long last, I reached the road.
CHAPTER 40
I MOVED MECHANICALLY, spreading out my notes and the papers and pictures that had possible connections to Amnesia Friday. My recovered memories left me uneasy and wanting to pore over my notes alone. With Jarret at work, I had the house to myself and the perfect opportunity.
As I laid out the pictures that had come from my camera, my gaze drifted to the patio doors and through them to the white billowing tablecloth and vases of lavender and violet flowers. Jarret’s romantic proposal and the wonderfully unexpected talk he gave at the high school now seemed like distant memories that barely related to me. The experience at the park overshadowed everything and weighed on my mind, making it difficult for me to focus on much else.
The flashback had been so vivid, as if I had re-lived the moment. And my attacker... I had not recognized him, yet he seemed familiar. I couldn’t help thinking I knew him.
My attacker wanted my camera. And since we couldn’t find it anywhere in the area, he must’ve been successful. All other motives became irrelevant. I whisked from the display every motive sheet but that one and dropped them into a pile on the floor.
The “JEALOUSY” motive sheet lay on the top of the pile. Did I still feel any lingering suspicion about Jarret? Every troubling assumption I’d made about him had turned out to be wrong. I knew the real Jarret now, and I liked what I knew.
Something about Friday and him still made me uneasy. He’d admitted worrying that he was responsible for my amnesia. The memory of our argument came to mind. Could he have been drunk and not able to remember the night any more than I could?
No. My attacker wanted the camera. What would Jarret want with it? He’d had it earlier that day and gave it back. My attacker had something to fear in one of the pictures on my camera.
I rearranged the pictures on the table, knowing I would have to dig deeper into the cases related to them. It was lucky that Sean and I had prints made that afternoon. The attacker wouldn’t have known that, but wait... Had I taken another picture after that? Without my memory, I had no way of knowing.
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