“This feels very secret agent-ish,” he replied. “I’m in.” He lifted his feet off the desk, reached for his mouse and pulled up a new screen. “Do you know the dates of the stories you want?”
“Only roughly. I’d like to grab that interview I did with the mayor about his embezzling staffer. That happened in February.”
“I remember,” he said. “I should be able to find that, no problem.” Within a few seconds, Gerry had located it and copied it to a flash drive.
“And the hostage situation in 2010,” I said. “There was no cameraman, but I was nearby and the first reporter on the scene. Remember? Bob had me cover it from my cell phone until the rest of the team got there.”
He gave me an appreciative, sideways glance. “Of course I remember. You were amazing that day.”
I grinned at Gerry before he returned his attention to the screen and resumed scrolling through lists of files.
“This might be it.” He clicked on a link, but it brought up one of the follow-up stories.
“It could be the one right before that.” I pointed.
“Got it.” He opened the file and found the right piece. We watched the whole thing together, then he copied it onto the flash drive as well. “Any others you want?”
“Yes, if you have a bit more time. Do you mind?”
“Not at all. Shoot.”
I wracked my brain, thinking back to all the stories I’d done over the years, and the ones I was most proud of. “I’m not sure about the exact date,” I said, “but do you remember when that Physics professor at UW was arrested for drug trafficking? I did that in-depth interview with the president of the university after the prof was arrested.”
“Wasn’t that 2007 or 2008?” Gerry asked, with a furrowed brow.
I chewed on my lower lip. “I’m not sure. It was a couple of years after I first started here, which was 2004. Can you do a search for the University of Washington?”
His fingers flew across the keys. Then he laid his hand on the mouse while we waited for a directory to pop up.
“What about that one?” I said, pointing again. “It has my name on it.”
Gerry called up the file and pressed the play button. A wide shot of the university appeared, along with the sound of my voice, introducing the piece. I began to talk about the challenges and odds of getting accepted into some of the grad programs, and realized this wasn’t the story I was searching for.
“I don’t think this is it,” Gerry said. He reached for his mouse and was about to click the stop button, when a shock wave—like a buzzing electric current—surged through me.
“Wait! Don’t stop it!” I grabbed Gerry’s arm and his mouse went flying off the desk.
“Why? What is it?”
I couldn’t seem to make my mouth work. All I could do was stare with wide eyes and a racing heart at the face on the screen—the golden-haired young man who was spellbindingly familiar. I knew those eyes. I’d seen laughter in them, sadness, anger, heartbreak. Even his voice filled me with a bewildering sense of intimacy.
Gerry rolled his chair backwards to pick up the mouse from the floor behind him.
“I know that guy,” I said, rather breathlessly as I read the caption at the bottom of the screen.
Chris Jenson
First Year Student, UW School of Dentistry
“Of course you do. You interviewed him.”
“No, I mean…I know him from somewhere else.”
Gerry wheeled his chair back to the desk, replaced the mouse on the pad, and watched me intently. “From where?”
I exhaled heavily, struggling with how to reply, because I couldn’t possibly reveal the truth. “I don’t know, I can’t put my finger on it. But I’m sure I know him.”
“It’ll probably come to you later.” Gerry gripped the mouse and moved the cursor around on the screen, as if he wanted to click on something. “Do you want this saved on the flash drive, too? Or should we keep looking for the other interview?”
“First, let me watch the rest of it, then we’ll keep looking. But yes, I definitely want this on my flash drive.”
“No prob.” Gerry stared at me with questioning eyes.
A short while later, I walked out of the newsroom in a mystified state with the flash drive in my hand. As soon as I stepped off the elevator, I called Bailey.
Chapter Eleven
“I’m so glad you answered,” I said. “I know his last name. It’s Jenson. And I interviewed him in 2004.”
“Interviewed who?” Bailey asked on the other end of the line as I walked briskly to my car.
“Chris—the guy I was married to in my vision. It was him. I know it was. There’s no doubt whatsoever. I recognized him, Bailey. He was a lot younger on the tape, but I knew him. I mean…now I know, I really knew him.”
“Okay, slow down and back up a few steps. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I explained that I had gone downtown that morning to visit the station and retrieve some old video clips to attach to my CNN resume. “And there he was!” I continued. “It was the weirdest coincidence that Gerry clicked on that file.”
“Why did you interview him?” Bailey sounded genuinely interested.
“I was doing a piece about how hard it was for students to get accepted into graduate programs like dentistry and medicine at UW. It was one of the first pieces I did after I started working here. I interviewed a couple of other students, too, but he was the one who had the most intelligent things to say.”
Bailey was quiet for a few seconds. “So what are you going to do?”
I arrived at my silver Elantra, pressed the keyless remote, unlocked the door, and got in. “Track him down, of course. He was in the dentistry program. He must be out working by now. I want to get home so I can watch this video again and then google him.”
I turned the key in the ignition, set up my phone on Bluetooth to continue the conversation, and checked my rearview mirror before pulling out.
“This is crazy,” Bailey said, still on the line. “Are you sure it was him?”
“One hundred percent.”
There was another pause on the line while I backed out of my parking space. When I shifted into first gear and started driving toward the lights, I glanced down at my dashboard display. “Are you still there?”
“Yes,” she replied, hesitantly.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you.”
“Of course not.”
“Yes, you do. You think, while I was unconscious, I had a desperate-spinster dream about some good-looking guy I met once, years ago. You think I was storing him up in my memory banks, and it was all a big fat fantasy.”
Bailey went quiet again. “Maybe. Seriously, Katelyn, what else could it be? You never married this guy or had a son with him. I’m not sure what you’re hoping to find if you go searching for him.”
“I don’t know either,” I replied, feeling suddenly uneasy. “And I’m not convinced it wasn’t the future I saw. I’m not even sure he’ll remember me. Please don’t think I’m nuts.”
“I don’t think that.”
I came to a stop sign and paused momentarily, then hit the gas—and drove straight into the path of an oncoming car. My stomach exploded with panic as I slammed on the breaks. My tires screeched to a halt as the other driver swerved wildly into the center of the intersection, barely missing my front bumper. He honked his horn noisily and shook his fist at me.
“Geez,” I said to Bailey as I put my hands on my head and squeezed big clumps of my hair. “I nearly hit someone.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I replied, checking left and right with extra care before pressing the gas and crossing the intersection. “But I’m way too distracted to be driving.”
“Why don’t you hang up and call me when you get home,” she suggested. “Or do you want me to come over?”
“Maybe that would be best,” I replied. “You can k
eep me from doing anything stupid, because obviously I’m flying off the rails here.”
“I’ll see you shortly.”
Chapter Twelve
Bailey was already parked in front of my house when I arrived, hit the garage door opener, and pulled inside. I got out, slung my purse over my shoulder, and waited for her to walk up my paved driveway.
“Thanks for coming over,” I said, moving to the front door. “I can’t believe how wound up I am. It took every ounce of my self-control not to google him from my phone while I was at a stoplight.”
“That could have been disastrous. After what just happened, you should know better than to text and drive.”
“Which is why I didn’t do it,” I replied, holding the door open for her. “But I’m dying to get to my computer.”
We walked into my mudroom, kicked off our shoes and dropped our purses onto the bench.
“I’ll show you the video of him first, so you can see what he looks like. He looks exactly like he did in my flashback.”
“It wasn’t a flashback,” she reminded me.
“I know, I know, but I hate calling it a dream or a vision, because it still feels like a memory. Especially the stuff that involved Logan.”
A rush of anticipation moved through me at the notion of finding the boy I’d envisioned as my son—although rationally, I knew it couldn’t possibly be true. Because if I’d had an actual biological son, I would most certainly know about it.
“Maybe this is all a big conspiracy,” I said, “like in Total Recall where Schwarzenegger had his memories erased and they planted him in another fake life where he was married to Sharon Stone, who turned out to be his enemy. Maybe Mark was my Sharon Stone.”
Bailey followed me. “Congratulations. Now you’re sounding totally crazy.”
We went straight to my computer desk in the family room and turned on the power. I inserted the flash drive into the USB port and within seconds, the video piece about the UW grad schools came up.
“That’s him,” I said, pointing. “Does he look familiar to you?”
Bailey, who stood behind my chair, leaned closer over my shoulder, studied his face, and shook her head. “Not at all. He’s cute, though.”
“That was just over ten years ago,” I told her. “So I don’t know what he might look like now. Let’s find out.”
I opened another window and searched for the name Chris Jenson, dentist in Seattle. Thousands of web pages appeared, but there were no dentists in the city by that name.
“He might have moved somewhere else,” Bailey said. “Or never graduated. Maybe he hated putting his hands in other people’s mouths and is doing something else now.”
I let out a breath and sat back in my chair, staring at the computer screen intently.
Where are you?
With a sudden tingling sensation in my fingertips, I sat forward again.
“This is probably a long shot, but let’s search for Dentists in Maine—Chris Jenson.”
I typed the words quickly and hit Enter. The little circle spun around and around while I waited with bated breath, bouncing my foot repeatedly on the floor.
At last, a new listing of web pages loaded onto my screen, and the one at the top sent ripples of goose bumps across my entire body. I had pins and needles everywhere.
Hastily, I clicked on it.
“Are you serious?” Bailey said, bending forward to stare.
I covered my mouth with my hand as the website’s homepage loaded.
“This is nuts.” I looked up at her. “So what do we do now?”
Chapter Thirteen
After making a pot of coffee, I returned to the computer desk and sat down. “Should I just call his office and ask to speak to him?”
I probably shouldn’t have bothered with the coffee, because I was already wired. I couldn’t keep still.
“And say what?” Bailey replied. “He doesn’t know you. He’ll think you’re insane if you tell him you had a dream about him—where you were married and had a son together, where you spent summers on the beach in Maine.”
“That’s true. I have no idea what I would say. Part of me just wants to tell him the truth and ask if he ever had any near-death visions like that.”
Bailey thought about that. “He’ll still think you’re a nutcase. Besides, what else do you know about him? He could be married with a family of his own and his wife might think you’re a husband stealer. Or maybe he’s a cocaine addict, or some kind of weird freak.”
I heard what Bailey was saying, but her words seemed to float over my head without really sinking in.
“I’ve never been to Maine,” I said contemplatively.
Bailey gave me a look. “I know what you’re thinking. You want to go there.”
“Why not? I could just…” I thought about it for a few seconds. “I could make an appointment to have my teeth cleaned.”
“Careful. You’re starting to sound like a stalker.”
“Well, I have to do something.” I leaned forward in my chair and placed my hands over the keyboard. “Let’s just find out if he’s single. It’s an important fact to know, don’t you think? It will affect how I handle this.” I typed in his name again, and another link popped up. As soon as I saw the image, my stomach exploded with fascination.
“Oh.” Bailey laid a hand on the back of my chair. “I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised—a good-looking guy like that, and a dentist to boot. He’s a great catch. She’s a lucky woman. Wow, gorgeous.”
I stared, transfixed, at the photo for a long moment, taking in the bride’s simple, classic wedding gown and white flower arrangement. Her blond hair was pulled into a loose knot at her nape and spiraled tendrils framed her face. She had a sparkling, joyful smile.
Chris also smiled as they walked down the church aisle, surrounded by family and friends.
“Look at the date,” Bailey said. “They were married just last February. They’re newlyweds.” She squeezed my shoulder. “Sorry, Katelyn.”
“It’s okay,” I replied with surprising resilience, glancing up at Bailey. “Really, I’m not devastated, even though I thought he might be my future husband. This is so weird. I think a part of me expected this, and it doesn’t change anything. I still want to talk to him. And her.”
“But why?” Bailey asked.
I sat forward and began to type again. “I just need to know why I saw what I saw.”
Bailey went to the kitchen and helped herself to a cup of coffee, then returned to the computer and leaned on the edge of the desk, facing me. “You’re still thinking about the boy.”
Trying to ignore the note of concern in her voice, I scanned the computer screen, searching everywhere on the web. “Now I’m wondering if Chris has any kids, maybe from a previous marriage.”
Nothing popped up to suggest he had children. The lack of an answer frustrated me.
I let out a breath and propped my elbows on the desk, cupped my forehead in my hand. “Lord, maybe I am going crazy. I don’t know what’s happening to me. You should have me committed.”
Bailey gave no reply. She simply watched me, waiting to see what I would do next.
I sat back and drummed my fingers on the mousepad, then stood up and went to the kitchen to look at my calendar, which was tacked to the wall next to the refrigerator.
Bailey followed me and set her water glass down on the island’s countertop. “I can see the wheels turning,” she said. “I’m afraid to ask. But what are your intentions, Katelyn?”
I turned to face her. “I want to visit Maine. I have a bunch of vacation days owed to me, and my boss has been encouraging me to take them. I could probably get some time off this week. I could even go tonight if I can get on a flight.”
Bailey’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “Part of me does thinks you’re crazy, but another part of me admires your determination and sense of adventure.”
“You should come with me,” I suggested. “We could make a vacation of it
and lie on the beach, drink lots of wine and eat lobster. We could stay in some quaint little Victorian bed and breakfast with a view of the Atlantic. Wouldn’t that be great? Besides, I could really use a friend, just in case I really am losing my mind. Could you take a few days off?”
Bailey inclined her head as she thought about it. “I’m the boss. I can take time off whenever I like.”
We regarded each other for a long moment, our thoughts percolating….
“Do you feel like checking out some flights?” I asked.
“I’m on it.” Bailey whipped out her phone and wagged her finger at my computer. “You go and look for a nice hotel. Where are we going, exactly? Portland?”
“Yes, that’s where Chris’s dental practice is. I’ll see if there’s anything nearby, on the water.”
While she searched for flights on her phone, I sat down at the computer. Without looking up, she mentioned, “I’m only coming along to keep you out of trouble.”
“Of course, I appreciate that, but don’t pretend you’re not loving this. I know how much you enjoy a good mystery. And you’ve always wanted to see the Atlantic. We’ll visit some lighthouses. You know…I used to be obsessed with lighthouses when I was a kid.” I keyed in a search for hotel accommodations around Portland, and scrolled through a number of options before my eyes zeroed in on a magnificent white Palladian-style mansion that caused my whole body to quiver. Please, let it be on the water.
I clicked on the link, saw a view of the Atlantic at sunrise beyond a rocky beach at the edge of the lawn, and knew, without a doubt, that it would be the perfect place for us.
“How about this?” I glanced over my shoulder. Bailey moved closer to check it out. “It’s just outside Portland, in a coastal community called Cape Elizabeth.”
“It looks beautiful,” she said. “Can we each have our own room?”
I picked up my phone. “I’ll check on that right now.”
The Color of Forever Page 4
