by Shelly Bell
His frustration lingered over not being able to recall what he’d overheard that night. “Nothing that’s going to help.”
India leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I don’t know you, Cash, so I’m not capable of making a full assessment based on one session, but I can give you my gut impression. I don’t think you’re dealing with a brain injury. I believe the details about that night are there, available for you to access, when you’re ready to face them.”
“You think I’m choosing to forget that night because I don’t want to know?” Cash stood from the couch, his fingernails poking into the skin of his palms. “That’s bullshit. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to know what happened.”
India tilted her head and put both hands up in a defensive manner. “Forgive me. That’s not what I’m trying to imply. The brain can repress events it perceives as a threat. The night ended in tragedy. It’s possible there’s a part of you that wants to protect you from reliving it.”
“Then why wouldn’t he remember everything up to the crash?” Dreama asked. “He recalled almost everything until he overheard the two men speaking.”
Something tugged at his mind. Although he hadn’t seen them, he thought he’d recognized a voice. He hadn’t heard it in years, so he couldn’t be certain, but he knew one way to find out.
Like that night, he needed to speak with Thomas.
“I don’t know,” India said, rising from the love seat and moving closer to him. “But I wouldn’t give up hope. Now that you’ve begun the process of recalling that night, it’s possible you’ll start to remember other pieces as well. Give it time.”
Time.
They should have plenty.
So, why then did it feel as if they were running out of it?
TWENTY
The next morning, Cash slid into the restaurant booth across the table from Thomas. “Thanks for agreeing to see me.”
Thomas poured a creamer into his coffee. “My secretary had already canceled my appointments for this morning, so it’s no inconvenience. Besides, I never say no to macadamia nut pancakes.”
After his session with India, he’d needed some time alone to process everything. He’d told Dreama he wanted to sleep apart for a night. He’d missed having Dreama beside him, but in the end, he’d made the right decision. He’d barely slept, too busy replaying his recovered memories over and over in his head.
As he’d lain in bed, other things had come back to him, like the music that had been playing and the smell of animals in the air. But still, there were memories that remained out of reach, as if they were locked in a filing cabinet in his brain and he only needed to find the key to open it.
He wondered if India was right and that part of him didn’t want to know what happened that night. Even while hypnotized, there were things about Maddie he still refused to say out loud. He’d never told a soul about her suicidal threats and the ways she’d manipulated him into staying with her. Her parents were both alcoholics and had severed ties with her when she went off to college. They hadn’t even come to their wedding. Maybe that was why Maddie had clung so tightly to him. She’d been looking for someone to take care of her, and he’d been too young to understand she needed psychiatric care and not a boyfriend.
If he hadn’t told her he wanted a divorce, would that night have ended differently? He must have asked himself that question thousands of times throughout the years, and he still didn’t have an answer, because every time he started down that path, the same wall that had blocked him during hypnosis slammed down, separating him from coming too close to the truth.
Maddie had been mentally ill. Was it possible she had somehow caused the accident? He’d come out of the hypnosis with a lingering sense of betrayal. What would be worse than finding out Maddie had intended for him to die along with her?
At the same time, he couldn’t discount the theory that Browner had something to hide.
Cash had lied to Dreama last night. He had learned something significant from the hypnosis. He was almost positive that the familiar voice he’d overheard the night of the accident belonged to Kevin Sanders, one of the witnesses who claimed to have seen Cash drinking. But until he was sure, he didn’t want Dreama to know.
That’s why Cash had called Thomas early this morning and asked to meet for breakfast.
“I need to ask you about Kevin Sanders,” Cash said after the waitress took their order.
Thomas couldn’t have looked more surprised. “Sanders? What about him?”
Cash flipped a creamer over in his hand, weighing how much he wanted to tell Thomas. “The night of the accident, I might have overheard a conversation between him and another person.”
Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m confused. You said before you didn’t have any memory of that night.”
“I’m starting to remember.”
“After all these years?” Thomas asked. “Did something happen to cause your memory to return?”
Cash hated to admit it, but he didn’t have much of a choice. “I saw a shrink. She hypnotized me,” he mumbled.
If Thomas thought it was ridiculous, thank goodness he kept his opinion to himself. “What do you think you heard?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know.” Frustrated, Cash took a giant gulp of his coffee. “I was on my way to see you when I heard two men talking. I stopped to listen, but it was too dark to see them. One of the voices was familiar.”
Thomas frowned. “And you think it was Kevin Sanders.”
Sanders was one of three who’d given a statement to the police that Cash had been drinking. When would Sanders have witnessed it if the man had been outside the tent?
As Cash ruminated on that question, the waitress came by and topped off their coffee mugs, promising their pancakes would be up shortly.
“That night, did I mention anything to you about overhearing a conversation?” Cash asked.
“No, but to be fair, I might have not given you a chance.” Thomas grimaced. “I was running around quite a lot that night. In fact, right after our toast, I went onstage to give a speech.”
“I don’t remember our toast.” If Thomas wasn’t inside the tent prior to their toast, how could he have seen Cash drinking the first glass of champagne?
Thomas put his mug down on the table and sat back, folding his arms over his chest. “Kevin Sanders still works for me. He’s vice president of operations now. I’ll talk with him. See what he remembers.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll get the information some other way.” Thomas was a scientist, not a detective. If Sanders had something to hide, Cash didn’t want to put Thomas in his crosshairs.
“If it’s important to you to remember that night, it’s important to me. Don’t worry.” Thomas gave Cash a look that said he understood his apprehension. “I’ll be as subtle as I can when I ask him about it.”
What was the worst that could happen? If Sanders was working with Browner, he already knew Cash was digging into his past.
“Thank you,” Cash said, appreciative of Thomas’s offer. But he was still wondering how Thomas could have witnessed him drinking before the toast. “You said you saw me drinking twice at the party.”
Thomas wrapped his hand around his mug. “When you and I shared a toast and then again later.”
That wasn’t what he’d told Cash previously. “I thought you saw me drinking before our toast.”
Thomas nodded as he lifted the coffee to his mouth. “That’s right. Sorry. It’s been a long time.”
Cash couldn’t fault him for forgetting a detail or two. Not when there were huge chunks missing from his own memory. Even so, the inconsistency left him unsettled and for the first time, he considered Thomas wasn’t being completely honest with him.
“It’s weird,” Cash said. “My toxicology report came back positive for alcohol and marijuana.”
Thomas raised one silver brow. “Marijuana?”
“Before you ask, no, I d
idn’t smoke or otherwise use marijuana.” At least he knew that much. “I think the report was doctored in some way.”
Deep lines materialized on Thomas’s forehead. “Why? What purpose would someone have to alter your results?”
Wasn’t that the million-dollar question.
“I don’t know, but I’m not going to stop until I find out.”
Dreama’s car slid along the ice as she pumped the brakes. It had been steadily snowing since last night and forecasters predicted they’d get another three inches before lunchtime. At least the freezing rain had stopped. The area’s school districts had closed for the day, but unfortunately for her, government offices remained open. Still, she’d called her clients to give them an opportunity to reschedule their appointments for another day and they’d all taken her up on the offer. That left her with this morning free to perform the obligatory random parolee home checks.
Parking in the driveway, she wrapped her scarf around her neck and got out of the car. The house was an adorable redbrick Tudor with white shutters and a large picture window on the first floor. Christmas lights hung from the branches of a small tree adjacent to the home’s oversized front porch. Thank goodness the sidewalk was clear. With the weather exacerbating her nerve pain, walking was extra difficult this morning.
Her stomach tumbled as she limped toward the front door. She didn’t know why she was so nervous. She completed home checks all the time. Oh, who was she kidding? This one meant more to her because it was for Cash. Although the parole office rules restricted her from giving advance notice of her visit, he’d mentioned last night that he wasn’t scheduled to work this morning.
After his hypnosis session, he’d walked her to her car and suggested they sleep apart that night. As much as she’d hoped to have him in her bed again, the hypnosis had left him visibly unsettled. Retrieving some of his memories from the night of the accident had obviously taken a toll on him. She didn’t blame him for needing to be alone to process it all. It was unfortunate that he hadn’t learned anything that could help him. Hopefully India was right and he’d remember more with time.
As for sleep, it hadn’t come easy last night, but she was proud to say she’d slept alone in her bed for the first time since moving into the apartment. To anyone else, that wouldn’t mean much, but to her, it was a major accomplishment.
Shivering from the cold, she slowly and carefully climbed the porch steps and rang the doorbell. Wind whipped the snow at her back and every time she exhaled, the condensation from her breath created clouds.
The door opened and a woman appeared. “Can I help you?”
“My name is Dreama Agosto,” she said, pulling her card from her coat pocket and handing it over. “I’m Cash Turner’s parole officer, and I’m here to do a random home check.”
The woman glanced at the card. “Cash isn’t here. I’m Rebecca, his sister.”
“Is he at work?” Dreama schooled her expression, not wanting to give away her disappointment over his absence. Although she had to admit to herself, she was intrigued to finally meet the sister he’d spoken so much about.
“No, I think he’s running some errands. I’m not sure when he’ll be back.”
“As part of his parole, I’m expected to search the house for prohibited items like alcohol, drugs, and weapons. It’s not necessary for him to be here. Would you mind if I came in? It should only take a few minutes.” Legally, she didn’t require permission, but in her experience, she found people responded better if they believed they had a choice.
Smiling wide, Rebecca waved her inside. “I don’t mind at all. You must be freezing. Come on in.”
If Cash hadn’t already mentioned he and Rebecca were adopted, she might have wondered how two siblings could look so different. While Cash was her gentle giant with his large hands, gray eyes, and light complexion, Rebecca was short and small-boned, with brown eyes and radiant dark skin.
Dreama stepped into the house, getting her first glimpse into where Cash not only currently resided, but also where he’d grown up. She removed her coat and tugged off her snowy boots.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Rebecca asked. “Coffee?”
Warming up, Dreama’s toes tingled. She discreetly massaged her thigh, hoping the pain would decrease now that she was inside. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
Rebecca beamed. She was so warm and friendly that it immediately put Dreama at ease. “It’s not. I was just about to get a cup for myself.”
Anything hot sounded like bliss at the moment. “Well, then sure.”
“How do you take it?”
As long as it was coffee, Dreama would drink it. “Black is fine.”
Rebecca pointed to the closet. “If you’d like, you can hang up your coat in there. Feel free to look around while I get our coffee.”
As Rebecca disappeared around the corner, Dreama hung up her coat. Turning toward the family room on her left, she nearly jumped when a white cat without ears darted past her. She laughed quietly. According to what Cash had mentioned, there should be another one lurking around somewhere.
Dreama started her search in the adjacent family room. The space was cozy with a pale blue couch with an oak coffee table in front of it and a flat-screen television on the wall across from it. On the left side of the room there was a small bookshelf. She knelt beside it, checking out the titles. The novels were a mix of thrillers, romance, and science-fiction. All appeared worn, as if they’d been read several times.
Beyond the family room was the dining room made up of a rectangular six-seater table and china cabinet. The home’s layout was similar to her parents’ house located twenty minutes away, only theirs was a traditional colonial rather than a Tudor. In her head, she could almost imagine a younger Cash sitting at the table with his sister and parents.
After passing by the kitchen, she stopped in the hallway to check out the numerous photographs on the wall. As she looked at the wedding photo of Cash’s parents, her throat thickened. Even with her overprotective mother, Dreama was fortunate to have parents who were alive and well.
“Here’s your coffee,” Rebecca said, yanking her out of her musings and handing her a steaming mug.
Dreama took a sip of her coffee, unable to pull herself from the photographs. It was as if Cash’s life story was all there on the wall for her to see. There were photos of him dressed up as Batman and Rebecca dressed as Catwoman, both holding trick-or-treat pumpkin baskets, and the whole family at Disney standing with Mickey Mouse.
“How old was he there?” she asked, pointing at the photo of Cash in a football uniform, together with his team, holding a trophy.
Rebecca lovingly touched the photo with her fingertip. “Twelve, I think. He was good, so good he earned a scholarship to college.”
With his solid build, she didn’t doubt it. Her gaze drifted over to a picture from Cash’s wedding. Wearing a tuxedo, he held Maddie’s face in his hands as if he was about to kiss her. It might have made her jealous if it wasn’t for the expression on his face. This past week, Dreama had learned what Cash looked like when he wanted to kiss her, and it was nothing like the one in the photograph.
“That’s Maddie. Cash’s late wife,” Rebecca said.
Dreama’s cheeks heated when she realized she’d been staring at that wedding photo for much too long. “She was beautiful.”
“Mmm. That’s about all she was,” Rebecca muttered.
“You didn’t like her?”
Rebecca sighed and tilted her head to the side. “I can’t say I ever got to know Maddie very well, but what I did know…Let’s just say my mom and I tolerated her for Cash’s sake.” She turned to Dreama. “There was something not right about her.”
“What do you mean?” Dreama asked. Cash hadn’t spoken much about Maddie or his marriage.
“I don’t know exactly. He wasn’t affectionate with her, but she was constantly hanging onto his arm. In the time they were together, I don’t think I ever had a conversa
tion with her without Cash by her side, and he was always tense around her. He has this nervous habit of—”
“Tapping his fingers,” Dreama said, realizing too late that in finishing Rebecca’s sentence, she’d shown an overfamiliarity with Cash.
“Yes.” Rebecca’s lips curved up. “But you’re not here to listen to gossip about Cash’s marriage.”
Maybe Dreama the parole officer wasn’t, but Dreama the woman was eagerly gobbling up every bit of information about Cash that she could.
“You know, Cash didn’t mention that his parole officer was a woman,” Rebecca continued, her grin growing by the second. “The one who did the home inspection before Cash’s release had been a bald older gentleman.”
Dreama did her best not to blush. “Reassignments are common.” She had a feeling Rebecca saw straight through her. “I should probably finish my inspection. I’m sure you have things to do.” Dreama turned around to head toward the kitchen when a photo on the opposite wall of a toddler with a toothy grin and gray eyes caught her attention. Confused, she walked over to it. “Why do you have a photo of Maddox?”
“Maddox?” Rebecca frowned. “That’s Cash. I think he was about two at the time.”
Dreama’s pulse shot into the stratosphere. Cash had seemed familiar to her from the moment she’d first looked into his eyes.
Now she knew why.
Every male McKay shared the same unique gray eyes.
Cash Turner was the missing McKay heir.
TWENTY-ONE
Staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, Dreama put a huge smile on her face as she rehearsed delivering the news to Cash. “Funny thing. Turns out, you’re Ryder and Finn’s brother.”
Her smile changed into a scowl. Ugh. It didn’t sound better no matter how she said it.
She turned away from the mirror and stomped to the kitchen for reinforcements. Cash would be at her apartment in five minutes, and she had no idea how to tell him that he was a McKay.
She tugged on the bodice of her fetish wear. Her leotard didn’t leave much to the imagination. She’d made it out of a sheer nude fabric similar to pantyhose, with strategic places covered in bright silver sparkles. Hopefully, telling him while she was wearing it would soften the blow.
