by Ellie Danes
"The gun?"
Bree frowned. "The big handgun under your seat."
There was nothing else to say but the truth. I didn't know much. "It was in the shoebox we pulled out of the bank safety deposit box."
"You've had it that long?" Bree slumped back into her seat and crossed her arms.
"And you didn't ask," I said.
"Nathan, we've already talked about this; you can't keep anything from me. We should be talking it all out. Don't you think that will help you remember? Keeping it all to yourself is not bringing your memory back," Bree said.
"I'm not keeping anything from you," I lied.
Bree threw her hands up. "Stashing a gun under the driver's seat of the car and not saying anything is the definition of keeping things from me."
"All right. You're right." I concentrated on bringing the car back up to speed. "Going over everything probably will help me remember faster."
She stared out her window as I bit my lip. My stomach churned over how I had remembered the one gunman. I was sure his name was Adrian and I knew him, but I had no proof. And there was no reason why I should know someone like him. How could I tell Bree that when it didn't make any sense? She must have already been worried I was losing my mind.
"You know what I remember?" I asked.
Bree smoothed back her hair and braced herself. "No. What?"
"I remember the first time I learned to drive, all I could do was dream about a road trip like this," I said.
"Minus the gun?" she asked.
"Come on. You never daydreamed about just taking off and driving until you found something new?"
Bree gave a dreamy little smile. "I used to dream of driving all the way to the ocean and then following the coast."
"North or south?" I asked.
"South," we both said at once.
I reached over and brushed back Bree's soft hair. "I'm more of a relax at the beach kind of guy than a hike the mountains type."
"Me, too. I've always wanted to camp on the beach and fall asleep to the waves," Bree said.
"Now you're talking my kind of vacation." I let my hand linger on her shoulder. "And I wouldn't mind if we were the only people around for miles."
Bree shot me a look. "You're just hoping that I'll like skinny-dipping."
"Who doesn't?"
"I remember that was the big dare in high school." Bree gave me another look. "I probably would have dared you."
I felt a rush of heat. "I would have tripped all over myself trying to impress you in high school."
Bree's description of her teenage self as a shy academic and quiet all-star athlete sank right into my heart. I was the smart class-clown and loud jock who would have spent all my energy on her and not cared a bit for my grades or scores.
"So, I dare you. If we ever get to the ocean, you're going skinny-dipping," Bree said.
"I can't wait."
In all our similar memories, neither of us had ever had a beach vacation and we spent the rest of the time in the car imagining huge beach umbrellas and brightly colored drinks.
"Slow down! This is our exit," Bree cried.
I had to drag my mind off the image of Bree in a tiny bikini before I swung the rusted used car across a lane of traffic, narrowly missing a camper, and made the exit. "Well, hello, Springer, New Mexico," I said.
"I hope they have a halfway decent restaurant." Bree clutched her stomach as it growled. "All that talk of fresh seafood has made me starved."
"Best ask a local," I said. "Besides, we need gas."
"And maybe someone has heard of Ginger Road Park," Bree said.
I nodded, regretting that our conversation had swung back around to serious. Bree got out of the car and stretched, and my mind longed to go back to visions of her naked in the warm surf. Instead, I followed her into the little gas station on the fringes of town.
The man at the counter tipped his hat when Bree walked by and then gave me a gruff nod. I had to cool down a spark of jealousy as the man's eyes traveled back to Bree. He watched her strolling down the candy aisle and almost licked his lips.
I knew she was delicious to look at, but I stepped firmly in his eye line and cleared my throat. "Gas on pump two," I said.
He looked suspiciously at my wallet full of cash. Not many customers came in the store since the pumps accepted credit cards. I watched him shift a few inches down the counter and knew he probably kept a gun there under the counter.
It bothered me that I was the suspicious one. When had that happened? Just two weeks ago I was standing in front of my squadron as an exemplary pilot and now I was the guy who made a convenience store clerk nervous.
"We're heading cross-country. She's worth it," I said.
It was a good thing that Bree was along because she peeked over a display of chips and gave the clerk a smile.
He softened. "Good weather for driving. Where you heading?"
I shrugged. "We're on a bit of a wild goose chase, trying to track down her cousin. Little runaway. Heard there have been some similar cases around here."
The man nodded, and I was grateful he took my loose fabrications at face value. "Mostly down south, closer to the border, but I guess there have been a few around here, too."
"Such a shame." I hoped the man might have heard of Maggie's case or at least a headline that would lead me in the right direction, but he wasn't inclined to chat.
Then Bree joined us at the counter with an armful of snacks. She dumped them out in front of me and gave the clerk another smile.
He gave her a wink. "Going on a picnic?"
"That would be heavenly. We've been in the car for days," Bree said.
The clerk nodded as he rang up the pile of snacks. "There's a nice spot down at Ginger Road Park."
I froze. "I'm sorry, did you say Ginger Road Park?"
"Yeah, it's about four miles from here. Take 10th Avenue straight from here and you can't miss it."
Bree finished up the transaction as I couldn't do anything but stare in the direction the clerk had waved. I recognized the name of the park from the postcard and couldn't believe our luck. I had been ready to pump the man for information and all it took was a smile from Bree and he volunteered the biggest break we'd gotten yet.
"Thanks a lot." Bree gave the man another smile and a wave then tugged me out the door. She aimed me at our used car and asked, "What is with you?"
"Ginger Road Park. Ring a bell?" I asked.
She nodded. "From the postcard. Guess I get a picnic, after all."
I got into the driver's seat and gripped the steering wheel with two hands until Bree bounced into the car. She leaned over and gave me a smacking kiss on the cheek.
"What was that for?" I asked.
"Don't look so tense," Bree said. "We're heading in the right direction. Maybe this will all be over soon, and we can get back to talking about our time on the beach."
My hands relaxed and slipped off the steering wheel. Bree was right there when I turned, and she caught me up in a delicious kiss. She tasted of strawberry candy, and I couldn't get enough.
We were blocked by the gas station pumps and I didn't care if the clerk could see us on the security cameras. Bree's optimism was almost as intoxicating as her taste, and I dragged her into my lap. The car horn honked, and she giggled but I kept my lips firmly to hers.
"Have I told you how much I love this sundress?" My hand skimmed up under the flimsy hem.
"Why do you think I'm wearing it?" Bree's lips curved against mine in a suggestive smile.
She shifted, straddling me in the driver's seat, and I felt my pulse jump from zero to sixty miles per hour. My hands swept under her sundress and grasped her tight waist. She rocked against me, the friction revving me up.
"I'm thinking maybe we should take a little detour," I muttered against her wet lips.
Bree rubbed her breasts against my chest. "What's wrong with right here?"
The only thing that could break through my haze of lust was
an oversized pickup truck roaring up to the pump next to us. The driver grinned and slipped off his sunglasses to get a better look at Bree.
I groaned, not wanting to give her up, but we were at a busy gas station. Bree laughed when I nudged her back into the passenger seat. She put on her seatbelt but left her sundress hem hiked far up her thigh just to torture me.
"Maybe there'll be more privacy at the park." I started the car and peeled out of the gas station.
I drove the route the gas station clerk had described with one hand on the wheel and one hand on Bree's bare thigh. Finding out about Ginger Road Park was a huge break, but my excitement was divided. Without Bree, I would never have continued down this road but now I was starting to wonder if I should give it all up for her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Bree
Nathan's hand slipped off my thigh as we pulled into Ginger Road Park. Like the gas station clerk said, we couldn't miss it. The park was packed with small children, and we were not the only ones who had thought a picnic sounded nice.
I tugged down the hem of my sundress and heaved a disappointed sigh. "You'd think a park would have more trees and privacy."
Nathan's mind was far from our heated moment in the car. His eyes roved over the park, hoping for anything that looked familiar.
"I have no idea if I've ever been here before." His shoulders slumped as he turned off the car.
"Well, you can't get a good view of the park from in here." I cranked open the passenger side door. "It's gotta be more than luck that we found this place. See?"
Nathan dragged himself out the car and contemplated the large sign that read, Ginger Road Park. "I thought I would recognize it," he said.
I flinched as he slammed the car door. A few curious faces turned to us. The families unloading their mini-vans didn't think there was anything odd about a couple entering the park, but Nathan's frustrated demeanor stuck out.
I caught his hand and interlaced our fingers. "It's a pretty place," I said.
Nathan started us down the park path like a man on a mission. We could have blended in except for the fact that Nathan was clearly not there to enjoy the park. He marched between the few old trees, his eyes searching.
"Why here?" he asked.
I tried to smile and make it look like we were just on a walk, but the mothers at the park were frowning in our direction. "What are you looking for?" I asked Nathan.
"Anything. Any clue why this is the place she mentioned in that postcard," Nathan said. "Or a clue about who she is?"
"Maggie?" I asked. Nathan avoided the use of her name as if it pained him.
"Yeah. Maggie," Nathan said, gruffly. He marched us over to the large play structure. "Do you even see any kids her age here?"
"Nathan, you have to try to act natural. Maybe we should go back to the car and get a blanket. Picnic, remember?" I tugged him back onto the park path.
"Let's keep going. There's gotta be something around here that will jog my memory," Nathan said.
We were definitely not blending in as Nathan took us at a fast pace around the entire park. The furrow in his forehead was deep and menacing, and people started to notice we were just wandering around.
"I really think we should sit down or at least slow down." I pulled Nathan to a stop under a shady tree. "Just take a breath and think it through. The doctor said you wouldn't remember anything if you pushed too hard."
Nathan bristled but put an arm around my waist. I gave him a light kiss on the cheek and finally coaxed a tight smile from him. The parents who had been glancing over nervously finally relaxed and turned back to their playing children. Now we just looked like a couple who’d had a fight and needed some fresh air to get over it.
Then Nathan pulled the photograph out of his back pocket and said, "The least we can do is ask around if anyone's seen her."
"What if they have? They'll wonder who we are and why we have a photograph of her," I said.
Nathan nodded. "Okay. We'll tell people we found her backpack and the picture was in there. We just want to return her stuff. That's innocent enough, isn't it?"
I looked at Nathan's fierce expression and plucked the photograph from his fingers. "How about you just try to look more like a good Samaritan and less like a storm cloud? I'll do the talking."
His eyes darted to the photograph in my hand and for a minute I worried Nathan was about to snatch it back. Frustration had left little creases at the corner of his mouth and even when he smiled he looked rough. The loss of memory was wearing on him, and his disappointment was palpable.
"Excuse me." I moved away from Nathan and toward the closest mother. "Do you happen to know this girl?"
The woman glanced down at the photograph, back at me, and then looked over my shoulder at Nathan. "No. Why?"
"We found her backpack and want to return her stuff," I said.
The white lie worked and the woman's brow smoothed out. "Sorry. I don't recognize her, but one of the playgroup mothers might."
I headed over to the knot of women with Nathan trailing behind me. The looks they gave him were mixed: mistrust as well as plain female appreciation. Despite his glowering expression, Nathan was still a very good-looking man.
"Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if anyone knows this little girl. We found her backpack and want to give it back," I said.
A tall redhead slipped off her sunglasses. She gave Nathan a long, appraising look, then turned a cool expression on me. "The kids in our playgroup are not school age. Maybe you should try the parents at the big play structure."
"Yeah, thanks," I said. I turned back to Nathan and purposefully wrapped my arm through his. I whispered, "I don't think this is working. People are getting suspicious."
"What else are we going to do?" Nathan asked.
He was right. This was our only lead and we had to try. I loosened my grip on his arm and approached a pair of fathers.
They gave up their conversation about football when I called out, "Hi, sorry, can I ask you something quick?"
They both looked disappointed when I told them about the backpack and showed them the photograph.
"Wait," the shorter man said. "I don't know her but I recognize that."
I squinted at the detail he pointed out. The little girl had a small badge on her jacket. "What is it?" I asked.
"It's the insignia of the charter school. The one just outside of town." He waved in the general direction of south. "Don't remember the name of it."
"Norman Academy," the taller man said. "We thought about sending Jack there but they don't have a football team."
Nathan was patting his pockets and pulling the fathers' attention. "Sorry," he said. "Do you have something I could write on?"
"Piece of gum?" the shorter man offered me.
"I've got a golf pencil," the taller man said.
I took the piece of gum and gave Nathan the wrapper. "Thanks. We're just trying to return her backpack," I said.
The men nodded but their eyes were on Nathan. He smoothed out the gum wrapper on his thigh and carefully wrote down the name of the charter school. It would have been fine if he hadn't been muttering to himself.
"Ginger Road Park, Norman Academy, Maggie," Nathan repeated.
He gave the taller man back his golf pencil and then looked at me. Nathan was clearly expecting me to smooth over his rough manners like I had at the gas station, but I was frozen.
"You from out of town?" the shorter man asked Nathan. "Where'd you say you found the girl's backpack?"
"We're just passing through. Thanks for this." Nathan waved the gum wrapper at the men and then noticed that I couldn't take my eyes off it. He caught my arm and guided me back onto the park path. "Now who's the one acting suspiciously?"
I slipped free of his grasp and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. The pair of fathers were still watching us, and I could see the playgroup mothers glancing over now and again. Nathan caught my hand and tried to tug me toward the parking lot.
I couldn't move my feet. All I could do was raise up the photograph and turn it over slowly. I didn't want to see it, but it was there, plain to see. The little girl's name was scrawled across the back of the photograph in distinctive writing.
The slanted letters and looping matched what Nathan had scribbled on the gum wrapper. He was the one who had written Maggie's name on the photograph.
"Bree, we've got to get going. I think the parents are ready to get out the pitchforks if we don't start acting normal soon," Nathan said.
"Don't you see it?" I asked him.
"What?" Nathan snatched the photograph out of my hand and squinted at the little girl. "Now I see the insignia badge. It's a solid lead."
I reached out a shaky hand and turned the photograph over. "Look at the handwriting."
Nathan frowned. "What am I missing?"
I caught his hand and raised up the gum wrapper, then put the two scraps side by side. "Look at the handwriting, Nathan. You wrote it. Her name."
The color drained from Nathan's face. "How did I not see it earlier? How did I know her name? Why would I do that? Why would I have a photograph of a girl named Maggie?"
I grabbed his arm and spun us toward the parking lot. Parents were definitely starting to pay close attention to our erratic behavior, and we needed to get on the road again as soon as possible.
"Maybe you got the postcard first and then the photograph and then you found out her name. Maybe someone asked you to help," I said.
Nathan got into the car and rested his forehead against the steering wheel. "Maybe I was trying to help," he echoed.
"You still are," I reminded him. "You're doing the right thing."
Nathan sat up and gave me a long, grateful look. Then he started the car and got back on the highway.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Nathan
"After the park, don't you think I should go in by myself?" Bree asked.
We were following the signs toward Norman Academy. I gripped the steering wheel and tried to stay under the speed limit though I was anxious to get there as fast as possible.
