Silencing Memories

by Desiree Holt

  “Did Mom or Dad ever mention any of these people?” She rattled off the names they had come up with, even though all they had were first names. “Do you recognize any of these names?”

  “I think you should just keep looking,” Mary said, starting to clear the plates. “Just remember, whatever you find, that’s about other people. It isn’t your past there in all those papers.”

  “I get the feeling you’re hiding a secret,” Nick said, looking from one to the other. “Something you want Lindsey to find out for herself. Or maybe not at all.”

  “Just keep looking,” Mary said.

  “If there’s something there to find,” Ruben added, “you’ll know it when you see it.”

  After a while, Lindsey and Nick gave up trying to pry information out of them and went out to the porch, hoping to sort out the jumble of information running through their brains. Sitting in the rockers, they hashed over what they’d discovered so far, trying to make some sense of it.

  Then Nick changed the subject.

  “Are you ready to tell me about that little episode you had before?” he asked, his voice quiet.

  “It was nothing.” Lindsey kept her eyes on her lap, wondering how she’d even explain what happened. “Really, Nick. It was just some kind of spasm. Can we drop it, please?”

  He was silent for a moment. “For now. But it’s not off the table.” He stood up and pulled her with him. “Tomorrow’s another day. We need fresh eyes, so let’s go to bed and get some rest.”

  But when they climbed into bed, Nick reached for Lindsey, but the memory of the phone call washed over her and she turned away.

  “I’m really tired tonight,” she told him. “Exhausted.”

  “Want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked after a long moment.

  “Nothing.” Her voice was muffled by her pillow. “I’m just really beat.”

  Another long moment, then he leaned over and brushed a kiss against her cheek. “Whatever you say. We probably need all the sleep we can get, anyway.”

  But he pulled her against him, molding her to his body and refusing to let her go. His heat burned against her, and she had to force herself not to turn around. After a long while, her taut muscles relaxed and she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

  ****

  Help me! Help me! I can’t breathe!

  Lindsey swam as hard as she could, fighting the current but losing ground. The voice grew fainter, more desperate.

  Please! Help me!

  Her lungs were burning as she fought for breath and her body began to tire.

  No! No! I can’t stop.

  “Lindsey. Lindsey, wake up.”

  Someone was shaking her, calling her name.

  “Come on, Lindsey. Open your eyes.”

  Fingers gripped her.

  “No,” she screamed. “Let me go. I’m almost there.” She flailed out with her hands, pushing at whatever was restraining her.

  “Breathe, Lindsey. Come on, honey.”

  The words finally pierced her brain, and the water in her nightmare began to recede. She gasped for breath, sucking in great gulps of air. Her heart hammered so loudly she could feel it pounding in her eardrums, and she shook all over.

  “That’s it, sugar. Big breaths. Come on.”

  With great effort, she forced open eyes that felt as if they’d been frosted with cement. An image swam in the mist that seemed to hang in the air. Was she still under water? She blinked her eyes, and a face came into focus. “N-Nick?”

  “You got it.” His arms wrapped around her, rocking her back and forth. “Just relax. Lean against me.”

  Great sobs burst from her as terror gripped her. She shook with them, pressing against Nick who held her against his firm body and murmured soothingly to her. Gradually, the edges of the nightmare faded until, exhausted, she lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him with eyes still not quite focused. She was drenched with sweat, and her lungs burned with the effort to breathe.

  “Better?” Nick’s eyes were heavy with concern.

  “I think.” She drew a long shuddering breath and let it out.

  “I’m taking you in the shower, then putting you in a clean nightshirt and getting you some brandy. And then, whether you want to or not, you’ll tell me what the hell made you scream so loud every hair on my body stood up.”

  “No water.” She pushed at him, her eyes still wild. “I don’t want water.”

  “Shh,” he crooned, pulling her back into his arms and gently rubbing her back. “I’ll be holding you the whole time, darlin’. You’re safe with me. I won’t even let your head get wet.”

  His touch and voice eased her enough to let him bathe her, standing her in the shower so the spray was directed only at her back. Finally, she began to relax under his hands.

  The hot water helped ease the tension in her muscles. Nick soaped her body with tenderness, rinsed her off carefully, and dried her with a fluffy towel. Then he pulled a sleep shirt from one of the dresser drawers and slid it over her head.

  “Don’t move,” he commanded, putting her back in bed and propping her up on the pillows. He yanked on his boxers. “I’ll be right back.”

  She closed her eyes, trying to shake the memory of the nightmare from her brain.

  Then Nick was back, pressing a glass into her hand. “Take a big slug first, then sip on it.”

  She did as he told her, coughing at the first swallow when the liquor burned a trail down her raw throat.

  “Little sips now,” Nick murmured, stroking her hair.

  When she drank slowly, it went down better, steadying her. She could hardly look at the man sitting beside her.

  “Uh-uh, no hiding.” He put his hand gently under her chin and tilted her face toward him. “No more ducking this, Lindsey. I want to know what this is and how long it’s been going on.”

  She was so exhausted from dealing with the nightmares herself, and Nick’s strength was the only thing propping her up. She needed to tell him, to let someone share this burden with her. Maybe he could figure it out.

  Putting the glass down on the night stand, she curled into him and told him about the nightmares. When they started, how long between episodes…everything. When she finished, she felt as if every bit of energy had been drained from her body. “A lot more than you bargained for, right?”

  “I can’t believe you’ve been going through this and didn’t bother to tell me.” He tipped up her face again and forced her to look at him. “Listen, sugar, I come from generations of Italians who believe the world revolves around superstitions and omens. Something’s going on here, and we have to find out what it is.”

  “You’re sure you don’t want to take back your contract?” Her voice was so low it was almost a whisper.

  “I think I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” He shifted position so he was lying next to her, his body curved around hers. “Tonight you need to sleep, and I’ll be right here holding you. But tomorrow, Lindsey, we’re talking about this nightmare business. And that’s an order.”

  “All right.” It felt so good to know she didn’t have to do this alone anymore. She snuggled into the safety of his arms, but it was still a long time before she dared to fall asleep again.

  Chapter Twelve

  They slept later than usual Sunday morning. Lindsey’s face still showed signs of strain that concerned Nick. He tried to talk her into breakfast in bed, but she was having none of it. Something was bothering her, and he was damn sure going to get it out of her. For some reason last night, she’d pulled away from him. He could almost see the distance. If she hadn’t had the nightmare, would she even have let him touch her?

  He scoured his brain, trying to think of anything he might have said or done, but he came up empty. Finally, he left her to dress while he went downstairs to check on his crew, who’d arrived early again to finish up the security job. But he wasn’t done with this. One way or another, he’d get it out of her.

  “The alarm system is
nearly set to go,” he announced when he joined Lindsey at the kitchen table. He bent to brush his lips against hers, but she turned her head giving him her cheek. He stared at her for a moment before he sat down. Okay, this was going to stop, just as soon as he got her alone.

  Mary served them enough food for an army, having already fed the men from Guardian as well as the ranch hands.

  “How much longer until they’re finished?” Lindsey asked.

  “They’ve got about another hour’s work ahead of them, and then they’ll be done. Before the guys leave, we’ll go through it and make sure everyone knows how the system works in every building. I’ll feel a little better when it’s finally turned on.”

  Ruben, who was drinking a cup of coffee, grunted and automatically reached for the gun at his back. Nick smothered a smile, because it was the same thing he was tempted to do. He was determined to keep everyone as safe as possible, and the alarm system gave them an edge they didn’t have before.

  He was pleased at how quickly Mary and Ruben, for all their protests, picked up the procedure. With each test he ran, Nick checked at the office to make sure everything was working perfectly. Finally, he was satisfied and sent the crew on its way.

  “Come on.” Lindsey tugged on his hand. “Now that we’re electronically safe, can we get back to the boxes?”

  Mary followed them upstairs with a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses. “Thirsty work,” was all she said before clumping away.

  “Let’s talk a minute first.” Nick dropped into the big armchair by her bed. He tried pulling her into his lap, but she tugged her hand away and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Okay.” Lindsey folded her hands primly in her lap and stared at him. He could badger her all he wanted, but she was going to put space between them. He could have Stacy and leave her alone. “Talk.”

  Nick stared right back at her, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Fine, if that’s the way you want it. Problem one. Your stalker and your nightmare. My inner alarm system is telling me the two might be connected.”

  Lindsey frowned. “But how? I don’t even know what the nightmares mean, except someone’s drowning and wants me to save them. I’ve never lived near water in my life or swum in anything larger than a small lake. And that was when I was a lot younger.”

  And since the dreams started, swimming has definitely not been on my agenda. Taking a shower is all I can manage without freaking out.

  “But there’s water in some of the photos,” he reminded her. “That means it plays some role in your life. There’s a reason your mother had this stuff taped up and hidden away.” He rubbed his chin. “I just wish I knew what kept her from destroying everything. My grandmother would say a message is trying to get through to you.” He grinned. “My grandmother hasn’t been wrong too often. Tomorrow, I’m going to get the office started on trying to trace some of these people.”

  “All right,” she agreed. “What’s the second thing?”

  He studied her for so long a feeling of unease pulled at her. “What? Is it worse than the stalker?”

  “I’m trying to figure out what’s changed between us since yesterday morning. One minute we’re fine, the next I feel like I’m in a deep freeze zone.”

  Lindsey dropped her gaze to her hands, unable to bring herself to look at him. “I told you last night. I think everything’s happened too fast. For me, anyway. I’m not used to this. I need to take a step back.”

  She could feel his eyes boring holes in her.

  Finally, he pushed himself out of the chair. “Fine. Let’s drop it for now and get back to work here.”

  She felt a mixture of relief and regret. Why didn’t he push harder? Why didn’t he ask if something happened? But he wouldn’t and she knew it. If she was truthful with herself, he was probably relieved.

  They followed the same procedure with the contents of the boxes as the day before. Pull out photos, try to match them to others in the carefully arranged piles, look for inscriptions on the back. An hour had passed when they found the first clue to any identification.

  “Nick, look.” Lindsey tried to keep the excitement from her voice. “Here’s a picture that was taken at the same beach, with a bunch of people, and there’s a lighthouse in the background. See? It’s pretty clear.” She handed over the photo.

  He looked at it carefully. “Good. This isn’t much, but it’s something. When we get done, I’m going to scan it and email it to the office so someone can start looking for a match. No sense waiting until tomorrow.”

  “Today? But it’s Sunday.”

  “Lindsey, Guardian runs twenty-four/seven. Problems don’t confine themselves to business hours. And I don’t really want to wait on this stuff.”

  Under the careless piles of photos in the remaining boxes, they found more correspondence between Carrie and Renee. As in the previous letters, the women were mostly concerned with the little girl, Barbara, and the coming baby. They were frustrated in their attempts to get Marie and Brent to take the situation more seriously but didn’t go into further explanation of exactly what that situation was.

  “These are obviously the grandmothers,” Nick told her. “And they’re very good friends.”

  “Do you think they could be my grandmothers?” Lindsey stared at one of the letters she was holding.

  “Anything is possible, Lindsey.” He turned over another letter. “But right now, we’re only speculating.”

  “Oh, here it says the baby was finally born.” Lindsey read from the page in her hand. “It’s a boy. Charles. Marie and Brent are very excited. Carrie is panicky, though. She’s still worried about Barbara.”

  “Here’s another letter,” Nick said, pulling a thin sheet of notepaper from the pile. “It’s dated much later than the one you’re reading. Carrie wants Renee to convince Brent to take Marie and Charles to the cottage and leave Barbara at home with the nanny. The little boy’s first birthday is coming, and she has an uneasy feeling.”

  Lindsey studied the photo she’d picked up. “I wonder if they listened to Renee.”

  “Apparently not, because here’s a picture of the happy family—mother, father, daughter, and son.” Nick handed the photo to her. “I guess they made it to the beach together. Recognize anyone?”

  Lindsey took the photo from him and nearly passed out. Her hands began to shake.

  “Lindsey?” Nick reached out and put his hands on her arms. He tried to take the photo from her, but she had a death grip on it. “What is it? What do you see? You look like you’re going to faint.”

  “Oh, Nick. Oh, my God.” She pulled away from him and thrust the photo at him. “These people? They’re my mother and father.”

  “What? Are you sure? Maybe you should take another look.”

  “I don’t have to. I recognize them.” She took the photo back and stared at it again. “They’re a lot younger, but it’s definitely them. Here, I’ll show you.” She grabbed two small, framed photos from the table next to the chair and put them down beside the one from the box. “See? It’s the same people.”

  Nick looked at them closely. “You’re right. There’s no mistaking it. That man and woman are your parents.”

  “But their names were different,” she burst out. “Their names were Andrew and Elizabeth, not Brent and Marie like it says here. Nick, what’s going on? What is this about? And who are the children? They can’t be my sister and brother. I was an only child.”

  “Take it easy.” When Nick tried to pull her into his arms, she stiffened and tried to push him away. She even turned her face away from his attempt at a reassuring caress on her cheek. “Let’s keep this picture separate and see what else we can find.”

  “Open the last box,” she demanded. “Open it now, Nick.”

  He barely had the tape cut away and the lid removed before she was digging into it furiously. She pulled out two handfuls of documents and began to scan through them rapidly. Suddenly, she yanked one out of the pile.

  “Here. This i
s another letter between the grandmothers. From Renee to Carrie.” Lindsey’s hands were shaking. “She says the tragedy is destroying her. She can’t eat or sleep. She doesn’t know how she will cope with it. She says she prays for Marie and Brent and the children, that they will find peace in heaven. My God, did they die?” She shook her head in frustration. “But it doesn’t make sense. My parents were alive for a long time after this. I don’t understand.”

  “Okay.” Nick plucked another sheet from the pile in his hand. “Here’s one from Carrie to Renee, the same kind of stuff. Looks like an answer to the letter you’re holding.”

  “What does she say?”

  “Just that she feels the same, she doesn’t know how to deal with the tragedy. She wishes Brent and Marie had listened and maybe this could have been averted. She doesn’t think so, though. She says this was a heartbreak waiting to happen. She is so distraught she doesn’t know what to do.”

  “We have to find out who these people are,” Lindsey said, raking her fingers through her hair. “And where they are. Something is terribly wrong here, Nick.”

  “Here’s another piece of the puzzle, although a very small one.” He studied the scrap of paper in his hand. “At least it’s something else I can track down.”

  “What? What is it?”

  He held out the paper. “It’s part of a newspaper clipping, but most of it’s been torn away. See? You can read the name, The Beach Recorder, and a part of the headline, but that’s all.”

  “What does it say?” she demanded, trying to reach for it.

  “All that’s left is the first part of the headline Tragedy Strikes Young… That’s all.” Nick put it to the side. “It gives us a starting point, though. I’ll scan this with the pictures and shoot them to the office. I need to find out who’s monitoring email traffic today and tell them what I want them to do.”

  Nick pulled his laptop out of the big metal case he carried everywhere and booted it up. He got the network name and password from Lindsey then scanned the documents into his cell phone and sent them to Guardian. Lindsey tried to sit patiently while he called his office and tracked down the person he needed.