“Who is it?”
“I ... .” Mel pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, his heart rate picking up a notch. “It’s impossible. I mean ... it’s impossible. There’s no way that’s who I think it is.”
Clearly intrigued, Daniel leaned forward. “Who do you think it is?”
“Um ... .”
“Oh, do you know who it looks like?” Daniel, clearly oblivious, remained focused on the screen rather than the police officers so he missed the distressed look on Mel’s face. “It’s the beard that threw me off. I could swear that’s Quinn Jackson. Of course, he’s dead, so it couldn’t possibly be him.”
Jared felt as if a fist was wrapping around his heart. “What?” He looked to Mel for reassurance, but the man’s ashen features gave him pause. “That’s Quinn Jackson?”
Mel swallowed hard and nodded. “It is. He doesn’t look like a dead man either.”
Jared swore viciously under his breath. “What could he possibly be doing here? He clearly hasn’t been hiding in the woods for years recovering from his injuries. That means he left of his own volition. Why come back?”
The obvious answer washed over Jared before anyone else could speak and he pushed past Daniel so he could stride through the door.
“Harper.”
“I HATE TO SAY IT, but this was a total waste of a morning,” Zander complained as he walked through the cornfield with Harper after abandoning their scarecrow investigation. “There’s no way that thing is possessed.”
Harper couldn’t help but agree with him, although her senses remained alert because she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go horribly wrong. “I don’t know. Maybe there’s something out there.”
“I’ve seen Children of the Corn. If there’s something out there, I don’t want to know what it is.”
“Children of the Corn isn’t real.”
Zander poked her side and twisted his face into something ugly. “Malachai.”
“Knock that off.”
Enjoying himself now, Zander committed to his role. “Malachai! Malachai!”
Harper squealed as she broke into a run to avoid him, her feet lightly skipping over an indentation so she didn’t inadvertently pitch forward.
“He who walks behind the rows is going to eat you,” Zander announced, a hint of a shadow catching his eye close to the truck they parked on the road. He pulled up short when he realized a man stood next to their vehicle, a smile on his face.
Zander wasn’t psychic — or overly sensitive — but his blood ran cold when the man lifted his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes. It was a familiar mannerism, one he recognized from years before.
“Harper, wait.” Zander meant to yell the words, but they came out as barely a whisper.
“If you think I’m buying you hot chocolate after you tried to scare me with your bad Children of the Corn impression, Zander, you’re crazy.” Harper barreled forward, clearly oblivious to the man — ghost would be more accurate — watching from the road. “I’m going to make you pay today, no matter how whiny you get.”
“Harper.” Zander’s voice cracked. “Come back here.”
Harper was too far gone. She finally lifted her head and saw the man, an unbidden smile rushing across her face. Zander sucked in a breath the moment she recognized the bearded individual, almost tripping over her own feet as the impossible smacked her across the face.
The man rushed forward and caught her before she hit the ground, however, and his smile was so bright it lit his entire face.
“Hello, Harper.”
Harper openly gaped. “Quinn?”
“Long time no see.”
Five
Harper’s legs felt ungainly, as if they didn’t belong to her body, and she pitched forward when her toe caught on a large rock as she approached the vehicle.
Zander, who increased his pace to make sure he was at her side when she came face to face with a man who supposedly died years before, caught her from behind before she could mar her pretty face on the gravel.
For his part, Quinn reacted out of instinct and thrust his hands out so he could grab Harper’s arms and keep her from falling. The second Zander saw the man’s hands on his best friend, he almost lost it.
“Don’t touch her!” Zander slapped hard at Quinn’s hands and jerked Harper’s body backward, so she was pinned at his side.
Quinn, his eyes wide as he looked at Harper’s face, managed a smile. It reflected marvel rather than annoyance at Zander’s attitude, though. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
Harper made a sound like a wounded animal in the back of her throat as she tried to find words.
“I think it’s fair to say that we can’t believe it’s you either,” Zander said finally, his eyes on fire. He felt exposed and alone, as if he somehow had to protect Harper from a man who could do her great bodily harm. In truth, he’d never been Quinn’s biggest fan from the start. He never hated the man, of course, but he knew he wouldn’t be hanging around so he didn’t bond with him either. That was the exact opposite of how things went down with Jared. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”
Quinn reluctantly drew his eyes away from Harper and focused on her shrill best friend. The smile he offered Zander was small but heartfelt. “Hey, Zander. You look exactly the same.”
His arm firm around Harper’s narrow waist so he could offer her support in case she fell, Zander decided the situation warranted a snippy attitude. “I can’t say the same about you. The beard is a nice touch — kind of Grizzly Adams ... or Duck Dynasty, for that matter — and I can’t ever remember you wearing flannel.”
“Oh, well ... .” Quinn ran his hands over his shirt, as if searching for something.
“How are you here?” Harper’s voice was full of awe when she finally managed to ask a question.
Quinn flicked his eyes back to her and smiled. “It’s a long story.”
“I think we have time to hear it,” Zander barked. “If you try to tell us you’ve been wandering through the woods since your accident, though, just a warning ... we’re not going to believe you.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“Of course it’s not what happened,” Zander sneered. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe that’s what happened?”
“I don’t think anyone could ever mistake you for stupid.”
The words were placating, but Zander hated the man’s tone. His fury was palpable as he pinned Quinn with a hateful look. “I think you owe Harper an explanation. I mean ... did you fake your death? Where did you go? What are you doing here now? Harper is with someone, by the way. You can’t just waltz back into her life. That’s not going to happen.”
“Zander.” Harper’s voice was stronger when she rested her hand on her friend’s wrist. “You need to give him time to respond if you expect him to answer your questions.”
“Oh, well, great.” Zander sarcastically rolled his eyes. “I’m giving you time to answer the questions, Quinn. Knock yourself out.”
Even though it was a surreal situation, even though it was like something out of a soap opera, Harper couldn’t stop herself from laughing when Quinn fixed Zander with a pointed look. “Oh, it’s as if I’ve been transported back in time.”
“You haven’t,” Zander countered, firm. “Years have passed. Years where this guy let you believe he was dead. Don’t forget that.”
“I could hardly forget it, Zander.” Harper’s gentle tone was meant to be soothing. “Let him talk, though. I want to hear what he has to say.”
“Thank you.” Quinn smiled in gratitude as he dragged a restless hand through his hair. “I’ve been imagining how this conversation would go for what feels like forever.”
“It has been forever,” Zander snapped.
“Not really.” Quinn rubbed his hand over his forehead, wiping at the beads of sweat pooling there. “So ... um ... I was in a car accident.”
“That did it!” Zander threw his hands
in the air and cursed a blue streak. “We already know about the car accident, dumbass.” His fury knew no bounds. All he could think was that he had to protect Harper, keep this man away from her. It seemed an irrational fear and yet he felt it all the same. “If you think we’re going to let you play with us, you have another think coming.”
“I’m not trying to play with you, Zander.” For the first time since reuniting with his former girlfriend, Quinn displayed a hint of anger. “Believe it or not, this isn’t a game. I’m trying to explain things. It’s not easy, though.”
Zander refused to back down. “Do better than you’re doing.”
“Fine.” Quinn exhaled heavily and held up his hands in defeat. “I was in a car accident. I remember it now, but I didn’t for a long time. All I remembered was being confused, walking for what felt like forever. I woke up in a hospital, although it wasn’t a Michigan hospital. It was a New York hospital.”
Harper’s forehead puckered. “I don’t understand. How did you get to New York?”
“I honestly don’t know.” Helplessness clouding his features, Quinn held out his hands and shrugged. “My first firm memory after the accident is waking up in the hospital. To this day, I have no idea how I ended up there. The doctor said I was suffering from a head injury, and it seemed to be affecting my memory.”
“Amnesia?” Zander’s eyebrows flew up his forehead. “Are you claiming you had amnesia and that’s why you put her through what you did? If so, I’m going to buy an entire library’s worth of Lifetime movies on VHS and smack you upside the head with them.”
Harper bit back a sigh as she tried to control her annoyance. Zander meant well. She knew that. The situation was rife with emotion, though, and it was likely to explode if she didn’t keep a handle on things. “Zander, you’re not helping. You need to calm yourself. He’s doing the best he can.”
“He’s not doing anything!”
“He’s trying. You won’t let him get a sentence out.”
“Oh, right. This is all my fault.”
“It’s no one’s fault, Zander,” Quinn countered. “No one is to blame for this. That’s not how it went down. It’s simply ... one of those things that happened. Some people might consider it a tragedy — or maybe even a travesty — but I’ve been coming to terms with it over the last few weeks.”
“Let him tell the story,” Harper ordered, her tone firm. “He clearly needs to tell it and I need to hear it.”
“Fine.” Zander desperately wished he had someone to help him muddle through this situation, even Jared who would likely melt down before taking over. He needed help. “I can’t wait to hear the rest of this ridiculous story.”
“It is a ridiculous story,” Quinn confirmed. “Basically, it’s an entire series of unbelievable events, one after the other.”
“I still want to hear,” Harper prodded. “Please.”
“I was in the hospital for almost two months, although it wasn’t because of physical injuries,” Quinn volunteered. “I had a head injury, and a scar here.” He pointed toward his chest. “The cut here was already healing — although the doctor said I was lucky to avoid infection because it was never stitched up properly — when I woke in New York.
“They ran a bunch of tests on me because I couldn’t remember anything from before that hospital,” he continued. “Not a single thing. I didn’t remember my mother ... or my childhood ... or the years I was in college. My entire life was a blank slate.”
“That must have been terrible,” Harper lamented.
Quinn shrugged. “Honestly, it wasn’t as terrifying as it probably should’ve been because I was recovering from a brain injury. I didn’t react like a normal person would, or feel how a normal person would feel in a situation like that. I was simply numb.”
“Maybe that was for the best.”
“I don’t know. It simply was.” Quinn collected his thoughts. “After I recovered from my physical injuries, they moved me to the mental ward. I stayed there for six weeks so the psychiatrists and therapists could attempt to break through my brain fog.”
“Did it work?”
“No.” Quinn shook his head. “Basically, I recovered all my basic functions, but I still had no memory. I had no identity, no family, and no friends. I was in New York and I had no idea what to do with myself.”
“And yet you still showed up here,” Zander muttered under his breath.
Harper ignored the comment. “What happened?”
“My therapist took an interest in my case and wanted to write a paper for a medical journal,” Quinn replied. “She helped me get a job — although it was a simple sales clerk position at a bookstore to start — and she helped me cope with what I was feeling and thinking.
“The thing is, I could make new memories, but nothing from my past was accessible and she was convinced there might be a chance of fixing that if we found the right therapy tool,” he continued. “After about four weeks of working at the bookstore, it became obvious I was being underutilized and they promoted me to accountant, something I was pretty good at.”
“You were always good with numbers,” Harper confirmed. “I remember when you helped Zander perfect our business plan for GHI.”
“I didn’t need help,” Zander snapped.
“GHI.” Quinn offered up a wide smile. “I didn’t remember GHI until right now. How ... odd.”
“You’re still remembering things?” Harper had no idea how to respond to that. “That’s ... I guess I don’t understand.”
“Yeah, I don’t blame you.” Quinn’s smile was rueful. “I worked as the bookstore’s accountant for two years before trading in the gig for a bigger one at an insurance company. I started making friends, developing a social circle, and generally getting on with my life.
“You have to understand, I didn’t remember anything about this place ... or you,” he continued. “I’m so sorry. I know what happened must have been awful for you.”
Uncomfortable, Harper shifted from one foot to the other. “It wasn’t easy.”
“Try a living nightmare,” Zander intoned.
“Through the years, I started getting weird flashes, although I didn’t know what they meant at the time,” Quinn explained. “The first was a flash of blond hair and a laugh. It was your laugh, although I didn’t understand that at the time, for obvious reasons. The second flash was of my brother, when we were kids and before he died. We were screwing around in the backyard and having a good time.”
“Did you understand what was happening?” Harper asked.
“I understood that they were probably memory flashes,” Quinn confirmed. “I didn’t understand why they were happening at that point in time, or how I was supposed to sort through them for clues about my old life. Even though I wasn’t unhappy, I was desperate for answers.”
“You obviously found them,” Harper pointed out. “Was that recently?”
“Very recently.” Quinn bobbed his head. “As it happens, I was sent to a conference at one of the bigger New York City hotels. While visiting, there just so happened to be a paranormal conference going on. I thought the people visiting were a bit wacky, but fairly entertaining.
“I was sitting in the bar having a drink with a few guests, laughing, when I told one of them I didn’t believe in the paranormal,” he continued. “Simply put, in my new world, I never had occasion to cross paths with anyone who believed in ghosts.”
“I get that.” Harper smiled. “Ghost hunting is an acquired taste.”
Quinn returned the smile. “I guess. Anyway, when I mentioned I didn’t believe in ghosts, one of the men pulled up an article from some scientific journal. It was about a team of ghost hunters who traveled to an asylum with a news crew ... and you and Zander were in the photograph accompanying the article.”
Harper’s mouth dropped open. “Oh. You saw that? Zander insisted we do a few interviews after the story broke big, but I wasn’t sure it was a good idea.” It was a lame thread to be snagged on, but
Harper couldn’t stop herself from veering. “I can’t believe that’s how you found us.”
“It all came crashing back,” Quinn supplied. “Er, well, your part came crashing back. Once I accessed memories of you, it was easy to draw upon other memories and I started remembering things at a fantastic rate. The first thing I remembered, though, was you.”
“How long ago was that?” Zander asked.
“About three weeks.”
“And you’re just contacting her now?” Zander was huffy as he planted his hands on his hips. “Why did it take so long?”
“Because I had no idea how to do it,” Quinn admitted. “I wanted to call her, I actually remembered her cell phone number, but my therapist thought that would be a rather jarring conversation. Harper already sees ghosts. If a dead guy called her, she might lose her mind.”
“Yeah, that would’ve been weird,” Harper agreed.
“I wanted to see her, but first I had to see my mother,” Quinn explained. “It turns out she died two years ago. I didn’t get to see her again.”
“Oh, no!” Harper’s made a disgusted face. “That’s so unfair.”
“Yeah, well, it is what it is.” Quinn scratched his cheek, and Zander had the distinct impression that he did it simply because he was looking for something to do with his hand. The man was antsy. “I got to see some aunts and uncles, though, and cousins. That was good.
“When I finished there, I knew I wanted to see you,” he continued. “I flew here yesterday, checked into the hotel downtown, and drove by the apartment you used to live in. Someone on the main floor told me you moved years ago, so I headed to your house. I was going to knock, but I panicked at the last second. I could hear voices inside — all male — and I didn’t see you. I wasn’t sure if you still lived there, perhaps maybe the woman who gave me information at the apartment complex was wrong, but that was the address supplied by the guy at the gas station.”
“I still live there,” Harper confirmed. “At least for a few weeks. I’m moving across the road, though.”
“That’s convenient.” Quinn licked his lips. “I parked down the street this morning so I could watch the house. I know that sounds creepy, but I had no idea how I was going to approach you. The whole thing is ridiculous, like a movie or something, and I was afraid.”
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