“Yes. No. For a moment there, I—I don’t understand. Why would I forget? How could I forget?” Rederrick puzzled over it for a while longer, then pulled his chair closer and sat once more. Rederrick leaned in and instructed the younger man, “Cody, I'm going to come back tomorrow, and I want you to ask me about Collett. I don’t want to forget. You’ll have to keep reminding me. I want to find out how much I remember from today.”
“Okay. Why not ask Cynda?”
“I don’t want to tell her yet. She’s struggling, and I want to experiment first.”
“Sure. What if you forget everything before you tell her?” Cody inquired.
“You’ll have to tell Cynda. Tell her what we were doing.”
“What if I forget?”
“I guess I better write it down. I’ll leave it here with you,” Rederrick said and rose again to find a pen and paper. “You better write down what you remember too. Just in case.”
Cody nodded. The men collaborated, reviewing past events and information they could remember. Writing in shorthand, Rederrick cataloged key information that would help him, or anyone else for that matter, remember.
Rederrick went home intent on discovering if anyone else was having memory issues, but he remained discreet in his methods. After questioning Cynda, Tracy, and even calling Ashley, Rederrick concluded he was the only one losing his memory. He wanted to talk with James still, but he knew his son was unreachable during maneuvers.
That night, Rederrick contented himself with staring at Cade and Collett’s wedding picture, striving to commit her image to his memory again. He wanted to find out how much he retained the next day. It was like studying for the exams he’d taken in law school. He methodically processed known facts and information about Collett.
If Rederrick was forgetting, he wasn't sure what that meant. When he first met Collett, Rederrick researched what he could of her past and found even her most recent coworkers didn’t remember her. He never did figure out why people forget her, and he may never get the chance.
During his call to Ashley, he convinced her and Nate to come home in a couple of weekends to make some more wedding plans. It wasn’t too hard since Tracy was here, and the girls were not simply sisters—they were best friends. He hoped to coax James back for a weekend at home as well if his duties permitted it. Rederrick needed his children home. He wanted them under one roof, even if he could only manage it for one measly weekend.
Ever since his meeting with Cody, a strange urgency settled in his chest. He couldn’t explain it, but it was unrelenting. He still didn’t want to tell Cynda. She was comforted by Tracy’s presence, and he didn’t want to disturb that peace. So Rederrick decided he would wait to tell her until he had more to report.
He spent another minute staring at the picture again and in focusing, a memory came to him. Collett and him sitting in the kitchen. Rederrick expressed his concerns about their relationship and her power to hurt Cade.
“I can’t guarantee that it will never happen, that Cade will never hurt because of me. I don‘t have any idea what our future holds. Whatever does or doesn’t happen, he will have you, and he will have your family. You would never allow him to stumble down a dark, lonely path. I may have the power to hurt his spirit as you said, but you, Rederrick, you have the power to pull him though.”
Needing to talk to the man who had been his best friend since he was a kid, Rederrick picked up the phone and dialed Cade’s number.
“Yeah?”
Rederrick cringed. He missed the lighthearted Cade who teased him by answering, “Hey old man.” Instead his voice was cold and cheerless.
“Hey. We haven’t heard from you, how’s it going?” Rederrick questioned.
“It’s going. Delphene met up with us. I think she’s staying for a couple days.”
“Oh, good. That’s good. Any word on…” He hesitated, not wanting to open the wound.
“No, we haven’t even been able to get a solid line on Victor yet. He likely slithered under a rock and stayed there.”
“I suppose we can hope.”
Silence came from the other end, and Rederrick understood Cade wanted to catch Victor before he burrowed in somewhere.
“Well, anyway, um…” Rederrick looked at a picture of Collett and Cade from their wedding. “So how’ve you been? Is everything okay?” Rederrick couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t even ask.
“Fine.”
“Okay then. Keep us updated. Cynda worries about you.”
“Okay,” he replied.
“Tracy came home. She may even stay for a while.”
Nothing.
“Ash will come back too, in a couple weeks. Maybe, if you’re out this way, we could do dinner or something?”
“Sure, I’ll let you know,” Cade replied reluctantly.
“I’ll talk to you soon. Be careful out there.”
“Thanks.”
They ended the awkward call, and Rederrick understood Cade would not make it back in two weeks. He also couldn’t blame him.
Cynda entered with a smile on her face, and her porcelain skin glowed in the dim evening light. Rederrick pondered how hard it would be to lose her. I almost did, he admitted, meeting her halfway to pull her into a kiss. Rederrick used that one kiss to convey his desperate appreciation and need for her presence in his life.
Afterward, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you, Cynda.” She put her hands on his cheeks and met his eyes, searching for the cause of the unexpected affection and tone of his voice. It was as if they hadn’t seen each other minutes before.
“What’s wrong?” she asked as she searched his grey eyes for clues.
He held her face gently between his hands and rubbed a thumb over her lips. “I should tell you how much you mean to me more often. I don’t want to take what we have for granted.”
Cynda smiled warmly, leaned in, and kissed both his cheeks, then his lips. “I love you too.”
Embracing her tightly, he held her for a long moment in the quiet of the evening, and she returned his hug tenfold.
After a time, Cynda relaxed her grip and asked, “How’s Cade doing?”
He smiled, she knew him so well. “He’s…” Rederrick paused, considered how he would be, and answered honestly, “He’s hurting.”
She nodded. “He’ll come back, eventually.”
This time, Rederrick nodded.
“Come on, it’s late. Tomorrow’s another day.”
“Yes, it is,” he agreed. Letting Cynda take him by the hand, they headed to their bedroom.
Chapter 8
Everything shifted into a comfortable routine at the Williams’s residence. Since her mother wasn’t very adept when it came to cooking, Tracy took over in the kitchen. She also spent time with Jenny every day and, growing complacent while at home, scheduled regular workouts to help keep her temperament in check. Tracy hated running in the morning, so mornings were for yoga and evenings were for jogging. She then used the rest of her time to search for any clues about Collett and her enemy, Niall, a.k.a. Bellig.
This morning, Tracy spent some time on the phone with Ashley and James. She updated them almost daily on the progress, or more accurately, stagnation, of the research. Despite her best efforts, she had found nothing new to add to the information her mother gathered months ago. The siblings discussed their vague knowledge and continued to theorize new ideas, but they were getting nowhere.
James often found himself confused by the chain of events and asked Tracy to email him the information today so he could make a timeline. James was meticulous and needed comparisons. He insisted a chart would help them visualize facts and details chronologically, and Tracy agreed to send it all as soon as she could.
Ashley and Nate had taken a few research trips during the week to places Collett had been before coming to work for Rederrick. Tracy jotted down the few insights Ashley shared in the email, but the couple made no meaningful breakthrough.
After hitting send, T
racy grabbed her purse and headed over to the care facility. When she was young, Tracy used to pick white daisies from the front garden and bring them to Jenny. Remembering the flowers, Tracy stopped by a florist for a bouquet and placed them in Jenny's room.
Her visits always lasted a couple hours. As she told Jenny about her problems and plans, Tracy wished a response or word of advice would miraculously pass her grandmother's lips. When Tracy was honest with herself, she’d admit that, deep down, there was a wish forming that Jenny could let go and find peace. However, buried even deeper, was a genuine fear that Jenny already had.
Reluctantly, Tracy left the sleeping woman with a peck on the cheek. The nurses here were gentle and attentive, but she found comfort in knowing her mother would be coming shortly. She hated the idea of Jenny being alone.
She then filled her afternoon by visiting a few old friends, running mundane errands, and reaching out to old contacts. When she finally made it home, Tracy changed for an evening jog to decompress.
Stepping outside, she shuffled, stretched, and jumped to warm up her muscles. Starting at an easy pace, she followed the tree line down the long driveway. As she turned the corner onto the lane, a figure stepped in her path.
Berated herself for not paying better attention, Tracy reacted as Cade had taught her. Driving the heel of her hand up into her taller opponent’s face, she heard—and felt—a solid smack as her hand struck his nose. The attacker dodged backward, and Tracy knew, that though she’d connected, she didn’t break his nose. Expecting retaliation, Tracy prepared a knee for his groin, but she was surprised to see quick hands block the move in anticipation of that very thing.
“Stop! It’s me!” she heard a familiar voice exclaim.
For a second, Tracy thought about pretending she hadn’t heard Detective Hall and kicking him anyway. Instead, she stepped back to give him room.
“Good grief, woman! You could have broken my nose,” he accused.
“That’s the idea, but I didn't, so quit whining.”
“I wasn’t going to attack you. I just wanted to talk. What if you assaulted some innocent person on an evening walk?” he asked as he bent forward to let blood drip from his nose.
“No one uses this lane for a stroll. It’s private property, and men generally don’t jump out at women after dark to talk.” She eyed him. "At least, normal people don't anyway."
“You’ve lived in a big city too long.”
“Why are you following me?”
“I’m not following you. Technically, I came here before you did.”
“Stalking then.”
“Investigating.”
“And the grocery store today? I saw you there. I'm not an idiot, Hall,” Tracy countered.
“I just wanna talk,” he said with exasperation. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Then it’s clear how I feel about conversations with you.”
Jonah spit blood from his mouth. “Yeah, but I’ve noticed you like to jog at night, so I was hoping to join you, charm you with my running prowess, and then talk.”
Cursing her predictable routine, Tracy decided that jogging in the morning didn’t seem so bad. “And that’s not stalking?” she asked with snotty sarcasm.
Jonah angled his head up and grinned. “Nah, that’s effective police work.”
Seeing the blood dripping from his nose and a goofy grin on his face she rolled her eyes and sighed. “Come on, Hall. I’ll get you something for that nose.” Turning she started walking away.
Surprised, he pinched his sore nostrils to help stem the flow and hurried to catch up with her. “See, I'm getting to you already," he said with a nasal quality to his voice.
Tracy snorted, "Not on your life."
"That’s an impressive reflex you have by the way.”
Detective Hall sounded so ridiculous that Tracy almost forgot to be irritated. “You too. A fraction of a second slower and I would’ve broken your nose.”
“Why thank you, miss. That almost sounded nice,” he quipped.
Tracy couldn’t repress a slight grin, so she turned her face away from the detective.
“The city’s made you jumpy.”
“No, my Uncle Cade made me smart.”
Jonah was surprised by her reference. It was the first time anyone openly or easily mentioned Cade Werren in his presence, let alone use a family title like uncle. “Cade’s your uncle? Your mom’s side?”
Tracy remembered why she couldn’t like the man as he fished for information. “Did you want some help with that nose or not?" Tracy answered snidely.
When they reached the house, she led him around to the kitchen door. He stepped in behind her and watched her retrieve a rag from one of the many drawers. Tracy tossed it to him and walked over to the fridge. Reaching into the freezer drawer, she grabbed an ice pack and tossed that to him. “That should do it. Go home, take two Tylenol, and don’t call me in the morning.”
“Tracy, that was rude,” Cynda admonished as she entered the room. Tracy groaned inwardly and met her mother’s eyes.
“No worries, Mrs. Williams. It was my fault.”
“Nonsense. Come on in. What on earth happened?”
Tracy opened her mouth explain, but the detective answered before her. “I came to talk to your daughter, but I tripped. I’m afraid I’m a bit clums—”
“Oh please,” Tracy interrupted. “If you think my mom buys that line of bull—”
“Tracy!” her mother scolded. Tracy shut her mouth sheepishly. She realized it didn’t matter how old or independent she became, her mother could always make her feel bad about cursing and rude behavior. “Now then, Detective, let’s see that nose. Did she break it?” Cynda questioned, indicating that she knew exactly how he got injured.
“No, Ma’am. I would know, too. Mine’s been broken a time or two," Jonah responded with a sweet, respectful tone.
“Please,” Tracy said while rolling her eyes at him once more.
“Tracy, get him some water,” Cynda ordered.
Taking another deep breath, Tracy went to get a glass of water so he could rinse the copper flavor from his mouth. As an afterthought, she opened the cabinet that held the homemade herbal healing concoctions and took out one of the little jars.
Tracy set a jar in front of him. “Put that ointment on the bridge of your nose and the side of your nostrils,” she instructed. Knowing her mother would not approve if she walked away, Tracy sat in the chair opposite him.
“To make amends for her rude behavior, Tracy will do that for you now, but you'll need to put some on again in the morning by yourself,” Cynda directed with a tone Jonah assumed only mothers could master. Cynda studied him, for a minute and the detective felt slightly awkward under her scrutiny.
Seeing his expression and understanding her mother was examining his aura, Tracy patted her shoulder. “I’ve got this, Mom.”
Cynda smiled and stood. “I’ll leave you to finish up then. Tracy, after you put some of that on, see him out and lock up when you're done.”
“I will.”
“And mind your manners.”
Tracy sighed.
As she left them, Cynda thought about the colors swirling in the detective’s aura. Despite her family’s misgivings, Cynda saw Jonah’s attributes of loyalty, passion, kindness, and intuition radiating around him. She had a good feeling about Detective Hall.
“Your mom’s nice,” Jonah offered as Tracy dipped her finger in the small bottle.
Tracy’s eyes softened as she leaned in to rub ointment on the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, she is.”
“My mom would’ve decked me if she caught me cussin’ in her house.”
“Oh yeah? Sounds like I’d like her,” Tracy offered as she replaced the lid and wiped her fingers on the towel. “Too bad she has to put up with you.”
He smiled. “We all have our cross to bear.”
Tracy snorted.
“Well, I better get going. Thanks for the…whatever it was.”
“Yeah sure,” she replied.
“We’ll have to have that talk another time.”
“It won’t happen, Detective. I've got nothing to tell you.”
“You never know. Even the smallest detail can break a case wide open,” Hall threatened with a sweet southern drawl that reminded her of Jenny.
“Trust me, Hall. I have nothing you want or are ready to hear. Back off, or next time you scare me in the woods I won’t bring you back for first aid when I’m done.”
Jonah grinned again, moved to the door, and challenged, “We’ll see.”
She glared as he shut the door.
Heading out to his car, Jonah heard the door open and Tracy yelled, “Hall!”
“Yeah?” He turned in time to catch the little glass bottle careening at him.
“Don’t forget the salve. You’ll need more in the morning,” she admonished then shut the door on him for the second time since they met.
Chapter 9
“GO! GO! GO!” Jonah shouted at the television the next day.
Cody stared at him blankly as he struggled to understand the detective’s fascination with soccer. “You don’t have to watch the game here, you know.”
Jonah pulled his attention from the TV and smiled at Cody. “You’re just sayin' that because I embarrass you.”
“Maybe, but you don’t have to keep checking up on me.”
“No?”
“I’m doing better.”
“I know.”
“I’m probably even leaving soon,” Cody said.
“That’s great.”
“So, yeah,” Cody said awkwardly.
“Where will you go?” Jonah questioned.
Cody shrugged. “Maybe the Williams’s house.”
"I've got a pull-out if you need it."
"They have a couple of extra rooms."
“Oh,” Jonah said, trying to remain neutral.
Cody smirked. “You’re a bad liar. It’s a wonder you can ever convince people to confess.”
“I don’t. I nail them to the wall with evidence. Then I don’t need to lie. I’ve got mad detective skills—better than Sherlock.”
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