by Lizzy Ford
His glaring spotlight of a flashlight blinded her as he walked to the driver's door, and she held her hand up.
"Do you know why I stopped you?" the officer asked as she rolled down her window.
"No," she said.
"You were going thirty-seven."
"Yeah."
"That’s speeding."
The light flashed away, leaving her in blackness studded with dim bulbs.
"The speed limit’s thirty-five," she objected.
"So you knew that?"
"Yeah. I drive this way every day."
The light returned to her eyes, and she bit her tongue to keep from griping. She couldn't be late again for her job as an assistant general manager of a fast food joint, or she'd be fired.
"You were speeding intentionally," he said with a level of disgust she’d reserved for the revelation of her sister’s ex-boyfriend cheating.
"It’s just two miles an hour."
He said nothing, but the light disappeared and she heard him scrawling.
"Your taillight is out," he added in a clipped tone.
"I have four. There’s only one out--the rest all work."
"So you knew your taillight was out."
More scrawling.
"Look, it’s early, I didn’t get much sleep, and these seem like minor issues," she said in what she hoped was a friendly voice.
"Your pupils are dilated. Have you been drinking?"
"No."
"On medication?" he prodded.
"I took a sleeping aid last night, yes. I have a lot of trouble sleeping lately, probably because--"
"How many hours ago?"
"Four," she said.
"Taking a sleeping aid and driving before eight hours has passed means you’re driving while under the influence of a medication."
She rested her head against the steering wheel, frustration making her veins swell. Her headache worsened.
"I have you for reckless endangerment, driving while under the influence, driving an impaired motorized vehicle while dark, and speeding," he summarized, handing her one ticket for each crime. He waited, as if she’d reveal enough dirt to make his monthly quota then added, "They’ll probably suspend your license. You’ll have to report to court tomorrow morning."
"Sounds wonderful," she managed.
"God bless."
She rolled up her window, watched him return to his car, and cursed.
She beat the rush onto the metro and took up a comfortable position on the aisle side of the commuter train, book in one hand and purse in the other. The train lurched forward, the gentle hum of electricity soon pushing her into a near-doze, until the train lurched to a halt. As usual, the next stop filled the train, and she looked with some irritation at a five-year-old who shoved by her legs to stand next to the window beside her.
He was dressed in worn clothing and shoes and flattened his palms against the window, as if he’d never been on a train before. He turned to her twice and pointed out the window as the scenery whizzed, but she ignored him, reading instead.
Four stops later, she rose and tucked the book away, wading through the throngs of people to the door as the train slowed.
"Mama!"
The cry startled those around her, and she glanced back at the kid, who stared in her direction.
"Lady, that your kid?" someone asked as she stepped toward the door.
"Oh, hell no," she said with a smile.
The kid began crying and she waited, ticking off her mental to-do list to see where she’d start. First off, request the morning off to go to court tomorrow. Second, find out when the general manager of the fast food joint where she worked was returning from maternity leave. Third, call her snotty sister and find a way to back out of brunch Saturday. Fourth--
"Ma’am, your kid," a woman said, taking her arm and pointing with a look of such judgment that Katie reddened despite herself.
"Not mine," she said.
The kid was crying and began tugging on her coat. He spoke in tear-filled gibberish she didn’t understand, and she moved away to the door. She was one of the first off the train while the kid wailed and several people around her muttered.
"Lady, you can’t just leave him!" the first objector said, grabbing her arm. "You’re like that sick lady who put her kid on a plane to Russia ’cause she don’t want him no more!"
"How could you leave him on the train? What's wrong with you?"
There were three then five voices with a sixth calling the police and the seventh hugging the sobbing kid.
"He’s not mine!" Katie insisted, unable to break away from the mob. She protested until the cops came and took them both to a police station.
Too surprised to understand what exactly was happening, she obeyed the police officer's instructions to sit down and shut up and sat in the quiet police station reception area. The kid sitting beside her made smacking sounds as he chewed on a huge wad of gum. She rubbed her face, certain the mistake would be clarified soon and she’d be released with an apology the size of a bottle of painkiller she desperately needed.
"Fill this out," a dour woman with cocoa skin said, handing her a clipboard. "C’mere, honey." She took the hand of the little boy.
Katie ignored the glare leveled on her while the woman cooed to the little boy. The woman and boy left while she filled out the paperwork and then set it on a counter of what looked like an abandoned reception area. There was no computer, no office supplies on the other side. A single bell sat on the counter. She rang it. When nothing happened, she rang it again.
She looked around her, flustered. The waiting room consisted of two chairs, an empty magazine rack, and a potted plant in the corner. It resembled a doctor's waiting room rather than any police station she'd seen.
She rang the bell again.
"Please have a seat, Ms. Young," an irritated voice announced over the intercom.
She obeyed. Another hour of silence passed, and she started to pace. Her cell phone had no signal, her head throbbed, and the coffee pot was empty. When she felt ready to snap, the same woman returned with the little boy in tow. His dark eyes were glowing, and syrup was on his face.
"Officer David will see you now," the woman told her.
Katie grabbed her purse and walked quickly down a pristine hall to a placard outside an office that read Officer David. The little boy followed her. She knocked and entered with a smile that faded.
Officer David gave her the same glare.
"Have a seat, Ms. Young," he said. "You too, Toby."
"Officer, this has been just a horrible morning," she started.
"For your son, maybe."
"He’s not my son."
The officer stared at her then held up an ID card with the boy’s picture.
Toby Young.
"It must be some other Young," she insisted. "I don’t have a son."
"I oughta call child services on a wack job like you," he muttered.
"Go ahead--call them!" she snapped.
"Parenthood is a responsibility that no one should take likely, even if you’re a teen parent! I don’t care how…"
She listened to his rant, peppered with language no kid Toby’s age should hear. Officer David waved a piece of paper in her face depicting Toby’s ID. Toby was quiet, and she snatched the paper, intent on showing him their addresses were different.
Only they weren’t different. Toby’s address was listed as hers. She set the paper on her lap and stared at it. She’d lived there for two years, since a fight with her sister drove her away from the home her sister shared with her fiancé.
"I don’t understand…" she muttered.
"Your record is full of bullshit," Officer David said acidly. "Reckless endangerment? And now child endangerment? You’re going to court. You damn well better have a good lawyer, because…"
She sucked in a breath and turned to the kid.
"Toby, kid, whatever. Tell this nice man the truth," she said, meeting the twinkling brown eyes.
The kid was adorable, with dark eyes and hair, sun-kissed skin, and a round face. He was well-fed, though clothed like he’d been going to make mud pies and not to school like he should have been. He smiled.
"Toby, is this your mommy?" Officer David said in tones as sweet as they were bitter toward her.
Toby nodded. Katie’s mouth dropped open, and she began to realize something was very, very wrong. This was a dream; she’d fallen asleep on the train and not yet woken up. With any luck, the worst part of her day would be missing her stop.
Toby took her hand. His soft hand was cold. The sensations assured her the surreal situation was really happening.
"Officer David--" she began in earnest.
"Enough!" he roared loudly enough to make them both jump. "I’ve had enough with deadbeat…"
He ranted, signed her papers with a vicious flourish, then shoved them at her and manhandled her out his door. She stood in the hallway, staring at the door slammed in her face, holding a fistful of papers she didn’t know what to do with.
"The car will pick you up." The tone of the woman with cocoa skin left no imagination to what she thought of the latest deadbeat mom in her office.
Frustrated, Katie looked both directions down the pristine, eerily quiet hallway before following the kid toward the far end, where a bright red exit sign hung over the door. Her unease grew as she went. The placards on each of the other doors were blank, the doors closed with no sign of light around the edges. The hallway smelled medicinal and clean, like the antiseptic-laced air of a hospital mixed with pine cleaner.
She’d never been in a police station, but she didn’t think they’d be this different from the police shows on television! She paused near the end and turned back to see both Officer David and the woman watching her with disapproving looks and crossed arms. She’d not thought twice about their lack of police uniforms but was now struck by it.
This wasn’t a police station. It couldn’t be.
"Mama!" Toby called cheerfully.
She turned and stared at him. He shoved the door open with all his might, revealing the steely skies of winter and the grey cement curb outside. Whatever this place was, she--and probably Toby--were better off somewhere else. She joined Toby outside.
The boy was agitated and shivering, skipping up and down the sidewalk while shaking with cold. She’d been too flustered to pay attention to the trip to the police station and looked around, not recognizing the area. It looked suspiciously like the warehouse district near the Annapolis port, and she smelled the sea on the air. She twisted around. There was no handle on the outside of the door she’d just walked through, no number on the building.
She shivered in her wool coat, folded the paperwork, and called her sister. As usual, the phone rang until her voicemail picked up.
"Hey, Hannah, it's Katie. I need some help. Can you give me a call?"
Toby’s pattering stopped, and she looked up, startled to see a massive man a few feet away. The sight of him struck her like a frozen water balloon. He was tall and clothed in all black, ominous and large against the slate sky. His trench was long and unfastened, the chilled winter wind whipping back one side to reveal a sword tucked against his leg. He looked like death with his dark hair and cold eyes, his panther-like physique, and gloved hands.
"Toby," she called instinctively.
The little boy ran to her side. The man in black approached. She took a step back, heart fluttering.
"We made a mistake. Toby, you can come with me." The stranger failed to make the cryptic words in any way friendly, and the cold glare seared through her.
"I don’t think that’s a good idea," she managed.
"You're early," Toby said, unafraid. "I want to go with her."
Katie turned to stare at the little boy, who beamed a smile.
The shadow-man's hand twitched and inched toward the sword at his hip. She stepped back even more and clenched the purse to her body, distracted as a sleek black car pulled up to the curb. A door opened, and Toby vaulted in without waiting for her. She took one more look at the ominous man in black and the sword at his hip and followed, shaking from more than cold. The man shut the door behind them.
"Goodbye, Gabriel!" Toby called from the interior of the warm car. He waved at the massive shadow lingering on the sidewalk.
"You’ll be fine. I’ll take you home." The soft, firm words of the female in the driver’s seat were the first kind ones of the day.
Katie instinctively believed her and twisted, staring with Toby at the man in black who watched them drive away.
"My God," she murmured.
"No," said Toby. "Death dealer."
She looked at him, and he nodded as sagely as a five-year-old could.
"Death dealer, ha! Probably just some bum," the brunette driver said with a forced laugh. "We get lots of them around here."
"At a police station?" Katie asked skeptically.
"Yeah, sure," came the less certain answer. "You know, like, you can’t have a cop station in a nice side of town. They kinda have to be in a crappy part of town, where the criminals are. It makes total sense, right? I mean, why would a death dealer be here?"
The grey eyes were beseeching, but Katie couldn’t manage anything verbal let alone a lie to placate the driver. Instead she looked again to Toby, who’d begun to mess with the buttons on his side of the car.
"Shouldn’t you have your seatbelt on?" she asked.
"Okay, Mama," he said cheerfully, and complied.
I’m going insane.
The driver said nothing the rest of the way and dropped them off in front of her apartment complex without asking for directions. Toby darted out of the car and shoved the door to the lobby open with all his might.
She trailed, even more perplexed when the janitor waxing the floor called out a cheerful, "Hey, Toby!"
She rubbed her head, wondering if the kid lived somewhere else in the building while unable to shake the sense that something was really, really wrong. Toby held the elevator for her and pressed the buttons for all twenty floors. She looked at him hard, unable to recall anything at all about the kid.
They reached the sixth floor, where her apartment was. He darted off the elevator and down the hall, stopping in front of her apartment. She opened the door, and he strode in as if he owned the place. Toby bolted to the first room on the right, the guest bedroom.
Katie looked around her apartment, eyes lingering on a drawing done by a child on the fridge. There were pictures on her mantle of the two of them together when he was younger, toys piled into a box near her couch, a school lunch menu and more pictures--these apparently from past Halloweens--on the bulletin board on one wall of the kitchen. She took it all in, feeling as if she'd stepped into the Twilight Zone, and followed Toby down the hall.
The guest room was redone in race cars and Disney characters. His energy sapped, the kid was sprawled half asleep across the race car bed. She stared at the walls, wondering who’d had the time to repaint her guest room. It certainly didn’t smell like someone had painted it recently, and there were scuff marks, crayon, and dirt on the walls.
As if it’d been a kid’s room for a long time. She hesitated, then covered him with a blanket and walked to the guest bathroom. It, too, was done up in a race car theme with toys lining the side of the tub.
Head pulsing, she retreated to the kitchen and painkillers, staring at a picture drawn by a kid, probably Toby, on the table before her.
She didn’t have any kids. She’d never had kids. She’d never met Toby before this day!
Her cell rang, and she stared at it briefly through bleary eyes.
"Hey sis," she said after pressing the answer button. "I’ve had a horrible day!"
"Oh, hon, I’m sorry to hear that," her sis said in a distracted tone that said she really didn’t care. "Toby still sick?"
"What?" Katie asked.
"Is Toby still sick?"
She drew the phone away from her head and
stared at it, willing herself to wake up.
"Hello, Katherine?"
"Yeah."
"Ooooh, are you having one of your…issues?" Hannah whispered the last word.
"What issues?"
"You know…your amnesia issues."
"I have amnesia?" Katie asked.
"Hon, call Dr. Williams immediately."
"Who? Hannah, when I left home this morning, I had no kids! None. None!"
"God, it’s getting worse, isn’t it?" Hannah said with genuine concern. "Gio’s paying for the best neurologist in the world. You may as well go in."
"So you’re still engaged to Giovanni. And I work at…"
"McGillen’s, like you have for the past few months. I think it's your third job this fall, which is why yes, we’re still paying your rent," Hannah said with some irritation.
"I remember those things. You can’t tell me I’d forget my own child!" Katie all but shouted. “Hannah, I’m eighteen! Teens my age don’t have five year old kids!”
"Let me guess, you have a headache. You probably did something stupid like leave Toby on the train."
Katie’s mouth worked without producing sound.
"We go through this at least twice a year." Now Hannah sounded bored rather than concerned. "Call the doc. You keep his number on the fridge."
Katie looked to the fridge, where a small business card was stuck beneath a cartoon magnet. She plucked it free.
"Yeah," she managed. "Yeah, I’ll call him."
"We’ll have brunch Saturday. Don’t be late this time. I have to get ready for the Kingsly gala,” Hanna said. “Oh, and wear something decent this time. You looked like you were in pj’s last time."
"Yeah."
Katie set the phone on the table and stared at the kid’s drawings on the fridge.
How could she remember everything but her child? She felt sick to her stomach.
Chapter Two
Dr. Williams gave Katie a warm smile. "Almost everything looks normal. There's an anomaly in your blood test, but you’re physically healthy," he said.
"Just a mental mess?" she prodded.
"Don’t be hard on yourself," he chided, pulling a rolling chair up to the exam table. "Your amnesia is trauma induced from the rape you survived a little over five years ago."
