by Linda Wright
“Hush…” He leaned in to kiss her. She tipped her head back, awaiting the moment. “Wait…” He hesitated.
“Hmm?”
“What’s this.” His fingers circled the back of her upper arm.
“No kiss?”
“I’m more concerned about this scratch.”
“What scratch—ow!” She turned over her arm to look at the small scab. “That happened at the bar.”
“You remember?”
“No, it’s fading. Hurt me again. Quick!”
“What? No.”
“Do it, please. Ow! There was an old guy. He was taking me outside to get some air.”
“That’s where I lost you.” He scooped up the robe and hung it over Amari’s shoulders. “What else do you remember?”
“A minivan. A black one, I think.. We drove for about ten minutes—to a marina.”
“A marina? You’re sure?”
“Pretty sure. I could smell the sea. I heard gulls.”
“There’s only one marina within ten minutes of La Casa.”
“We walked over a gang-plank.”
“Do you remember anything about the yacht?”
“Only that it was white.”
“They’re all white, Amari.”
“I’m sorry, it’s all very hazy after that point.”
He kissed her. “It’s a lot more than we had.”
“I done good?”
“You done good,” he assured her.
~
Of course, being naked in his arms and having Paul all to herself would have been the perfect time to make love, but her mind was elsewhere, spoiling the mood. They retired to her bed, not to consummate their relationship, but to allow Amari some well-earned rest, even if it was ten o’clock in the morning.
But rest evaded her. Disjointed memories teased her mind, images of bare skin, the smell of food, alcohol, the feel of a hot body against hers. She cried out as someone kissed her, stroked her intimately, slid inside her.
“Oh, yes.”
“Amari…”
“Oh, my god, yes.” She tensed as his hardness pushed deeper, thrilling her.
“Amari…”
“Please don’t stop…” She arched as his hard body pressed against hers, claiming her as his own.
“AMARI!”
Her eyes opened. Paul looked down on her, concern written on his face. The erotic dream crumbled to dust.
“I… Paul?”
“It wasn’t me you were dreaming about, then?” He smiled from one side of his mouth.
“I don’t… really remember.” She tried to recall something of her dream, but it had already evaporated, turning to mist. She also tried to remember how she’d ended up in bed with Paul. A quick check assured her she wasn’t naked—and neither was he. He wore a t-shirt at minimum.
Paul frowned, wondering if he believed her. “If you can remember anything, it might give us a clue.”
“I’m sorry. It’s gone.”
He sighed. “Don’t worry. At least you’re back now.”
“Did I say anything? Anything useful?”
“Only that you were with somebody.”
“With… No, you don’t mean I was with somebody.”
“It sounded pretty cozy,” he admitted.
“Oh, god, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what that could have been.”
“I guess we’ll never know—unless you feel like going straight back to sleep?”
“Afraid not. But wait…”
“Uh-huh?”
“If I dreamt about being with somebody—assuming it was about last night…” her voice tailed off. The idea suddenly seemed stupid. What if she’d been dreaming about a former lover? Did she want Paul knowing about her past?
“Go on…”
“No, forget it.”
“Amari…”
She sighed. “I was going to suggest hypnosis, to see if you could find out anything more.”
“Hypnosis proved traumatic on the other patients.”
She scowled. “I’m not sure I like being called a patient.”
“I’ll only use the term when it’s relevant,” he promised. “At all other times, you’ll be pumpkin, or my little sweetie pie.”
“I think I preferred ‘patient,’” she confessed.
“I’m not comfortable exposing you to that kind of risk.”
“You didn’t mind exposing me last night.” She smirked.
“Funny girl.”
“But if I was dreaming about the event, surely I’m open to hypnotic regression?”
Paul made a thoughtful face and considered the idea. “If you’re willing to try.”
“Isn’t that why we’re doing this whole ‘amateur detective’ thing?”
“It could still be risky.”
“I’m in safe hands.” She let her head rest against his covered chest. His heart rumbled in her ear. She smiled as he pulled her against him, feeling more comfortable than she had in years.
“I’ll make you a deal.”
“Okay…” she said warily.
“If you do something for me…”
“This isn’t to do with sex, is it?”
“Well, I do have needs…”
Her heart sank. “Oh, Paul. You know I’d love to, but is this really the best time?”
“I was going to suggest we have coffee first, and then try regression.”
“Coffee?” Part of her was relieved, but to her surprise, a small part of her sang ‘aw, boo…’ at the tease.
“Like I said, I have needs.”
“You can be a smartass sometime, you know?”
“Isn’t that why you love me so much?”
“I… Yes, it probably is.”
“So you do love me?”
“Course, you big lunk.” She tipped her head back, and he kissed her, slow and deep. Their lips mashed and their tongues danced joyfully. Her body thrilled at the idea of being in bed with him, of him holding her close. But when his prominent swelling pressed into her hip, she decided enough was enough—for now.
“Come on, lover boy.” She threw the covers aside. “Time for coffee.” She was relieved to see him in boxer shorts as well as his t-shirt.
“Whatever you say, sweetie pie.”
~
“With regression, I encourage the patient to immerse herself fully into the memory, but in your case…” he pressed a tiny china doll into her hand and curled her fingers around it. It was a childhood toy, a gift from her mother when Amari had reached her teenage years.
“Why this?”
“Think of it as an anchor to the here and now. If the memories become too overwhelming, or you feel threatened, open your hand and remember this house, this room.”
“It’s that simple?” Amari opened and closed her hand a few times, rehearsing the movement.
“In theory…” Paul admitted. “I haven’t tried it on a real patient before.”
“You’re gambling my sanity on a theory?”
“Did I mention the risks involved, Ms. Ratchek?”
“You did. I’m sorry. Do your best, Doctor Siddig.”
“Ouch.”
“And please don’t use my surname. Amari is fine.”
“You don’t like your family name?”
“Would you enjoy being called ‘Rat Shit’ in junior school, and ‘Nurse Ratchet’ all through high school and college?”
“Would you have become a doctor if they hadn’t?”
“I haven’ the faintest idea. Are we going to do this, or shall we discuss my career aspirations?”
“Okay, try to relax.”
“Easier said than—”
“Relax, Amari…” his voice turned seductive, and she smiled.
“Do you use the same honeyed tones on your other patients?”
“Hush. Let your body sink. Breathe in deeply through your mouth, and out through your nose. Now in… and out…” As Amari visibly relaxed, Paul took a moment to admire the softness of her face, her permanent qu
irky smile. She’d brushed her hair after they’d risen from her bed, but she still looked delightfully dishevelled. Her breasts rose and fell as she followed his directions. Sure, he’d seen her naked last night, but he’d applied a professional eye on that occasion, rather than a lustful one.
“In… and out…” he repeated. Very quickly, she displayed all the signs of complete relaxation. Only her fingers, curled around the figurine, showed any signs of purpose. Using the same soft tones, Paul took her mind back to La Casa, and the moment she’d been scratched. Her brow wrinkled and she shook her head minutely.
“No… dizzy…”
“Where is he taking you, Amari?”
“Daylight room… door, garden… two steps down. Grass.” Her head moved as she glanced around the memory. “Air is cold. Walking… round the side. Car park.”
“Are you getting into a car?”
She shook her head. “Minivan. Side door squeaking. Needs oil.”
“And now you’re moving? Driving along for ten minutes?”
She nodded. “I see a white forest.”
He frowned. “A forest? Not a marina?”
“A marina, yes. White forest… they’re the masts.”
“Okay, good. Now, when you get out of the minivan, try to read the names of the yachts. Can you do that?”
She nodded. “Serenity…”
“Good, and the next one?”
“Atlantic Explorer…”
“Good.”
“Serendipity… Voyager… Promise…” As Amari recounted her memory, Paul counted off the names on his fingers, pleased with the clarity of Amari’s regression. Hopefully they’d be able to ID the yacht she’d ended up on.
“Gull’s Tones… Second Wind… Dem...” Paul waited for more, but Amari fell silent.
“Have you stopped moving?”
“We’re going aboard.”
“Aboard the Dem?”
“Yes.”
“What sort of a name is ‘Dem’ for a boat?”
“I… can’t see it properly. There might be more.”
“Something’s in the way?”
“The boarding plank. With chains.”
“We’ll figure it out later. There can’t be many boats with ‘Dem’ in their name. Go on inside.”
“I… I’m trying to…” Amari twisted her head from side to side. “I can’t move. I’m stuck on the quayside.”
“Can you get one foot onto the plank?”
“No. Something’s stopping me. I want to but… not going back.” She shook her head. “Not going back.”
Paul sighed, and brought Amari back to the present. She apologized as she rubbed her eyes.
“Nothing to apologize for,” he assured her.
“I wanted to board that boat, to see what happened next. But I couldn’t. It’s as if something was pushing me away, like the wrong end of magnet.”
“You had the same reaction as the other patients.”
“I did? That tells us everything we need to know.”
“We found the boat. Now what do we do about it?”
“Call the cops, of course.”
“And tell them what? You had a strange dream about a yacht?”
She presented her scars. “What about these?”
“Nothing to link it to the boat, unless the DNA returns a match to someone connected with it.”
She sagged. “We’d have to get a warrant to search it for whatever made these marks.”
“I wonder…” Paul tapped his lips with a forefinger. “Maybe you can’t go back onto the boat, but what if you could recognize someone from last night?”
“I wouldn’t feel comfortable going back to La Casa.”
“I was thinking about hanging around the marina.”
“It’s worth a shot.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“Talking of getting lucky…” she dropped her gaze to her feet. “Sorry about earlier. It would have been wonderful, I’m sure, but my mind was elsewhere.”
“Amari, you were attacked last night, possibly… taken advantage of.”
“Taken advantage of? You can say rape—”
“No, not that. Coerced, perhaps. But you’re completely free of bruises, aside from the scratch and the marks on your arm.”
She rolled her eyes. “And the lingering effects of the drug, and the missing hours…”
“Okay, but with all that going on in your head? I would have been surprised if you had been in the mood.”
“I took my clothes off for you. Not every guy gets to see that.”
“That wasn’t seduction, Amari. That was patient care.”
“Aw.” She pouted.
“Maybe we should solve this mystery first, then think about intimacy.”
“Maybe we should, you sweet talker, you.”
~
The marina shops were ridiculously expensive, Amari decided. A plethora of designer labels assaulted the eye in every store. Paul watched the passers-by as Amari made a pretense of browsing, and in the next store, they reversed roles. Despite being greeted warmly, and complimented in every store, they managed to refrain from purchasing any wares, all of which boasted a minimum four-figure price tag.
“Haven’t these people heard of discount stores?” she asked.
“I think they would burst into flames if they set foot in one.”
I mean, isn’t there anything these people won’t buy?” She indicated a passing foursome who carried sports bags, monogrammed with their yacht’s name.
“Amari, wait.” He grabbed her arm. “Gull’s Tones?”
“Yeah, it’s hilarious. They must be doctors, or surgeons.”
“Gull’s Tones was one of the yachts you passed on the way to the Dem.”
“So we’re in the right place?” She began to hurry. “Let’s ask them—”
“And raise suspicion? No, we wait until they come back from the gym…”
“Or the spa…”
“Or wherever, and we follow them.”
“Why can’t we start looking now?”
“Because most piers on marinas have coded access gates.”
“What? Why?”
“To stop random people sneaking around their boats when they’re at the gym.”
“People like us?”
“Exactly.”
“Oh. Right. So what do we do in the meantime?”
“There’s a pavement cafe over there.”
“Mmm. Over-priced coffee. How much money did you bring?”
~
As it turned out, they had enough for three cups, which nearly lasted until the two couples passed by. The pair scrambled from their seats and hurried after the crew, walking quickly so they’d be in time to meet them at the security gate. But one of them women turned to look back, frowning.
They know we’re following them. On impulse, Amari shrieked at Paul and broke into a run, racing past the startled couples.
“Come back!” Paul yelled without thinking.
“Leave me alone!” she screamed, running backward. “Get away from me.” She raced ahead, dangerously close to twisting an ankle in her heels. She reached the gate ten seconds ahead of the couples, then dug deep into her bag for an imaginary pass key.
“Oh, my god.” She glanced fearfully at the approaching Paul, who was now overtaking the foursome. “Oh my god, where is it?”
“Here, lady.” One of the men swiped a card across a sensor and the gate opened. Amari almost fell through. Paul loomed large behind the group as they poured through the narrow gate, but the men formed a wall and kept him from pushing past. Once through, the men turned and glared at him. They pushed the gate firmly shut, and a loud click indicated it had locked.
“Oh, god, thank you,” Amari gushed, pawing one of the women’s hands.
“Hey!” Paul pushed an arm through the railings. “Get back here.”
“You got business here, buddy?”
“She’s my business. You’re with me, sweetie
pie!”
“Don’t come near me!” She spun on her heel and stalked away, outpacing the two women, who exchanged concerned glances and hurried after her. Paul yelled once more, then quieted, backing away from the railings as Amari hurried down the mooring pier.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he murmured.
With the two men still glaring at him, he jammed his hands into his pockets and sidled away, kicking at a loose stone and glancing back only once.
“What was that all about?” one of the women asked Amari.
“He’s always trying to control me. He doesn’t want me to do anything!” Amari had to think quickly. If the women asked too many questions, or stayed too close, she’d never get a good look at the mysterious Dem, or get a chance to sneak aboard—if she could even force herself to step onto the plank. Maybe events would unfold as they had in her regression, and she’d be somehow blocked.
“I only wanted to see him one more time. I only wanted to say good bye, but he told me I wasn’t to come here again.”
“Who? Who did you want to see?”
Amari had no idea. She pressed a hand to her mouth and crumpled her face into anguish. One of the women hugged her. The other patted her arm.
“Which boat are you heading for?” One of the men asked.
“The Dem…” Amari faked a sob. “The Dem…” she pressed her other hand over the first.
“The Demeter,” both men chorused.
“The Demeter, yes,” she repeated the strange name, fixing it in her head. Result!
“You’ll be lucky to see anybody this side of sunset, lady,” one guy said.
“Mister Vane prefers the night shift,” his companion added. “Not one for lounging on the sun deck, that guy.”
Mister Vane… Amari committed the name to memory.
“Nice boat though.”
“Dude? It’s a ship, not a boat.”
“What? It’s a boat, man.”
“It’s got its own launch, man. That makes it a ship.”
Leaving the pair to argue semantics, Amari turned to thank the women.
“Any time,” they chorused.
“You looked so scared. What’d he do to you?”
“Last night,” she lowered her voice. “He made me stand naked in my own living room while he watched.”
“He watched?”
“And he made me turn around, just for the view.”
