Forget Me Not: A Novel (Crossroads Crisis Center)

by Vicki Hinze

  “This is Three Gables,” Ben said, then drove through the gate with a friendly wave to the security guard who appeared from a small building surrounded with thick evergreen shrubs nestled behind a broad brick fence post.

  “It’s beautiful.” Susan looked from the house to the grounds. Swatches of lush green grass dotted with tree-studded islands stretched out to the distant woods. A circular driveway led to the front landing. It branched off and went to the back of the property, where she assumed the guest cottages were. “Did your wife design it too?”

  “We designed the house together.” He blinked hard. “How did you know she was involved?”

  “I see her touch. Just like at the center. She liked soft edges and natural stone. Lots of greenery, and the islands are a dead giveaway.” She smiled. “Little pockets of refuge scattered everywhere.”

  Her insight clearly surprised him. “So that’s why she insisted on benches in every island.” He let out a little moan. “I can’t believe I missed that.”

  “She needed peaceful places,” Susan said, focusing on one of the cast-iron benches. “It was important for her to know she always had a protected place to go. A haven, so to speak.”

  Ben hit the brakes. The SUV jerked to a halt. “How do you know that?”

  Surprised by the venom in his voice, Susan drew back, half-afraid of him. “I-I don’t know. It just seems … well, obvious.”

  “Did you know my wife?” His grip on the wheel had his knuckles bulging and white.

  “I don’t know, Ben.” Susan deliberately dropped her voice, hoping to calm him down. “Three Gables doesn’t seem at all familiar to me, so I don’t think I’ve been here. But who knows? I wouldn’t want to say I didn’t know her and then when my memory returns, discover that I did.” Susan met his gaze and held it. It was hard, very hard, but she sensed it was critically important too—as important as being patient with him. “I wish I could say one way or the other, but I honestly don’t know.”

  The reminder of her memory challenge seemed to work, gauging by his rapidly changing expressions: fury falling to uncertainty, hinting at regret, and then wooden. He diverted his gaze, stared through the windshield, and drove alongside the house. Behind it, he stopped the SUV outside an oversized garage.

  From the edge of the concrete pad, two paths led through natural greenbelts of old oaks and fat bushes that had lost most of their buds. In the distance, two rooftops peeked through the fall foliage. “Is there a specific reason you have two guest cottages?”

  He cleared his throat. “No.” He opened his door and got out, walked around, and then opened her door.

  She grabbed the scrubs Peggy had given her and scooted out of the SUV, her muscles in knots. So much for no stress or tension.

  The air was warm but thankfully not stagnant. A stiff breeze crackled through the trees, tugged at her eyelids.

  Ben closed the door and it clicked shut. “I talked with Mark.”

  “Mark?”

  “Mark Taylor, the head of my security staff. He recommends you stay in the cottage on the right.” Ben started down the stone path. “It’s most interior on the property and easier to defend.”

  No doubt Ben intended that comment to make her feel safe. Instead, it tightened the knots in her muscles. Yet walking beside Ben, she took in the tranquil sounds of chirping birds. Something scuttled in the undergrowth to her left—a squirrel. It scampered up the trunk of a moss-laden oak and leapt to a distant branch.

  Leaves rustled and crunched underfoot, and she felt her tension draining away. Ben might have every reason to resent her and wish her out of his life, but he would defend her, even if it meant putting himself at risk—which he was by having her stay here. She liked that about him. A lot. It spoke volumes about his character, and about his views on being a man. “Ben?”

  “Yes, Su—” He stopped cold, swallowed hard, and then started again. “Yes?”

  He couldn’t do it, Susan realized. He couldn’t call her by his wife’s name. She understood that, especially considering their physical resemblance. And since she didn’t know that the name actually belonged to her, she could at least make that hurdle easier for him. “I expect I’ve been quite a shock for you.”

  Something between a grunt and a moan escaped him.

  “No, it’s okay. Of course I would be a shock. Roles reversed, I’d be stunned.” She stared at the ground and walked on down the path. Her throat went thick. “I’m sorry about your wife and son,” she said softly. “Peggy told me what happened—mostly to dissuade me from believing I was Susan—because of our strong physical resemblance.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s been hard for both of us.”

  Ah, a truce was in sight—or at least on the horizon. “I’ve accepted that I’m not Susan.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “But it leaves me in a lurch.” She shrugged. “Since I don’t know who I am, I don’t have any idea what to use for a name.” Letting him see how much that troubled her, she added, “It’s disconcerting, having your identity stripped from you.”

  “I’m sure it is.” He dragged out a hand and swept it across his forehead.

  “But I know who I am inside, where it matters. A name is just a name.”

  He respected that. It shone in his eyes.

  “I thought maybe until I remember my own, we could pick a name for me that you can say without … well, without pain.” She looked up and met his gaze. “You’ve been good to me and I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Every line in his face tightened. “How can you do this?”

  “Do what?”

  “How can you stand there and be so reasonable and rational and thoughtful? You should be terrified. Furious. Outraged. Something. Instead you seem to take in stride everything that’s happened to you. How can you expect me to believe you?”

  She stopped on the walk and squeezed the scrubs to her chest. “I am terrified.” Admitting it was easier than she thought it would be. She feared if she said it aloud, she’d crumble. She didn’t. “I’m angry too. No one likes being a victim. Why you wouldn’t get that without me becoming a drama queen to prove it is beyond me. But I made allowances because if a man who looked like my dead husband showed up at my crisis center, I’d be a freaked-out basket case.”

  “So it’s an act, then? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying.” She glared up at him. “To act, I’d have to know what is normal, now wouldn’t I? I don’t. I’m just doing the best I can. That’s all, Ben. Just the best I can.”

  He rolled his gaze heavenward. “But how are you holding it all together?” He lifted a hand. “You don’t even know your name. Why aren’t you frantic and coming apart at the seams?” He frowned. “Don’t tell me that you are, because it’s clear that you’re not.”

  “I can explain, but you won’t understand.”

  “Try me. Because from where I’m standing, it makes you look disingenuous. Are you—disingenuous, I mean?”

  “I don’t believe I am, but I don’t know. When I can have faith in my response, I’ll answer you.” She gave him a frown intended to buckle knees. “I have to say the question offends me at gut level.” She walked on. “I know that beyond any doubt.”

  Moments later, he caught up and fell into step at her side without a word.

  The moment of indulgence was over. She couldn’t stay wrapped in righteous indignation. Be patient with him.

  “I feel, Ben. All those things you mentioned and more.” She paused at a low-slung limb and plucked off a leaf. It was dry and crunchy. “But I’m not facing this alone. If I were, well, I doubt I could face it at all.”

  A hard glint lit in his eyes. “So you’ve remembered a partner?”

  Don’t take offense. Don’t do it. Don’t … “Actually, I remember a Father,” she said with a gentle smile. “It’s an amazing thing. Through all of this, I’ve never forgotten Him, only me.”

  “So your father
is involved.” Ben hiked his chin. “Then what is this all about? Is it a scam? And don’t lie to me, okay? You’ve gotten my crisis center bombed. Mel could have been seriously injured. And I have helped you.” He cocked his head. “Did you have plastic surgery to look like Susan?”

  Her smile faded. “My Father is God, Ben. And the reason I’m not falling apart is because I’m resting under the shadow of his wing. He’s carrying me right now.” Her eyes burned. She would not cry. She would not cry. “You know, this isn’t going to work. Thank you for everything. Seriously. But I can make my way from here.”

  She turned and went back down the path toward the driveway, eager to leave Three Gables. Where she’d go, she wasn’t sure. The only option she had was to call Clyde.

  “Wait,” Ben called out. “Please.”

  She steeled herself, paused, then looked back at him over the slope of her shoulder.

  “Are you telling me you don’t remember you but you remember your faith?”

  A smile threatened, tugging at the corner of her mouth. It annoyed her, but she couldn’t bite it away. She was insulted. Why did she feel like smiling? Senseless. “Yes, that’s what I’m telling you. Amazing, isn’t it?”

  “The cottage is open and ready for you. Dinner is in an hour. Tomorrow we’ll get some groceries and you can do what you like at the cottage. For tonight, you’re stuck having dinner with me—provided you’re up to it.”

  That was as close to an apology as she was going to get, and she’d give him the gracious exit and accept it. “I’m up to it.”

  A man built like a wrestler came barreling toward them through the woods. Susan slid between the two men. “Run, Ben! Run!”

  “No, it’s okay.” He stepped around to her side. “It’s Mark—my security chief.”

  Mark Taylor stopped next to her and looked at Ben. “Get inside now. We’ve had a perimeter breach.”

  “Oh no. No. They’re here, Ben.” Susan swallowed a shriek. “They’re here!”

  Edward scanned the woods. Two lanky teens ran full out across Three Gables’ sweeping lawn, heading for the cover of the reservation woods that backed up to it.

  From the passenger’s seat, Harry pointed through the trees. “Who’s that guy?”

  “Mark Taylor,” Edward said, looking out through the windshield, parked curbside. “Brandt’s security chief.”

  “He’s going to catch them.”

  The teens wore baseball caps with something strapped just above the bills, and they were less than thirty seconds ahead of Taylor. “Harry, move.”

  Harry grabbed the wire cutter from the floorboard, tumbled out, and scrambled through the greenbelt brush to Three Gables’ perimeter fence, then cut through the chain-link.

  An alarm blared. Taylor stopped dead in his tracks, then touched his ear—as if listening to someone on his staff give him the location of the breach, then he doubled back, heading for the fence.

  Harry dove into the car and tossed the cutter onto the backseat. “Go! Go! Go!”

  Edward laid on the horn, stomped the gas. The Jag shot down the street.

  In the rearview, he saw Taylor reach the fence and round the corner.

  “There they are.” Harry pointed.

  The teens ran out of the woods and down the sidewalk to a black Lexus. Recognizing it, Edward hit the brakes hard and tucked in behind a white van.

  Harry lurched forward and grabbed the dash. “What are you doing, man?”

  “Look, the Lexus.”

  Harry craned to see. “Van’s blocking me. What’s he doing?”

  Had to be cameras or sensors on the caps. “My guess is he just used those kids to check out Brandt’s perimeter security, which tells us—”

  “He’s going to make the hit here.”

  Edward spared Harry a glance, keeping the two teens in his peripheral vision. “Apparently Three Gables is going to be ground zero.”

  “Oh, man.” Harry whacked a closed fist against the side door panel. “You knew this was gonna happen. That’s why you had me trip the alarm.”

  “Actually, it’s not. Taylor knew the minute the perimeter was breached. I didn’t have to tell him.”

  “Yeah, he was already chasing the kids.” Harry frowned, furrowing the skin between his brows. “Then why did I trip the alarm?”

  “Because Taylor didn’t know this was going to be ground zero,” Edward said. “And he doesn’t stand a chance against the forces coming against them.”

  “Come on, man. He’s supposed to be good.”

  “I never said he wasn’t good. The man has a background in Special Operations.” He was better than good. “I said he didn’t stand a chance against those coming.”

  “Why not?”

  Edward cocked his head. “He’s flawed in away they’re not.”

  “Flawed?” Harry guffawed. “If he’s Special Ops, the man’s got a chest full of medals.”

  “Which proves my point.” Edward stiffened, seeing Paul Johnson pull out into traffic and drive away. “Unfortunately, his is a problem that can’t be fixed.”

  “I wish you’d just say what you have to say.” Harry glared over at Edward. “What’s Taylor’s flaw?”

  Cranking the engine, Edward swiveled his gaze to Harry. “He’s honest.”

  That dropped Harry’s jaw. He thought a second, then said, “That could get in the way, but it doesn’t mean Taylor won’t one-up them.”

  Edward took the break in traffic to pull out onto the road. “Oh, but it does, my friend. It really does.”

  “There you go again. Just say it.”

  “He’s honest,” Edward repeated. “They’re not.”

  Harry stilled. “They’ll do anything. He won’t.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So we’re helping Taylor now too?” Surprise rippled through Harry’s voice.

  Edward hiked a shoulder. “If we don’t, would you rather take a needle or a bullet?”

  “Got it.” Resignation slid down over Harry’s face. “I’ll stick to your plan.” He motioned to the two teens on the sidewalk, walking past. One’s T-shirt showed a distinct imprint. “They’re packing, Edward.”

  “They sure are.” The sorry jerk had hired two kids to do the hit. “Let’s go.”

  “Oh, man, Edward. I don’t want to take out two kids.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Harry knew Edward. He should know he’d never deliberately hit a kid. Christopher had been an unfortunate accident—one that still haunted Edward.

  “Ah, we’re going to beat the—”

  Edward didn’t want to hear it. “We’re going to discourage them from their current paths of activity and give Brandt and the woman a gift.”

  “That helps Taylor. Got it.”

  He pulled to the curb, left the engine running. “Ready?”

  “Let’s go.”

  The teens didn’t know what hit them.

  But they felt it—and then they fought hard. Being no match for grown men, their resistance was short-lived. Soon both boys were out cold in Edward’s backseat. He drove back around the corner straddling Three Gables and hugged the curb where he had been parked earlier. “Let’s get them out there.”

  Rushing, he and Harry dumped the teens onto Brandt’s property just inside the cut fence.

  Harry dropped a kid on the ground. He was still out. “I’ve got to cut back on my smoking, man.” Huffing, he swiped grit from his hands.

  “Worry about that later.” Edward hustled back to the car, grabbed the binoculars from the center console. As soon as he settled in his seat, he shoved them at Harry, then pulled away from the curb.

  “The kids saw who they were fighting, Edward. They’ll describe us to Brandt.”

  “They’d better. Otherwise Brandt and the woman won’t know we stopped something going on against them.”

  Harry parked an elbow on the window. “The cops will know somebody’s scoping out security—”

  “Stretch your mind, Harry.” Edward hung a left
onto Highway 98 and headed toward Panama City. “They’ll know someone else is trying to kill her and we alerted them.”

  “Yeah.” Harry grunted. “Yeah, and even if we get popped for jacking her—”

  “That would be kidnapping her. We jacked the car.”

  “Whatever. We can say we were trying to protect her.”

  “Yes.” Edward allowed himself the hint of a smile. “And it’ll be the truth.”

  “Man, you are something,” Harry said, then sobered. “Remind me never to cross you.”

  Edward’s humor faded. “Cross me and I won’t need to remind you.”

  Fear flashed in Harry’s eyes. “You threatening to kill me, man?”

  “Absolutely not. You’re my partner.”

  “Sounded like a threat to me.”

  “Harry, are you planning on crossing me?” Edward pulled into a coffee shop drive-through.

  “No.” Harry sounded as flustered as he looked. “No way, man.”

  “Then neither of us has anything to worry about, do we?”

  Harry squinted, slid Edward a wary look. “No, we don’t have anything to worry about.”

  Edward relaxed, satisfied. They both had plenty to worry about, but he hoped those issues could be postponed until after they’d dealt with Chessman and his legion of henchmen. Johnson wasn’t the worst of them, but he was bad enough.

  So was the woman who could bury them all.

  10

  Tires squealed at the west boundary of Three Gables, on the street paralleling the property. Without thinking, Susan ran toward the sound.

  Ben followed her. “Stop! Stop!”

  She should stop, but every instinct warned her to run, warned her that running would give her a much-needed answer.

  Twilight flirted with deep shadows in the greenbelt woods beyond the landscaped lawn. Branches and spiny bushes scraped her legs and slapped her arms. A twig caught her right across the neck. She swatted it aside and ran on—and nearly tripped over a teenage boy sprawled on the ground. She dropped down and checked. He had a pulse, but he was out cold. Another boy lay a short distance away.

  “Ben! Hurry!” She scanned the street and caught a glimpse of a red Jag. Inside, she saw one of her abductors, the hooded-sweatshirt guy Mel had described as the crisis center bomber. “Ben!”