REMEMBER ME (Secrets of Spirit Creek Book 1)

by Linda Style

  “Please pick up, Tori,” he said. “I know you’re there and I have something to tell you. Something important.”

  She couldn’t imagine what, and was annoyed that no one seemed to respect her wishes. She snatched up the phone. “What is it, Gordon?”

  “Actually, it’s good news,” he said. “The police have a suspect in custody who they think might be the…one.”

  “What?”

  Gordon repeated what he’d said.

  “They have someone, but they don’t know yet if it’s him?” she repeated what Gordon had said, her mind still reeling.

  “That’s right. They’re doing DNA tests, but that’s never quick. A month, maybe.”

  “Yes, but I don’t understand. Why is he in custody if they don’t know?”

  “They picked him up as a suspect in a case with an MO similar to yours, which means there’s a possibility it could be the same guy.”

  The air left her lungs. She couldn’t believe it, not after all this time. “That’s almost too good to be true.”

  “Yes. But there’s something else. They’d like you to come down and answer some questions—things they didn’t ask before. And they’d like you to take a look at mug shots. Maybe a lineup. I know that would be difficult, but it’s important.”

  The trembling started in her hand, then radiated to her arms and legs until her whole body was shaking. She felt cold. Icy cold. She had to get a blanket…get warm. Yes, she needed to get warm.

  “They’re holding him on a skimpy charge and they can’t do it for long without making an arrest. They need something to go on and you’re the only person who can give them that. If they can’t hold him, he might skip.”

  Still shaking, she somehow got out the words, “I can’t, Gordon. I just can’t.”

  She hung up and dashed to her bedroom and huddled under the covers, trembling and shivering and unable to stop.

  She had no tears. No thoughts other than she couldn’t go through that entire process again. She just couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

  Serena had called and so had her parents, but she didn’t answer. Finally she phoned them back and told everyone she was fine but not to call for a while. Then she unplugged the cordless phone and turned off her cell phone. The only thing that kept her moving was Bruno and Cleo. They had to be fed, watered and let out. They needed her attention and they let her know they weren’t getting enough.

  She moved from room to room, checking the windows and the doors and making sure the security alarms worked. Then she repeated the process, not eating or sleeping except when she had to or could no longer stay awake. And when she did sleep, she huddled under the covers with the dogs in bed next to her.

  Two days later, Serena and Natalia started calling again and wouldn’t quit, so she talked to them, but only enough to say she was fine. She’d told Quint not to work on the fence anymore, and then she went to the safe room she’d had built when she moved in. She’d never used it, never needed it, she realized.

  She peered inside the gray box of a room, then went in and closed the door. She sat in a corner, hugging her knees to her chest. The space was small, eight-by-nine, maybe. But it was stocked with water and enough boxed food to last for a few weeks. It had a phone, porta potty, cot, small table, a chair and paper to write on. She’d told the man who’d built it that she wanted it in case of a nuclear disaster. After the 9/11 terrorist attack, it wasn’t all that unusual for people to want to be safe. Even in Spirit Creek.

  Sitting there with the gray concrete walls surrounding her, she realized the place where Linc had spent the last ten years probably wasn’t much bigger, or may have been smaller. And he’d had to share it with another prisoner.

  But she was alone…in her own prison.

  That thought kept playing over and over. She’d been in her own self-imposed prison ever since the attack. She’d let a lowlife scum rapist control her whole life. She’d tried to get beyond it when she’d married Dylan. But the marriage only made things worse. She’d felt guilty for what had happened, as if somehow it were her fault. Dylan hadn’t been able to deal with it, and she couldn’t blame him…not until she realized that somewhere deep inside, he believed it was her fault, too.

  Sitting there, her stomach roiled and churned, anger and despair mounting until it felt like a volcano burning in her gut. Filled with scalding fury, she launched to her feet, grabbed the phone and ripped it from the wall. Damn them! Damn everyone who had taken her life. She slammed the phone against the table, smashing it over and over until she slumped into a heap on the floor, so weak she couldn’t lift her arms. Years of tears streamed down her cheeks as she realized the truth. She’d let it happen. She’d allowed it to happen.

  Even though she’d known intellectually that she had to reclaim her life, she’d been unable to do it. All these years, she’d been living as a victim and not really living at all.

  When the tears finally stopped, she stood, straightened her shoulders, went to the garage, got out her tool chest and three screwdrivers, and then went to her bedroom. She took a deep breath, and willing her feet to move—to take that first step—she walked over to the window.

  She reached up and put the screwdriver into the first screw, twisted and turned until it finally came out, and then she did another and another, until every single lock except one was off all the windows in her room. Her hands ached as she opened the last lock and lifted the window, and her heart pounded with an excitement she hadn’t felt in…forever.

  Standing in the opening, she inhaled deeply as if she were a newborn breathing in its first breath. Her chest expanded as a cool breeze caressed her face and ruffled her hair. In that single moment, she felt as if she’d just conquered Mount Everest.

  And, for the first time in years, she felt free.

  After standing there awhile, she picked up the phone and called Quint to see if he knew how to build a wine room. Then she called her former therapist and made an appointment so she could tell her she’d been right all along. Then she went to remove more locks.

  And then she called Gordon.

  “Are you certain?” Gordon asked.

  “I don’t know how anyone can ever be certain, but if I don’t do this and he’s the one, he’ll be out there hurting other people. I can’t live with that on my conscience, either. Just let me know when they need me, and I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  LINC GLANCED at the unopened, bound package on the table, then stared out the window of his temporary apartment. He had a perfect place to stay until he got his life sorted out. In fact, everything was perfect for now. He was learning the ropes at the Saloon, and Ed Baker, Mac’s partner, had said Linc could even manage the place after a while. Not a career, but it would be okay until he decided whether to take up his life where he’d left off all those years ago, or decide to do something else.

  He’d leased the apartment as a sublet for six months while the other renters went someplace warm for the fall and winter. It was furnished, and he was within walking distance of the bar. Good exercise for his leg, Mac had said. He’d gotten a replacement driver’s license, and planned to buy a truck when he’d saved enough money. All in all, he should feel good about his progress. Instead, he felt like a pile of crap.

  While reading the case file Tori’s attorney had brought him, he’d remembered. A lot. His ex-fiancée had cheated on him. He’d called her anyway, but hung up before she answered. What was the point? The problem now was that though he remembered many things, the past several weeks were more vivid in his mind. His former life never had a chance to get off the ground, and the person he read about was like a stranger to him. He didn’t feel like that guy anymore.

  While he’d been at Tori’s, he’d had a humongous longing and regret for the life he’d lost. But now that his memory was coming back, he didn’t feel the sense of completion he’d thought he would. He regretted the ten years he’d lost, but he couldn’t get them back. The only thing he cou
ld do was forget and go on.

  His biggest regrets came when he thought about Tori. He’d winced when reading the file, gritted his teeth thinking of the pain she must’ve gone through not only during the actual attack, but then having to relive it and hear people attack her, as if somehow it was her fault. With every word he read, he wanted to punch something…or someone. He railed at the unfairness and injustice for everyone, but mostly for Tori. She was a 17 year-old girl, her adult life just beginning. He clenched his hands into fists. If he ever found the guy who’d hurt her, he didn’t know if he could stop himself from killing the son of a bitch.

  He closed his eyes. He had so many regrets when he thought about Tori, and since he couldn’t stop thinking about her, regret dogged him every minute of every day.

  When he wasn’t angry, he thought about how good it had felt to hold her in his arms. How wonderful it was to be needed…loved. But he always came back to the same thing. She’d lied. He’d loved her. No, that was wrong. He still loved her—and she’d lied.

  He could understand her wanting to ease the guilt she felt, but why had she made love with him? Let him believe she really cared. That hurt the most.

  Now, learning the ropes at the Moon was good for him, kept his mind busy and not on Tori. Therapy had the same effect, but it was the rest of the time that was a problem. He’d gotten the package on the table earlier in the day and hadn’t opened it yet. He knew what it was. The journals he’d kept while in prison. Ten years of his angst and despair, moments of hope and years of bitter resignation.

  One of the guards Linc had been friendly with had found them when doing a search, and he’d given them to Linc’s court-appointed attorney. Linc had only learned of them when he’d called to let the attorney know where he could be reached if something came up.

  He stared at the package. The journals were a reminder of things he wanted to forget. He was better off not looking at them.

  Then he thought of Tori, and what she must be feeling now—knowing the rapist was still out there. He remembered her nightmares, the lie she’d told him about the childhood burglar. How scared she’d been. How scared she must be right now.

  Oh, God. He scrubbed a hand over his face. Yeah. No matter what he felt about her lies, he had to know if she was okay.

  He picked up his cane and went out the door. The Cosmic Bean was just down the street. Serena would know.

  When Linc walked into the Bean, the tension in the air was so thick he couldn’t have sliced it with a machete. And he and Serena were the only two people there. She was cleaning up from the lunch crowd.

  “You’re too late—lunch is over,” she said as she scooped up some dishes and walked to the counter.

  “I don’t want lunch.” He sat on a stool. “I want to talk.”

  She picked up a towel and wiped off the copper espresso machine behind the counter.

  Linc tapped his fingers. Finally, she took a cup from the shelf and filled it with coffee from a carafe on a coffeemaker and set it in front of him. Without saying a word, she took another cloth and started cleaning the condiment containers at each table.

  “How’s Tori?” he asked.

  Serena stopped what she was doing and glared at him. “What do you care?”

  Why was she angry at him? Tori was the one who’d been dishonest. “I just want to know,” he said.

  “Well, ask her yourself.”

  His muscles felt like sailors’ knots under his skin. “I don’t get it. Why are you so angry with me? I didn’t do anything. She’s the one who lied. The one who—” He stopped. Serena knew exactly what Tori had done. “I just want to know how she is, that’s all. I know she’s been through a lot.”

  “Been through a lot?” Serena huffed. Then, looking at him, she threw up her hands, as if she was at a loss. “I’m not mad at you, Linc,” she said as she sat down on the stool next to him. “I just hate to see two people who’ve been through so much, each in your own way, end up with so much hurt when it doesn’t have to be like that.”

  Linc took a sip of hot coffee and felt the chicory taste burn down his throat. “I don’t see how it can be any other way.”

  Serena laid her hand on his arm. “Do you know how torn she’s been? Do you have any idea how she felt when she learned about her mistake? All she wanted to do was make it right somehow, and things just happened. She didn’t start out to mislead you, but when you didn’t have anyone to help you, she didn’t have a choice. No matter what happened. She knew you’d find out or remember, but even if you didn’t, she planned to tell you.”

  “But she didn’t.”

  “She knew you’d leave once you found out.” She stood, then went over to the glass-front fridge and got out a Snapple. “Tori didn’t lie to deceive you. She wanted to help you. She never thought for a moment that money could replace the years you lost. But she knew she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t do something. Do you have any idea what that must be like?”

  He took another sip of coffee. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought of all this stuff. But that wasn’t the issue. Love was the issue. Making him think she cared when it was all a lie.

  Serena sat next to him again, her voice softening when she said, “I know it nothing can replace the time you lost, but the time ahead is what’s important now, isn’t it?”

  He looked at her. “What money?”

  Her eyes went wide, apparently realizing she’d said something she shouldn’t. She gestured as if zipping her lips.

  Linc let out a long breath. “I’m going to find out anyway, so…”

  Serena’s shoulders sagged. “Okay, but you can’t say anything. And I’m only telling you because I want you to understand she’s not the conniving person you seem to think she is.”

  In his heart he knew she wasn’t. But he said, “Okay,” anyway.

  Looking resigned, she sighed. “The money in the bank, Tori put it there for you.”

  His mind spun. Did she think money would make up for―

  “I told her it was a mistake, but she knew you wanted to go to California, so she sold a painting to put money in the bank for you.”

  Remembering the blank space on the wall in her studio, he said, “The Field of Dreams painting?”

  Nodding, she said, “That was the first painting Tori did after she moved here. The first since the attack. She’d finally felt as if she was getting her life together.”

  “Then why would she sell it?”

  “Because, most of her money is in a trust, and she wanted to open that bank account for you so you could find your father.”

  He bowed his head. “Who did she sell it to?”

  “An art gallery in Tlaquepaque. They’d tried to buy it after she had a show there a while back, but she wanted to keep it. That isn’t the point, though. What I’m trying to say is that if you love each other, you have to get beyond all this crap. You should be together.” She tipped her head to look at him. “Do you love her? Because I know she loves you.”

  Linc closed his eyes to push back the moisture. God, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d shed a tear for anything. “Do you know if she’s at home?”

  “She’s not. The Phoenix police have a suspect in custody, and because they have new information, they need to ask Tori some questions they didn’t ask before. She’s on her way there now.”

  “Alone?”

  “She said her attorney would be there.” Shaking her head, Serena said, “I can’t imagine having to live through that all over again.”

  He couldn’t imagine, either.

  “They’re doing more DNA, but that takes a while, and they don’t want the guy to get out and skip. Apparently, if Tori can give them any information to go on, they can hold him.”

  Linc got up, his head swimming with thoughts of Tori. He’d heard Tori’s screams in the night, saw her tearstained face, felt her shaking uncontrollably when he’d held her. And she was there facing this monster alone. He got to the door and stopped. He tu
rned. “I need to get to Phoenix.”

  Serena smiled. Just then, Natalia came through the door. “Am I interrupting something?”

  “No,” Serena said. “Give Linc your car keys. He needs to go to Phoenix.”

  Natalia looked at him. “Do you have a license?”

  He nodded and she handed him the keys without question. “Thanks,” he said, and bolted out the door. He stuffed himself into the small car, then spit gravel.

  The courtroom flashed in his head. The police department where they’d taken him after he’d been arrested both times. A wave of nausea hit him. Going back to the place that had turned his life into a nightmare was the last thing he wanted to do.

  But he had to get there, be there for her, no matter what he felt.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  TORI SAT IN THE SMALL utilitarian office at police headquarters in Phoenix, the same place she’d been before. Waiting. Waiting to be told when she could go in to see if she recognized any of the men in the lineup. After so many years, she doubted she could. She tried not to think about what she was going to do, but couldn’t stop the anxiety that made her skin feel as if it weren’t her own.

  She needed to do this, she kept telling herself. Because this time she’d be certain. Shirley Maffey, the victim advocate, had assured her that nothing would happen based on her identification. It was just another part of the holding process. They had DNA this time that would prove guilt one way or another. And in fact, they wouldn’t even let her know if the person she identified was the suspect they’d arrested.

  She couldn’t help thinking that if they had done a better job before, then Linc…She stopped the thought. Going over it again and again served no purpose. This would be her closure. It had to be.

  Hearing a noise, she turned. Shirley was talking to someone outside, then she came back in and closed the door behind her. “There’s someone here to see you,” she said.

  Gordon. It had to be Gordon. He’d texted earlier to say he was stuck in traffic.