A Deadly Memory

by Gwen Taylor

  A Deadly Memory

  Gwen Taylor

  A DEADLY MEMORY © 2020 Gwen Taylor

  Cover Art by Lily Droeven | Rowserein

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Created with Vellum

  Acknowledgments

  Grateful to the many people whose professional input was invaluable. I am grateful for my lovely, talented editor Amalie Berlin. I also thank my alpha reader and first editor/content coach, my sister C. P. And I owe much appreciation and gratitude to Lori Wilde, Laurel Blount, and Michele Barrow-Belisle.

  For AP, the best brother I could ask for.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  1

  The moon looked as red as the blood on her hands.

  Surreal, nightmarish, foreboding, it loomed overhead, taunting her that she’d forgotten something. Something just outside her mind’s reach.

  Piper knew she’d been waiting for that moon, but whatever reason she’d had now skirted behind her memory and refused to come out. And though the thought that the lunar eclipse meant she’d missed something kept nagging at her, the answer wasn’t coming and the frustration just brought more tears to her bruised face.

  If only she could remember.

  Damn. She fisted her hand and winced. That was no good. Every movement sent sharp pains through her entire body. She felt each stab of razoring edges in her teeth, her arms, her abdomen...just breathing hurt.

  She kept telling herself she wasn’t afraid, but the weight of something she didn’t want to name sat heavy and unyielding in her churning stomach.

  She licked her swollen lips and tried again to call out. But the night was empty. Just winds and wisps moving through the forest like blustering spirits that wanted her gone from their haunting grounds.

  Fine by her. But if she were going to get out of wherever she was, she needed to be ready for anything, and unfortunately, her aching arm meant a dislocated shoulder that needed popping back in place.

  You can do this. Piper leaned against a large pine, gathering her strength, and jammed her shoulder into the sturdy trunk.

  “Ahhh!”

  The crunch brought sweat and tears and a stream of words her mother would not have approved of. They seemed to anger the winds too, which picked up their force and howled down at her from the shaking pine tops.

  She bit back whatever else might have slipped out and leaned into the tree, flexing her fingers, willing her lungs to mediate the pain, taking stock of where she was. Deep in a thick wood, judging by the undergrowth and canopy patterns overhead. Lots of oak and poplar along with the pine. Probably Buck Mountain, but she was damned if she knew how or when she’d gotten here.

  Maybe staying in place was a good idea.

  Piper took a long look into the deep dark of the forest behind her. She could simply rest here, wait for dawn and maybe a little more strength...

  And wolves.

  Death.

  Bugs.

  She shuddered. The thought of thousands of insects waiting for her in a bed of dirt had her pushing forward. There would be places just as good to bed down if she had to, but for now, she needed to move on.

  Just keep going. Always move forward, that was her motto. She had made it this far. She’d gotten away...away… Another fragment teased at her mind.

  Away from what?

  Images of a crashed car and bright headlights filled her aching head. Yes, she’d lost control somehow and wrecked. My phone! Panic followed the thought, and she searched herself for it, knowing it wasn’t on her. She felt wiped and weary. Maybe she couldn’t go on after all. She stood completely still and let the silence speak to her. But all she heard was her own labored breathing.

  This was defeat.

  And it tasted a lot like her own sweat and blood.

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. God, please, get me out of this. I’ll… She wanted to bargain, but what did she possibly have to trade for her life? That never worked anyway, the bargaining. She prayed the same plea over and over, absentmindedly plucking needles from a pine branch like a rosary. She could do this. She’d been through worse. Hadn’t she?

  She shook herself. This was not how she was going out. No, she was not completely done in. She could find her way to water, follow it somewhere. She was smart, resourceful, clever, even if she was winging it most of the time. Yes, she could do this.

  She tried to slow her breathing and listen harder, but she couldn’t hear a thing that helped her decide which way to go next.

  Harder, Piper. Listen harder.

  She shuffled off toward the ridge of laurels. Those she recognized. But beyond identifying a few trees and shrubs, and knowing a predator when she saw its teeth, she wouldn’t know an Morel mushroom from a death cap. All the more reason to find her way to civilization.

  But as she made her way through the brush and twisting-root paths of the mature forest, her own footsteps disturbing the equilibrium of the night overwrote other sounds.

  You have to listen harder. Be still.

  She paused near a fragrant flowering shrub, wiping her nose and holding her breath.

  The night around her was full of snapping twigs, rushing wind, and the faint echo of...of...Lynryd Skynryd?

  Her heart sped up. Where there was Skynrd, there was bound to be enough liquor to douse her wounds and her worries. And enough patriotism and chivalry to get her a ride into town.

  But just in case whoever was playing Sweet Home wasn’t a stand-up citizen, Piper picked a stick up and tested its ability to knock someone senseless. It didn’t break against the tree when she gave it her best swing. It would do. If her shoulder held. She rubbed her arm and pushed toward the music.

  “Okay, here goes.”

  She picked her way through the towering pines and over the increasingly rocky slope. What seemed an eternity brought her close enough to hear a new song fill the night. A beat she’d danced to with Sean a million times. It couldn’t be far.

  Another hundred yards, a lifetime...a moment, and she could hear the lyrics of the new song coming clearly through the night.

  To her left, the forest suddenly gave way to a wide path. Piper glanced up at the w
hite blaze that marked the crossing of the Appalachian trail and swallowed hard at the rush of relief. Then she ran, her heart pumping faster and faster, her body protesting every move.

  The blood on her head made its way to her lips, coppery and cold, but that didn’t matter. She was so close she could smell the cheap hot dogs roasting, see smoke rising, feel the heat of the campground. Thank God.

  She broke through the trees into a bald spot filled with gravel and cars and a crowd of people.

  Her eyes drifted to the brown and yellow sign that labeled the trail she’d just left, Aker’s Point. Before she could get her bearings or alert the campers to her presence, a scream drowned out the song. A scantily-clad girl had spotted her and dropped her glass bottle to crash and shatter at her feet. Suddenly, everyone’s eyes turned to her. Piper swallowed back the burn threatening to erase her voice. When the people crowded toward her, all at once rushing her with questions, she held up a silencing hand. “I need help...please.”

  She staggered forward, wiping at the new, warm blood oozing along her hairline. The effort of running had made her head pound harder. Now her heartbeat was slamming into her temples.

  The boy beside her who couldn’t have been old enough for the lager in his hand hurried to put his shoulder under her arm and waved his friend over to take her other side. “You been hurt bad? Someone hurt you?”

  Piper shook her head and immediately regretted the movement. She groaned. “No, it’s not that bad. I need someone to take me to 706 Circle Drive.”

  She had to get to Sean. What must he be thinking now?

  The kid didn’t seem to believe her. He gave her a sympathetic squeeze at her elbow and helped her sit on a nylon camping chair. “Here, lean back.”

  She wanted to say more, explain, but all she could do was repeat herself. It was the most important thing. Getting to him. Sean would fix everything. “706 Circle Drive. I need to get home.”

  “Ma’am, you okay?”

  The fire that was roasting the skewered hotdogs danced in blurry waves as she tried to focus her eyes. The world was not holding still.

  The boy’s voice came from far away, low and drawn out like her daddy’s drawl had been. She couldn’t figure it out. Whatever he was saying, she just nodded along, thinking instead of the pull of sleep and how good it felt to just close her eyes now.

  Don’t close your eyes. You know better. She snapped back to attention and struggled to focus.

  “Heeeeey, laaady,” the speaker’s face shimmied in front of her as his mouth moved on the last word she understood, “Ohhhhkaaay?”

  “Fine, just get me there, seven-oh-siih...”

  Don’t close—

  But she knew she was failing, free falling like the song said, and she gladly surrendered to the darkness.

  2

  Piper opened her eyes and found herself in the messy backseat of a car she didn’t remember climbing into with the taste of flat beer she didn’t recall drinking thickening her tongue.

  Oh, lord, she was drunk. Or concussive. She shook her head again. Pain would keep her awake. Pain would make her focus. She sat upright. Bad decision. The world practically bounced off its axis and gave her head the same jolt after jolt.

  “Oww. Where am I?”

  “Almost to Circle Drive, ma’am.”

  She remembered the face.

  The kid who’d had the lager up at the point turned almost fully around from the passenger seat. He drummed his fingers on the headrest. “You kinda passed out.”

  “So it seems.” Piper touched the blood now dried on her forehead and licked her lips. “Did I drink beer?”

  “Just a sip once when you came to. Said it would do something medicinal, not sure what you meant, but I never refuse a lady.” He tipped an imaginary hat and winked.

  She couldn’t help a brief grin. “I appreciate it. How far are we?”

  “From your house? You said 706, right? Right up here.”

  The car slowed to a stop at the curb. Piper scanned the dark street, for the first time seeing the landscape steady. But no cars were in the drive.

  Please let him be home.

  The kid caught her eye and turned to the driver. “We’ll wait here, won’t we Turtle? Let you get in safe.”

  The silent driver nodded and shifted into park.

  “Thank you, uh...” If he’d said his name, she didn’t remember. She started to ask when he smiled at her.

  “Oh, I’m Ben, they call me Rabbit and this here’s Turtle. Say hey, Turtle.” The driver threw up his hand and scrunched farther into the seat. Ben, Rabbit, grinned. “He don’t talk much. But he can drive like he’s qualifying. You need help?”

  “No, thanks, I can manage. Thank you, both.” She emerged from the car unsteady but grateful to be safe. Sean would take care of everything. He always did know what to do. He’d make it right.

  She held onto the porch railing for a moment to catch her breath and stop the spinning. Her head was rioting against her and encouraging her stomach to join in. A wave of nausea gripped her.

  She needed Sean.

  A few more steps and her fingers found the doorbell. She held it in, forcing its echo through the house, through the dark, through her pounding head. The ricocheting chimes filled her blood, rode her pulse until the light flooded on, and he was there.

  "Sean."

  His tall frame filled the door. She took in the dark jeans and bare feet, the wrinkled t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, the shocked look on his face. He moved from the door towards her, and she went straight into his arms, relief spreading over her in one huge crashing wave.

  "Sean. Oh, thank God.” Her legs wobbled, and she held onto him. “I was afraid you weren't home.”

  "Piper? It's three a.m. What are you doing here?" He glanced out into the street as the sound of a loudly mufflered car faded from the night around them.

  "I’m—" She rubbed at her head, pulling away dried pieces of blood. “I don’t remember where I was going. The eclipse… I don’t know...”

  Sean pulled away, his puzzled look becoming one of horror as his dark eyes took in her appearance, glancing from the head gash she knew was bleeding again to her cradled arm. "What happened? Where's your car?"

  "Don't know. I must’ve hit sss-something. Left it somewhere. Got a ride from the trail. Aker’s Point. Shouldn’t have had a beer. Just a kid." She closed her eyes against the porch light and the piercing percussion in her head and leaned into him. She was so cold and tired. If only she could sleep.

  "No, no, no. Wake up, Piper." That was Sean’s authority voice. It was strange being on the receiving end of that voice instead of playing the good cop to his bad one.

  "Don't have to yell." She opened her eyes and felt his loud exhale whoosh over her cheek. She smiled at the hint of his cinnamon toothpaste wafting to her nostrils. "I just need to lie down."

  "No. We're gonna get you to the hospital and check out that bump. Tell me what hurts."

  "Everything." Her strained neck muscles protested the dip as her heavy head fell forward and her chin touched her chest. She groaned, painfully awake.

  "Come on, Piper. Stay with me."

  "I am." Her gaze settled on her bloody hands. She touched her ring finger. A tear escaped to the corner of her mouth, mingling its salt with that coppery taste that wouldn't go away. "And I...I seem to have lost Nana's ring. Don't know where your car is. I just… had to run. There was someone, and I had to get to you. "

  "To me?" He was looking at her funny, his authority voice gone, his words slow and thick like he hadn't understood.

  Piper backed away. Something was wrong.

  Why hadn’t he taken her in his arms? Why was he not saying more? He was treating her like, like…a stranger.

  She met Sean’s eyes. What she didn’t see sent her jittery heart straight to her buckling knees.

  He caught her, almost dragging her inside, and flipped a switch somewhere, flooding the room with light that made her wince
. And then he was leading her to the sofa. A strange leather sofa.

  "Where's the couch?" Her world was spinning again. She felt her heart beating out of her riotous stomach. She’d gone hot and panicked with this new fear. She didn’t want to name what was missing in his gaze, didn’t want to acknowledge what she hadn’t heard in his words. Her throat felt closed off, and she struggled for a breath.

  "Right here. Let me get something for that gash."

  He let go, and she started to slide backward.

  "Piper?"

  He reached for her, and she stepped aside, bumping into a table that shouldn’t have been there. Her gaze settled on the living room wall. The pictures covering the expanse above the sofa were different somehow. Family pictures. His family. His restored Mustangs. His geriatric dog. But their engagement photo was gone.

  Tears welled up and spilled silently down to her trembling lips.

  Her gaze strayed to the mantle. No photos there and none of the possessions she'd started moving from her house. Her collection of milk glass, gone. Her books and old vinyls, gone. Her mother's clock, gone. All evidence of her, gone...

  Sean cast a glance at the mantle and winced too. Or did she imagine that?

  No, he looked pained when he held her gaze and spoke. "You have to trust me. I know you’re confused—"

  “Where are my things?” Her voice quavered. Piper held her head. Nothing was right.

  The drums picked up their tempo, crashing into her skull and vibrating along her spine. Strong hands gripped her arms.

  "I'm going to pick you up. Just relax."