Читать книгу Dying To Remember - Sara K. Parker - Страница 13
ОглавлениеThe car was gone. Ella Camden was sure of it.
She’d spent the better part of twenty minutes peering through the taxi’s back window just to be certain.
Somewhere amid Friday rush hour traffic between Route 97 and the Baltimore-Washington Parkway, the silver sedan that had been following her had disappeared.
“I don’t see it anymore,” she said into her cell phone, finally facing forward again and slumping against the seat.
“Don’t you dare have that driver turn around,” Autumn Simmons responded, her tone unusually serious.
That was exactly what Ella wanted to do, though: tell the cabdriver to forget it. Turn the car around and take her back to her mom’s house. She sank down lower in her seat, her grip tight on the phone. “I’m probably just being paranoid,” she said, echoing the words of her sisters, several coworkers, her doctors...everyone except Autumn. “My injury—”
“Don’t even go there.” Autumn cut her off. “No way you’ve imagined a silver car following you home three days in a row.”
Her friend’s words brought on an unsettling mixture of reassurance and fear. On the one hand, it was a relief to know that she had an ally who didn’t think she was losing her marbles. On the other hand, Autumn’s support meant that Ella could truly be in danger. If she was in danger, she needed help. There was only one place she could go for that, one person who might be able to figure things out—which was why she’d had the driver change course in the first place. But now she was having second thoughts.
“The office is probably closed,” she hedged, knowing full well she could simply make a phone call to find out.
“Look,” Autumn said, her voice urgent. “If you turn around, I’ll take myself up there right now and tell Roman DeHart you’re too chicken to face him, but you need his help.”
Autumn’s pushy nature was as much an annoyance as it was a confirmation that this was no time to take risks. Ella hadn’t realized how much she’d missed their friendship. She’d let distance and time do what they did best—water down old memories and fill the empty spaces with new ones.
“I’m not chicken.” Well, maybe a little. Though she’d never admit to it. “But what if this is all what the doctor’s been warning me about? Memory lapses. Confusion. Paranoia.” She touched the hat that covered her healing wound.
“Paranoia doesn’t explain what happened to Marilynn. Or your mom,” Autumn said.
“The police—”
Autumn cut in. “You know something’s going on.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know... What if I’m wrong?”
“What if you’re right?”
If Ella was right, then someone had tried to kill her last month and that same someone was looking for another opportunity. If she was right, her mother’s accident and Marilynn Rice’s death were somehow connected. After all, the two had been close friends and had worked together at Graceway, her mother’s nonprofit, for years.
No question about it. If Ella was right, she needed Roman’s help.
“Exactly,” Autumn said as if she’d read Ella’s thoughts in the empty silence. “Now, are you going to pay Roman a visit or am I?”
Ella wasn’t sure if she was ready to see Roman again after all these years and she didn’t like ultimatums. But she knew Autumn was right. She needed help, and Roman’s security company was the best place to turn.
She sighed into the phone. “I’ll do it.” Ending the call, she scanned the traffic outside her cab for the sedan once more.
Her stomach churned and she pressed a hand to her abdomen. The meds made her nauseous, but she’d keep taking them for now. Intermittent nausea was better than the explosive migraines that had been plaguing her for weeks. And at least her mood had stabilized. Her doctor had pushed an increase in the dosage of her Prozac, reminding her that her memory lapses may subside when her emotions were more regulated. But while the meds had helped with her anxiety, Ella knew she wasn’t depressed, and she certainly didn’t need more medicine.
She needed the truth. And she needed help.
Fear crawled along the back of her neck as she peered out the back window. Still no silver sedan. She was pretty certain it was a Toyota Camry, but the car had never been close enough for her to make out the driver. Ella faced forward again, watching as Baltimore’s Inner Harbor came into view, city lights glimmering against dark waters.
After-work traffic and icing roads didn’t seem to faze the taxi driver as he weaved through the city. Ella wanted to tell him to slow down. Maybe just turn around all together. It was after six on a Friday evening, after all. Roman had probably left the office by now.
She half hoped he had.
More than six years had passed since they’d parted ways. Six years since his sister’s murder had devastated them both and torn their relationship apart. She wondered if time had been kind to him. If he’d learned to smile again. To laugh.
If he’d gotten married, had kids.
She’d wondered for a long time, but it had been years since she’d tried to find out.
The car pulled over and slowed to a stop. She should have called, set up an appointment.
No turning back now.
Ella’s gaze traveled across the sidewalk and up the grand entrance where the Shield Protection logo was boldly printed above a set of mammoth mahogany doors.
A knot of regret tightened in her stomach. Roman and his dad had purchased the historic building together, Roman’s brothers joining in on the renovation in memory of their sister. Roman had sent Ella a personal invitation to the grand opening four years ago, which she had initially declined. She had started a new life for herself in Colorado, and she knew that seeing Roman again would threaten the progress she had made toward putting the past behind her.
Only, at the last minute, she’d hopped on a plane, telling herself she owed the DeHart family her support—and convincing herself that the trip would bring closure. She had never been so wrong in her life. No sooner had she stepped out of her rental car that afternoon than she’d spotted Roman hand in hand with a striking redhead. Maybe Ella shouldn’t have been surprised or hurt that he had moved on, but she simply hadn’t been able to face him, so she’d left the event before anyone had even realized she was there.
“You all set?” the driver asked, watching her in the rearview mirror.
“Yes, could you wait here?” she asked as she pushed the door open. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be...”
He shrugged. “Meter’s running.”
She didn’t care. It was freezing outside—unseasonably so for Maryland in November—and she didn’t relish the idea of standing at the curb trying to flag down another taxi when she was ready to head back to her childhood home in Annapolis. Especially when the stranger in the silver car could reappear at any moment.
She opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, taking a quick look up and down the street. She still didn’t see any sign of that car. Pushing aside self-doubt, she lowered her head against the bitter wind and carefully navigated the salted but still ice-slick steps of Shield.
She grabbed hold of the wrought-iron railing with a gloved hand. Six steps up and she was standing at the doors reading the posted sign that they closed at 5:30 p.m. Disappointment warred with relief. The silver car was gone for now and at least she could truthfully tell Autumn she’d attempted to see Roman.
She pressed the doorbell anyway, just to be sure. Waited a couple of seconds and turned toward the cab. She would call in the morning to make an appointment.
She’d only taken two steps when she heard a voice as familiar as her own heartbeat.
“May I help you?”
Her heart jolted and she turned to the doors, peering up at the security camera.
“Sorry,” she said. “I know you’re closed...”
“Ella? Is that you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m buzzing you in. Take the elevator up to the fifth floor. I’ll wait for you there.”
A clicking noise sounded and Ella reached for the door, pulling it open and stepping inside.
She removed her gloves and tucked them into her purse, then tugged at the edges of her cap to make sure it was secure.
A reception desk sat empty, its black granite shiny and clean. Ella’s boots squeaked along the hardwood floors as she made her way to the elevator.
Inside, she pressed the number five and clenched her hands together as she ascended. Five floors were all that stood between Ella and the man she’d spent the last several years learning to live without.
Five floors and five million heartbeats.
The doors slid open and there he stood, wearing a sharp suit and a warm smile—a devastating combination that stole her breath. Ella exited the elevator, stopping just short of stepping into his arms. She shoved her hands into her coat pockets.
“Ella,” he said, his voice all low and smooth like it had always been, his eyes searching hers. “It’s been a long time.”
She nodded. “Six years.” And five months and a handful of days. He looked every bit the man she’d known—only since she’d last caught a glimpse of him he’d shaved off his goatee and bulked up at the gym.
Her gaze darted around him and down a hallway with glass doors and gleaming wood.
He touched her arm and warmth seeped through the wool of her coat.
“Are you okay?”
Ella drew a shaky breath and looked into eyes that had always been able to read her heart.
“I don’t think so, Roman. I need your help.”
His eyes narrowed and he gestured down the hall. “Let’s go to my office.”
* * *
Ella Camden was the last person Roman had expected to see when he’d heard the doorbell moments ago. A new client in need of help, maybe. Someone looking for work, likely. Ella, the woman he’d never stopped loving? Not even on his radar.
Her boots tread quietly along the hallway behind him and he opened the door to his office, letting her pass through first. She’d cut her hair. Coppery brown barely peeked out below the light gray knit cap she wore. She kept her hands in the pockets of a black winter coat and didn’t meet his eyes as she entered.
“What a view,” she said, moving to the floor-to-ceiling windows in his office.
The dismal gray evening had grown darker, but the harbor beyond Roman’s office was lit up and bustling with Friday nightlife.
“What you’ve built here is amazing, Roman,” Ella said, turning back toward the office and absently plucking a business card from the holder on his desk. She traced a thumb over the print, her gaze unreadable.
She seemed genuinely impressed and Roman almost asked why she’d waited so long to come see it for herself. But this meeting wasn’t about them. “I had a lot of help,” he said instead, waiting for her to explain why she’d come.
She was too skinny. Even with the bulky winter coat he could see that. Her eyes hadn’t changed, though, their soft green-gray pulling him into memories long tucked away. And better kept there, he reminded himself. He’d spent years burying those memories under a relentless workload that didn’t leave room for regret. But coming face-to-face with Ella brought it all screaming back.
“Want to have a seat?” He moved to his chair, pushing aside his closed laptop. He’d just been packing up to head home when Ella had arrived. But he wasn’t in a rush. The only thing waiting for him at home was a fridge full of leftover takeout and his niece’s lop-eared bunny he’d gotten stuck babysitting.
“Thanks.” She took the seat opposite his, tucking his business card into her purse. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
Her eyes brimmed tears that she didn’t let fall.
Roman’s heart constricted. Years ago, he would have pulled her into his arms, but they didn’t know each other anymore.
“Here.” He stood and reached over to the bookcase for a box of tissues, passing them to her. “Why don’t I put on a pot of coffee? We’ll get you warmed up. Take your time.”
She shook her head, accepting the box of tissues but not pulling one out. “No, I don’t want to keep you any longer than necessary.”
“We can take as long as you need.”
“That’s nice of you to say, but we both know it’s late on a Friday and you’re probably ready to get home,” Ella started. “It’s been all these years, and the first time I see you, I’m asking for help.”
“How about you tell me what’s going on and we can decide that together?”
She nodded, weariness in her expression. “I don’t really know where to start, but I think I’m being followed.”
“By who?”
“I wish I knew.” She tugged her cap more snugly over her ears. Why didn’t she take it off? She couldn’t still be cold. It was a thousand degrees in the office.
Or maybe it was just him. Roman loosened his tie.
“So, you’re here because you want me to find out?” he asked.
She smiled half-heartedly. “It’s complicated.”
Nervous. He’d never known her to be nervous.
He waited.
“My mom’s in the hospital,” she said finally. “In a coma.”
“My dad told me,” Roman said. “Terrible accident. I’m so sorry, Ella. Is there any improvement?”
Ella shook her head. “That’s why I came out here. I took a leave of absence from my clinic.”
When she’d left to pursue veterinary school in Colorado, she’d had a singular mission: to finish school and then buy her own practice in the mountains. She’d obviously accomplished her goal. Roman had never doubted she would.
“What about your sisters? Have they been able to help, too?”
“Yes, but Bethany has three kids now, so time away is hard to come by. Holly was able to get leave for a few weeks, but she’s back overseas at least until May. Even if we could all be here more often, Graceway can’t function without my mom.”
Two years after Ella’s dad had left the picture, her mother had single-handedly opened the women’s shelter. Even though she employed a substantial staff, she’d always been the one at the helm, making all the decisions.
“How long have you been out here?”
“About five weeks.” She leaned forward, eyes locked on his. “But I don’t remember all of it because three weeks ago, I wound up in the hospital with a...brain injury.”
Roman straightened, his gaze catching on her knit cap.
“I was shot. And everyone’s telling me I did it,” she said, the words rushing together.
“You did what?”
“Shot myself.”
“Tried to commit suicide?” The words didn’t fit right in his mouth. Ella, suicidal?
She nodded.
“The thing is, I really don’t think I did.”
“But others think you did?” he prodded. “Who?”
“The police. The doctors. Even my family.”
“You don’t remember the incident?”
She shook her head. “I don’t remember anything about it. I don’t remember much about the weeks before, either. The doctors think my memories will come back over time.”
“What did the police find?”
“From what they could figure out, I was shot—or shot myself—sitting up in bed. The trajectory was off, so the bullet only grazed the side of my head. I fell sideways and cracked my head on the edge of the nightstand before I ended up on the floor.”
“The trajectory was off?” Roman asked. Possible in an attempted suicide, if she’d been waffling on her decision.
Ella shrugged. “That’s what I’ve been told. Holly had just pulled up to the house and gotten out of her car when she heard the gunshot and came running. I was on the floor, blood everywhere.”
“Even your sister thinks you were trying to kill yourself?”
Ella nodded, her lips set in a grim line. “My fingerprints were on the gun. Gunpowder on my hand.”
The evidence definitely suggested a suicide attempt, but Roman didn’t point out the obvious. “Do the police have any other suspects?”
Her gaze dropped to her lap. “No. They’ve closed the case. It happened at my mom’s house. No signs of forced entry. No signs of a struggle.” She looked up at him again. “And I supposedly typed a note and left it open on my laptop before I...” Her voice trailed off.
He considered the story for a moment. No wonder the case had been closed. “If someone had tried to kill you and make it look like a suicide, he would have had to get out of the house fast since your sister showed up right as you were shot.”
“My room is at the end of the hall near the garage. It’s possible.”
Maybe. He remembered the layout of the house, though, and it wouldn’t have taken her sister more than a minute to unlock the door and run down the hall to Ella’s room.
“Who would want to kill you, Ella?”
“I have no idea,” she responded.
“What you’re thinking happened, though...it’s not a random act. There’d have to be motive. Personal motive.”
He thought for a moment. After his sister Brooklyn’s death, Ella had gone into a deep depression. It was no secret, as her mother had reached out to friends and the church for prayers and help.
“Could it be someone from the past? Someone who knew you had struggled with depression?” he asked.
“I really don’t know, Roman,” she said, frustration deepening the lines along her forehead.
“Okay.” Roman softened his tone. “But if you don’t remember the incident, how do you know someone else did this?”
“Because I know I didn’t,” she said simply.
Roman saw conviction in her eyes. Knew she believed what she was saying. But he didn’t know what to make of it all.
“You don’t believe me.” Her words were as cold as the air outside, but she couldn’t hide the hurt that flashed in her eyes.
“I do believe you.” At least, he believed she was in trouble. If someone was after Ella, then Roman needed to help her. If not...if she was suffering some kind of mental illness, he still needed to help her. “Tell me more about who’s following you.”
She stood abruptly and Roman did, too. Her nose had pinkened, her eyes shining with unshed tears again. “Sorry. Just... I need to use the restroom.” She glanced around in question.
“It’s down the hall from the elevator, back the way we came.”
She nodded. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Roman sat, drummed his fingers on his desk. Uneasy. That’s how he felt. Ella was acting all wrong. He watched the clock as a full minute ticked by. Then he heard the distinct ding of the elevator.
He jumped up and ran out of his office to the reception area beyond, checking the surveillance monitors. He caught a glimpse of Ella’s coat as the elevator doors slid shut behind her.
Planting his palms on the desk, he watched the downstairs lobby on the monitor. The elevator opened and Ella ran for the exit as if she was being chased. Roman frowned as he watched her hurry along slippery stairs to the sidewalk and the waiting cab at the curb. He didn’t know what Ella was running from, but he wasn’t about to let her run alone. He’d done that years ago and he’d never forgiven himself.
* * *
Ella’s hands trembled in her lap. It had happened again. The sudden bout of confusion. One moment she was sitting across from Roman having a conversation and the next she was overcome by confusion, her mind racing with questions. Why was she with Roman? What were they even talking about?
Like she’d done at Graceway each day, she’d excused herself to the bathroom. There, she would calm the rising panic, try to ascertain reality, and then get back to whatever she’d been doing.
But on the way to the restroom tonight, panic had risen like a pot boiling over. She knew it was happening but couldn’t head it off. She wasn’t thinking about Roman or the silver car or why exactly she was running. She just ran.
Ella peered through the back window. It was too dark to differentiate car colors. If she was being followed, she’d never know it. Her mind raced in time with her heart, her head throbbing from exertion.
She pulled Roman’s business card from her purse, texting him a lame excuse and promising to call in the morning. Then she shut down the phone. He’d try to call her, and she couldn’t handle that just yet.
What if she was going crazy?
She’d read about things like this. One day you’re perfectly normal and the next you’re caught up in some sort of mysterious psychosis.
But, no. The confusion had been getting better, just like the doctors said it would. As soon as the taxi had pulled away from Shield, Ella had been struck with total clarity on what she’d just run from: Roman and her plea for him to help her. In the past weeks, it had often taken her a couple of hours to regain clarity over what she’d been doing before the lapse.
The taxi slowed around the corner and pulled up in front of her mom’s tired 1940s home. She’d had the Cape-Cod-style house repainted in recent years, a deep grayish blue she’d said was peaceful. Tonight, it looked dull and foreboding. Even the gentle glow of the streetlamps and porch light didn’t brighten up the home. Guilt reared up as Ella paid the driver and stepped out into the frigid night. Mom’s garden beds along the porch were untidy and the big maple needed a trim before a storm came and knocked it onto the house.
She fished out her keys and unlocked the front door, casting a quick glance behind her as the taxi pulled away. The street was dark and empty, no lurking silver Camry anywhere in sight. Still, fear clawed at the edge of her mind. Paranoia, she reminded herself. She stepped inside quickly, shut the door and locked up.
She set her purse on the console table near the front door, then unzipped her boots and hung her coat and hat in the tidy foyer closet. Turning on lights as she walked toward the living room, she leaned over the couch and patted Isaac’s soft head.
“Hey, bud,” she said to her mom’s dog, sidling past the couch to grab the television remote. Isaac looked up from the living room couch, but didn’t actually move a single limb in greeting. His peaceful quiet put Ella at ease, warmth rushing over her as the comforting sounds from the television filled the room. She hated the silence in the house, but as long as Isaac was content on the couch, she could be sure she was alone. He was a funny old guy, about the size of a basketball and almost as round. He was also perpetually silent, unless he met a stranger. She flipped on the news and set the remote on the coffee table. Her gaze passed over the book an acquaintance at church had brought her and she rolled her eyes.
The Prodigal Son Returns wasn’t Ella’s choice reading material. She figured there was a hint somewhere in the gift—a quiet reminder that Ella had been gone too long when her mom had needed her most. Shoving the guilt aside, she moved into the kitchen.
She plunked her keys down on the gray-blue Corian countertop and opened the small cabinet next to the fridge. It was packed with a hodgepodge of cooking spices, along with a stockpile of her mom’s medications. Ella grabbed a bottle of aspirin, her gaze catching on the sleep meds she’d quit cold turkey as soon as she’d been released from the hospital. She’d been taking the pills regularly for years, and she was convinced their effectiveness was one of the reasons she hadn’t woken to the intruder the night she’d been shot. She pressed the cabinet shut, frustrated. She wouldn’t get much sleep tonight. Again. But she’d rather be sleep-deprived than dead. She opened the fridge and peered inside.
She was down to the last bottle of iced tea. She’d have to hit the store tomorrow. Her hand closed around the bottle just as a swish of movement whispered behind her.
Ella gasped as an arm snaked around her middle, dragging her back from the fridge, her feet falling out from under her. She screamed, the iced tea crashing to the floor, her hands prying at the strong arm subduing her.
A sharp sting lanced her upper arm and this time her scream was soundless as she desperately tried to twist away. She registered everything in slow motion, it seemed. A syringe in her periphery, held by a black-gloved hand. Isaac whining at her feet, his tiny claws clicking on the tiled floor as he followed the scene. Futilely, she tugged at the arm dragging her across the kitchen. But her limbs felt loose, her strength ebbing.
Her heart was beating erratically, her hands tingling and numbing, dropping away involuntarily from the arm that was holding her. She tried again to scream, but nothing happened. The house was spinning. Or was she? Nausea roiled in her gut. Panic swirled in her mind. She needed to escape.
But first, she needed to sleep.
