by Jaycee Clark
Jesslyn didn’t know what Aiden was so worried about. Okay, so maybe she did. She’d taken, as he had told her, at least ten years off his life.
“Ms. Black, did you hear me?” Agent Litton asked.
With a shake of her head, Jesslyn sighed. “Sorry, no I didn’t.” The man was of medium height, much shorter than Aiden, and in fact shorter than his partner, Agent Jones, who was a tall woman. Dark sandy hair matched the tawny color of his sharp eyes. His features were normal, nothing to notice or draw attention. Jesslyn figured that was a plus in his line of work.
His smile was one of patience, yet one of understanding all the same. “The Colorado Bureau of Investigation is helping in this crime. Chief Garrison called us in to assist with the investigation. We realize it must be difficult for you not to know what happened, and yet we’re pounding you with questions. The fact is, any information you could give us would be greatly appreciated.”
Jesslyn met his stare, silence stretched between them. “And what is it you think I’ve been doing? Knitting?” She regretted her snapped comment. “Look, I realize this is your job and must, at times like this, be incredibly frustrating, or it would be to me. In any case, I will do what I can to help, though I don’t know what I can do.” Jesslyn sighed. A headache throbbed behind her eyes, not that she’d ever gotten rid of the thing since she’d awakened in the hospital.
Agent Jones walked to the desk and sat on the front corner facing Jesslyn. Jones had to have Vikings in her family lineage. The woman was six feet tall in flat, practical shoes. Silvery blond hair weaved in a French braid and her sky blue eyes sat perfectly above broad cheek bones. Where Litton was your average Joe, Jones was a breathtaking goddess. Though her aura appeared icy, reserved and distant, she was the more approachable of the two.
“Why don’t you tell us what you can remember? Anything at all. Maybe that would help.” Her voice was crystalline, soft for such a large woman.
“Yes, I’ll do that. Aiden, sit down, please. You’re making me edgy.” She patted his hand on her shoulder.
He walked to her side and sat back down in the chair he’d vacated earlier. He leaned back and reached towards her with his hand. She grasped it. The look in his eyes was anything but calm. She gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand to reassure him.
Jesslyn took a deep breath, then let it out. “I remember bits, more feelings and emotions than any actual events.” The unknown ate at her. She was a control freak. Always liked to know what was going on, when it happened, how it happened, why. Not a single one of those questions was answerable.
Tentatively she said, “Sometimes, like an immediate flash, a thought or feeling shoots through my mind. But most are like smoke. The harder I try, the more elusive the images become.”
Everything she’d found on the cyberspace gateway of knowledge said basically the same thing. There were no guarantees of when or if lost memories would return. Many people simply remembered, others had something trigger the locked box of their minds and yet others had never regained access to lost hours, weeks, years . . . The stories had been endless and had made her eyes cross. She knew she shouldn’t complain, at least she remembered something, and for that small amount of knowledge she was thankful. And she was alive.
“I remember fear. That’s always there,” she whispered. Aiden’s hand on hers tightened. “I remember rain and lightning, thunder and storms.”
She narrowed her eyes, not seeing the occupants in the room, just a fog-filled area of her mind, where upon occasion, the mists would part and allow her a quick glimpse of what lay beyond.
“I remember being cold. So very, very cold, like ice water flowed instead of blood.” She shivered. Ever since the attack, she couldn’t get warm. Aiden’s thumb absently rubbed to and fro on the back of her hand.
“Maybe the tape will help,” Garrison said. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Aiden’s head turn sharply.
“Tape?” she asked, looking from one to the other.
“What tape?” Aiden asked.
Garrison cleared his throat and laced his fingers together on top of his desk, leaning up on his elbows. “You know your phone was found. Do you remember having your phone?”
Her phone? What did that have to do . . . “Are you telling me you have the dispatch tape of my call?” That made sense. Of course they did.
“Yes.” Garrison’s brow furrowed. “You called nine-one-one.”
If there was a tape, maybe it would jar her memory.
Garrison started to say something, and Aiden’s hand tightened on hers. Jones spoke, “Do you want to listen to it?”
Jesslyn thought for a minute, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean what’s . . .”
“I don’t know if that is the wisest course,” Aiden bit out.
She turned to him, then back to the three law officials.
“It might help, right? What did I say on it?” she asked them.
Then the mists parted, sucked her back. Fear exploded as she remembered running, praying for her phone not to screw up as she tried to dial nine-one-one. Slick mud pulled at her feet.
Thunder echoed in her mind, as she tried to grab the wet fender. Hurry. Have to hurry. She’s dead. Dead . . . Dead . . .
Jesslyn felt Aiden’s hand on hers, as she tried to catch her breath. Even as she tried to hold on to the terrifying image, it faded.
A chill prickled the skin on her arms. She blinked and brought everyone back into focus.
“What?” Aiden quietly asked. Jesslyn could see the anger simmering in the blue flames of his eyes, and she knew it wasn’t at her, but for her.
She took a breath. “Nothing much really. I remember dialing my phone, and running back to the Jeep. I know I was afraid the phone had screwed up. It was raining—yeah, it was. I slipped in the mud as I rounded the back fender.” Jesslyn thought for a minute more. “I remember thinking she was dead.” Once again she tried, closed her eyes, and concentrated on what she had just seen. “Yeah, I remember thinking she’s dead.” She opened her eyes, blew out a breath and shook her head. “That’s all. That’s—that’s it.”
Damn it, this was so frustrating. Why couldn’t she remember?
“It’s all right. That was good. Really good,” Jones said in her calm voice. Her expression turned thoughtful, then, finally she continued. “You know, I agree with Chief Garrison. I think the tape might help, but it’s your choice.”
Jesslyn looked at Aiden. A muscle bunched in his jaw, and he was entirely too still. He reminded Jesslyn of a wild cat of prey getting ready to spring.
“Fine,” she agreed. “Let’s get this done.”
Litton walked out the office.
Cobalt eyes narrowed at her beneath black brows. “You don’t have to do this. The neurosurgeon said not to push yourself too hard and—”
“Yes, Aiden, I do have to do this. For myself. For Tammy. For Maddy. I can’t stand the not knowing,” she admitted to him. It was the first time she’d said as much about her memory lapse bothering her. “And I’ll stop if it gets to be too much.”
His sigh was one of resignation. Litton came back in with a mini-recorder, which he set on the desk.
Jesslyn stared at it and looked over at Aiden. He ground his back teeth, his strong jaw moving back and forth.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. His hand on hers tightened almost painfully. The muscle in his jaw quirked. His eyes burned into hers. “I don’t want you going through this again.”
She tilted her head to him. “I’ll be okay. You’re here.”
Yeah, Aiden thought, he was here for all the damn good it was doing. Aiden raked a hand through his hair. He wanted to take her home and get her the hell out of here and away from all this.
Jessie took a deep breath and nodded to Garrison. Her voice filled the room.
“Hello?”
“Nine-one-one dispatch, what’s the emergency?”
“Hello? Please, help me. I’m at Emerald Lake!
He’s here . . .”
“Ma’am, who’s there? Are you in danger?”
Aiden’s heart took a deep breath and he gripped the armrest.
Shambling sounds as though the phone was jostled.
“Shit. My keys. My keys are gone. Oh, God. Oh, God.” Her panicked words chilled him. He stared at the recorder that shot arrows into his soul.
“Ma’am, calm down. Who’s there with you?” the dispatcher’s voice asked.
“I don’t know who the hell he is. But she’s, oh God, she’s dead. Please, help me.”
“Looking for these?” A new voice said from the background. Aiden fisted his hand as Jessie’s scream tore through him and around the room.
Shuffling noises muffled in silence.
Then panting, puffing as though someone were running. Thunder crackled through the small office, the rhythmic pound of something. Feet?
“Ma’am?”
She was running—trying to get away. Aiden’s blood froze at what he was hearing.
Someone gasped. Thunk. The silence stretched.
“No!” she screamed.
A black cloud roiled and built within him. Her terror bit at him.
More scuffles and scampering sounds filled the air.
Another piercing cry shot through him. Oh. My. God.
“Ma’am?” the dispatcher tried.
“Please,” Jessie whimpered.
At the terrified sound, something in him roared.
“Bitch. You’re no different than the rest of them, are you?” A low graveled voice grated out. “I ought to cut your throat for that.”
“Ma’am! Ma’am!” the dispatcher yelled.
Silence.
“Jesus Christ,” Aiden muttered. He looked at Jessie. She was white as a sheet and he didn’t know who held whose hand tighter.
He bit down, felt the muscle in his jaw bunch. Jessie’s eyes were closed and her fisted hand was white knuckled. This had been a bad idea. A very bad idea.
“Jessie?”
She shook her head.
The words jumbled through her mind as though trying to find their place in a scattered puzzle. Bouncing and jarring against what she knew and what she didn’t.
“Looking for these?” The voice tugged at her, made her blood freeze in her veins. Her own scream seemed to plead with her.
Jesslyn sat frozen in place while the short message played out.
“ . . . I ought to cut your throat for that.”
Cut your throat . . . Cut your throat . . .
It was so damn close! Jesslyn felt like screaming. She started to tremble, and she stiffened to try and keep under control.
“Again,” she said, barely a whisper, but commanded all the same.
“Jesslyn,” Aiden said, his voice barely containing the fury she felt coming from him.
She ignored him, but squeezed his hand even tighter than she already was.
This time, she was prepared. Jesslyn closed her eyes, let the words fall where they would, concentrated on the noises, the sounds. Slowly, images, forms and shapes drew together.
Lightning flashed all around. The thunder ripped the air apart.
Hurry. Had to hurry. Coming, the monster’s coming.
Jesslyn’s chest tightened, her breath came quicker.
Scuffling noises.
“ . . . throat for that.”
Her hand flew to her neck. Fingered the small scabbed slice across the column. Death above. Flashlight. Cold. The knife was so cold, stinging where it cut.
Just as quickly the vision was gone.
Her hand trembled in Aiden’s.
“What did you mean, death above?” Jones asked.
Only then did she realize she’d spoken out loud.
She took a deep breath, tried to calm her jittering nerves. She thought about the question, what she had seen. “Like—um . . .” She swallowed, attempting to ease the dryness of her throat. “Pictures of the Grim Reaper. A dark hooded figure above me.”
“Above you? As in taller than you?” Jones continued in smooth even tones.
Jesslyn shook her head. “No, I-I don’t think so.” She thought about what she’d seen. “No, I-I was on the ground. On my back and he was . . . He was over me.”
A shudder racked her body, even as she tried to hold it in.
“Anything else?” Jones’s foot moved slowly back and forth.
The headache was full blown now. Jesslyn pinched the bridge of her nose, tried to come up with something that would help. Finally, she shook her head.
“No, I’m sorry. There’s really nothing else. Scattered thoughts about hurrying, that feeling that someone is coming right behind you. But that’s it.” She knew bitterness crept into her voice at the end.
“Any features? Anything about him you remember?”
Jesslyn shook her head.
“What about his voice? Any accents?”
“American.” She grinned ruefully, but thought. “It wasn’t Southern, or Texan, no thick Bronx or New Jersey.” She shrugged. “You heard the tape. He just sounded . . . normal.”
Jones leaned forward and patted Jesslyn on the shoulder. “You did really well. I’ve worked cases before where there was head trauma and the victim never remembers. The fact that you are already is a good sign. Just be patient.”
Victim. Jesslyn hated to be victim.
“One more question, Ms. Black. Do you remember being in the car?” Litton asked.
Jesslyn sighed. Car? “What car?”
They all looked at Aiden, then back to her.
“It was in the paper,” Jones added.
She shook her head. “I haven’t been interested in the paper.”
Garrison cleared his throat. “We found Tammy’s car at the bottom of the lake. You were holding a bracelet, presumably one of hers, as it was similar to the ones she was wearing.”
Jesslyn thought for a minute, the pain in her head tensing her neck muscles. Nothing. “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know,” she sighed.
“I think that’s enough for today, Ms. Black. If you feel up to it, can we talk again tomorrow? A bit of time might jar something else.” Jones was obviously the spokeswoman of the two agents.
Jesslyn nodded. “Sure, that’s fine. What time?”
“Same as today?”
She looked at Aiden. He merely raised his brows and shrugged. “Up to you.”
Once again, she nodded to the law enforcement officials in the room and got up. Aiden pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head.
Garrison spoke, “Jess, we can do this at the house if you’d feel more comfortable.”
Aiden shook his head and pinned the chief with what could only be construed as a glare. “No. We’ll be here.” Without another word to anyone, he steered her out of the police station and to her pickup.
After Jesslyn was settled, he went around to get in the driver’s door. She leaned her pounding head back against the seat and prayed the nausea would ease back. God her head hurt.
The driver’s door opened and Aiden slid behind the wheel.
He studied Jessie. She looked so pale and small. He’d wanted nothing more than to pack her up and get her the hell out of here. As long as he lived, Aiden would never remember that night or what she’d gone through without terror stabbing his heart.
His Jessie, so brave, so strong, and so frightened. Aiden hadn’t protected her from the monsters, couldn’t even keep her safe during sleep. She awoke every night in terror and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Nor could he take away her terror. Proud Jessie tried to hide that from him, but he knew, saw the fear in her, noticed she never stepped foot out of the house by herself. Not that he’d let her. Normally, she would balk at that, and she hadn’t muttered a single word.
This was killing him. He wanted to do something.
Aiden lifted a hand and slid his fingers beneath her hair to her neck. He traced the pulse from her jaw to her collarbone with his t
humb. The damn tape and her whispered memories filled him with rage. Just a little deeper and the bastard would have . . . That didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now, but Jesslyn.
He swallowed the fury, or tried to. “You okay?”
She opened her eyes and turned her head on the seat. He drifted his thumb along her jaw to the corner of her mouth.
She gave him a small smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just frustrating and infuriating that I can’t remember. I’m so close. It’s like when a song’s been stuck in your head, just a chorus or a few lines, and then when you want to remember it, you can’t, but you know you should. Does that make sense?” Her brow wrinkled.
“Yes. I’m with Jones, just be patient. Don’t push it.” She was pale and he could see the pain of a headache in her eyes. “And I think you pushed it too much today already.”
Damn it. He never should have agreed on them coming today, regardless of who the hell she wanted to help. He hated to see her this vulnerable. Rage and fury roared within him, pounding in his veins, demanding to be released. He wanted to hit something, and hit it hard.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The red haze receded. Opening his eyes, he saw she was staring into space. For the longest time she didn’t say anything, yet he knew her well enough to know by the look in her tired eyes that she was building up to it. Jessie had been so quiet lately.
She cleared her throat. He didn’t take his hand away from her neck, just kept up the light caress.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“What?” he asked. What the hell was this? “What are you apologizing for?”
“For not staying that night with you and working it out. For worrying you. For doubting for a minute what we had. For thinking you might have lied to me about the Brice thing.”
“You can be so stupid sometimes,” he whispered.
Her eyes narrowed on his and he knew she was thinking about denying it, but then the lie cleared and she murmured so softly he had to lean close to hear her. “I had planned to end it that night with you, which you already know, but when I heard your father thought you were engaged, something in me just got mad. Something else just cracked because I thought you’d lied to me. That I could have been the other woman. And, you’re right, I’m stupid sometimes.”