Remember Love: Saints Protection & Investigations

by Maryann Jordan

  Standing, legs apart, hands on hips, Blaise noted the others grinning at him. “What?” he asked testily. “I’m gonna keep her safe at all costs.”

  “Watch your heart, man,” Bart laughed. “You put that medallion around her neck and she’s claimed.”

  Grinning back, Blaise nodded. “Damn straight!”

  *

  Sitting in Blaise’s living room an hour later, Grace clutched his hand as Marc questioned her. Jude used his tablet to map out what she remembered and Patrick, still learning some of the finer points of investigating, watched and listened carefully.

  “I remember, when I crawled out of the car, I heard water. When I looked down the hill, I could see a fairly large creek. The car had come down the ravine and stopped when it finally hit several trees. Um…” she stopped and rubbed her head.

  “You’re doing fine, babe,” Blaise encouraged, receiving a small smile.

  “I climbed up…I can’t tell you how long it took me, but I’d say at least thirty minutes because I had to stop every couple of feet. My head was no longer bleeding, but it hurt really badly. Gypsy stayed with me and a couple of times, she allowed me to grab her as she pulled me forward.”

  “Tell us about the road when you got to the top. Was it two lane, four lane, gravel, paved blacktopped, have lines painted, straight, curvy…anything you can think of,” Marc queried.

  “Um…it was two lanes. But there was shoulder space on each side so it wasn’t too narrow. I stood there for a while before I started walking downhill. The trucker came fairly soon after that. Um…let’s see…it was paved…blacktop and not recently. It had lines painted, but again not recently because they were sort of worn. There were curves and,” she looked up suddenly and said, “there were no guardrails. Why would there be no guardrails?”

  “There are supposed to be guardrails, but some lesser-used roads are susceptible to them being missing or in disrepair and I don’t know how often they’re checked,” Marc answered.

  “What can you tell us about the area around the road?” Jude asked.

  “It was heavily wooded. When the trucker picked me up, we drove down the mountain about ten minutes before we passed any buildings.”

  “Do you remember the buildings?” Patrick asked excitedly.

  Scrunching her forehead and then wincing in pain, she added, “An old building. Like it used to be a gas station way back in time. Bob’s…or Bill’s…or something like that.”

  Jude immediately began entering in the information and within a few minutes, said, “We may have a location. On State Road 842, part of it cuts near the Skyline Parkway. It’s wooded, curvy, and there’s a Rob’s Gas & Groceries. Obviously no website, but it could be our place. If we assume the trucker was going about 40 miles per hour down the curvy road, that gives us an approximate place to locate her car.”

  Grace glanced up at Blaise to see him smiling—grimly. I wonder if that’s a good look or an unhappy look. He looked down at her, seeing her brow crinkle in confusion.

  “Sorry, babe. This is good news. Marc, Jude, and Patrick will head up there and begin a search.”

  “Would it help to have Gypsy with you? I could go as well.”

  “No way am I having you out there in the woods,” Blaise argued, before conceding, “But a dog is a possibility. I’ve got a friend with a good tracker dog. It may have been too long and the scent is gone, but I’m willing to take that chance. Can I have your backpack? It’s got your scent and Gypsy’s scent on it.”

  She walked from the room to retrieve the bag and Blaise immediately placed a call. By the time she returned, he explained, “It’s all arranged. The Saints will take a tracker and his hound with them.”

  A few minutes later, the trio left, leaving Grace standing in the living room, worrying her bottom lip. As Blaise walked in, he observed her nervousness. Pulling her into his embrace, he kissed the top of her head. “We know what we’re doing. We’ll find the answers.”

  “Somehow, I know you will,” she replied, her hand resting on his chest, leaning her head back to see his face. “I guess it’s just the answers I’m now afraid of more than the unknown.”

  “I found out more about your parents toda—”

  “I want to know,” she blurted, her eyes wide and piercing.

  Leading her to the sofa once more, he sat on the coffee table with his knees on either side of hers, his body a shield. Taking her hands in his, he said, “I only know the basics…but you were brought up, as you know…an only child, on a small farm. After you left for college, your parents sold the farm and moved to a small house in the suburbs of Richland. A couple of years ago they were out when an ice storm hit and they slid on icy roads and were killed together.”

  He said no more, observing her carefully for signs of distress. She simply nodded and released a long sigh, but no words were forthcoming.

  “I know you feel lost, but I’ve got something for you.” He reached inside of his shirt and pulled out the saint medallion, slipping it over his head. As she watched with questions in her eyes, he then slid the chain over her neck. “This is my Saint Blaise pendant,” he said. “St. Blaise was the healer of animals in the fourth century. Legend states that animals would come to him, on their own, and he would heal them. The stories also say that the animals would assist him in his work.”

  Eyes wide she peered down at the pendant in her hand, as he continued. “I thought it made sense to give this to you. I can’t give you back your family, but I want you to know you have me. You and Gypsy came to me…on your own…and she assists you. Somehow it kinda works.”

  Lifting her gaze, she smiled at him, touched beyond measure how much his words filled her soul. Blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay, she breathed deeply through her nose before letting it out slowly.

  “There’s more,” Blaise continued, his fingers flipping the silver medallion over. “On the back, Luke has attached a tracer. If you are ever lost again, we can find where you are. The other Saints have given their pendants to their women and the tracers have come in handy. I pray we never have to use it, but I hope you’ll wear the necklace for me.”

  Swallowing hard, she admitted, “I…I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say ‘yes’ to wearing it. It’ll give me peace of mind knowing that I can always find you.” Scooting closer, he brought his hands up to her face, cupping her cheeks. “And,” he added, “I’d be honored for you to wear my Saint.”

  Smiling through her tears, she nodded. “Yes, Blaise, I’ll gladly wear your Saint. Proudly.” Silently, she added, With all my heart.

  Chapter 11

  Grace held her body rigid as the doctor, with a grey, military haircut, examined her forehead. His manner implied gruffness, but she was beginning to see that it was all a bluff. His fingers were gentle as they probed the injury.

  “I hear you decided to drive down a mountainside to see what you could find.” Dr. Sanderson quipped.

  Her lips curved upward in spite of her nervousness. “I…I thought it was the quickest way to see the Blue Ridge Mountains,” she joked back.

  Blaise sat to the side holding her hand, allowing Grace to squeeze when the probing caused her pain.

  Standing back, the doctor snapped off his gloves and sat down on the stool in his examining room. With a twinkle, he said, “Gotta say, you’re the prettiest Saint I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with.”

  Smiling, she blushed, immediately liking the dour doctor. “So will I live?” she asked, matching his manner.

  Laughing, Dr. Sanderson looked over at Blaise and said, “I like her. Wish to hell the rest of you had more of a sense of humor when I’m patching you all up!” Turning his gaze back fondly toward Grace, he patted her knee. “Well, Miss Grace, I’m sure you know that under the right circumstances, you should have had stitches given the size of cut. I’m sure it bled a lot—most head injuries do. With stitches, the two edges of the wound would have been pulled together tightly, therefore the scar tissue
forming would have been more of a small line. As it is, you have a wider area for the tissue to fill in, creating a larger scar and, of course, taking longer to heal. It causes no physical problem…just one of vanity.”

  Biting her lip, she replied, “So I’m stuck with the Frankenstein look, right?”

  “Babe,” Blaise interrupted, standing to his full height, gazing down at her. “You’re beautiful…abso-fuckin’-lutely beautiful.”

  Shifting her smile between the two men, she nodded resolutely, saying, “Well, it is what it is now.”

  “You can certainly opt for plastic surgery at some point to lessen the appearance of the scar and I can recommend someone to you if you decide that is something you’d like to pursue.”

  “Dr. Sanderson, right now, I have no money, no health insurance, and for all intents and purposes, I’m supposed to be dead.” Allowing Blaise to assist her off the examining table, she sucked in a deep breath, saying, “I think, for now, I’m good with just being alive. But once all this is sorted, I’d like those recommendations from you…just in case.”

  Doc’s eyes warmed as he smiled down at the brave woman in front of him. Taking her hand in his, he added, “It’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you, Ms. Kennedy.” Cocking his head in Blaise’s direction, he said, “I think you’re just perfect for this one.” The older doctor’s heart skipped a beat as he was gifted with one of her brilliant smiles.

  *

  An hour later, Blaise and Grace, accompanied by Bart and Cam, walked into her apartment. Stepping over the threshold first, the men ascertained no one was there. Turning back, Blaise viewed Grace standing at the edge of the doorframe, uncertainty written clearly on her face.

  Saying nothing, he raised his hand toward her, palm up. She eyed it for a second before reaching out and placing her hand in his larger one. He wrapped his fingers around hers gently, not tugging, but allowing her to step inside at her own pace. After only a moment and a deep breath let out slowly, she entered.

  Her eyes moved slowly around the space, searching for anything familiar. The living room was on the left, a window overlooking the park nearby. The furniture appeared worn, but clean. Magazines were scattered across the coffee table. Nothing.

  The kitchen and small area for a dinette table were to the right, divided from the living room by a bar. Nothing.

  Walking on wooden legs, she moved down the hall to the bedroom and bathroom. Peeking into the bathroom, she saw towels, toiletries, and a dirty clothes hamper. Nothing.

  Going into the bedroom, she halted. Pale yellow walls on three sides and one in green. My dream. I did remember something about this! Looking at the furniture brought no memories and she stepped into the walk-in closet, noting her clothes hanging haphazardly. Nothing familiar.

  Looking across the room, on the other side of the bed she saw a large dog bed on the floor. A flash jolted through her and she gasped. Gypsy, sleeping on the bed. Me patting the bed each night and she jumping up to sleep with me, once I had given her the command.

  “Yes, yes!” she exclaimed, her eyes opening wide. “I remember Gypsy sleeping here and she would wait until I gave her the signal that it was all right to jump up on the bed with me!”

  Crossing the room toward her, Blaise grinned as he hugged her. “That’s great, babe. I think it’ll all come back eventually.”

  Still smiling, she felt more at ease looking around. “I was certainly messy, wasn’t I?” That thought gave her pause as she slowly shook her head. “Blaise? I don’t think I was this messy. I can’t explain it, but I haven’t left any kind of a mess in the almost month since I lived away from here.”

  Blaise thought back to the hovel she had lived in and remembered her sweeping up the room, the neat stack of blankets on the floor. “Bart and Cam believe this place was searched. Do you know what someone would be looking for?”

  Turning around slowly, Grace allowed the sights to seep into her consciousness. While nothing appeared familiar, it also did not feel as though she were in a strange location. Looking back at the men, she admitted, “There is something here that makes me feel as though I have been here before, while not remembering it exactly. But I don’t know what I could have had that anyone would have wanted.”

  “What about a computer? Laptop? IPad?” Bart asked. “We didn’t find anything here.”

  Scrunching her forehead, she said, “I’d have to have something…I mean, who doesn’t?”

  Placing a quick call to Luke, Cam asked, “Hey, man. Check her credit cards, bank statements, and internet accounts. We’re looking to make sure she had a computer, iPad, something like that, ‘cause there’s nothing here.”

  “It could have been in the car,” Blaise surmised.

  The others nodded and then proceeded to move back to the living area. Grace walked over to carefully look at a few framed pictures on the cabinet holding the flat-screen TV. She picked them up, one at a time, but shook her head. “It’s weird,” she said.

  “What is, babe?”

  “I look at these pictures and, while I can’t tell you who’s in them with me…at the same time, they seem familiar.”

  “Good, that’s good. That may mean that your memory is slowly being triggered.”

  Cam’s phone rang and he took the call from Luke, nodding as he jotted down information. Disconnecting, he reported, “You had an iPhone and a Mac and an iPad. Looks like you were an Apple girl.”

  “But none of them are here.” she said, frustration showing.

  “Luke is working to see if he can get a signal from any of them.”

  “Why don’t you get some of your clothes and toiletries together, while the guys finish fingerprinting?”

  “I’m not staying here?” she asked.

  “You think for one minute I’m letting you stay here?” He glanced over, seeing Bart and Cam grin, and pulled her gently into the bedroom. “Look, Grace. Right now, until we have the mystery solved as to what happened to you, you need protection and I’m giving it. All the way. Twenty-four-seven.” Seeing the uncertainty crossing her face again, he asked more softly, “What about that concerns you?”

  “I don’t want to be a burden, Blaise. I can never repay what all the Saints are doing for me, and you? I have no idea how to ever pay you back for all the help you’ve given me.”

  Stepping closer, until his toes met hers, he lifted her chin with his fingers so that he was able to peer deeply into her warm, tear-filled eyes. “Grace, I admit when I first saw you at the bar, while I was attracted to your beauty, it was your obvious need that brought out my protectiveness. But as we spent time together, I began to look forward to our lunches. Being with you and Gypsy. Getting to know you. I could tell you had secrets…I wanted to have you trust me enough to share your secrets.”

  “What are you saying?” she whispered, her voice shaking.

  “I’m saying that when I’m with you, I feel something. Something I want to explore. And it goes way beyond my wanting to help you…or protect you. I can only hope you feel the same.”

  A single tear slid down her cheek only to be wiped away by his thumb as his hands caressed her face. She nodded, not trusting her voice.

  “I gotta hear it, babe.”

  “Y…yes,” she agreed, a tremulous smile forming on her lips. “At first, I was just desperate enough to take your charity, but then I really wanted to see you each day too. You didn’t look at me like you thought I shouldn’t be in public without a shower. And then when I saw you with Gypsy and how she liked you, something inside clicked. But…well, I thought maybe it was just my imagination.”

  “This is no imagination. This is you and me, and our beginning.”

  Biting her lip, she said, “So what about this place?”

  “Right now, you take what you want and we’ll leave the rest. The Saints are going to start interviewing the people who knew you and worked with you. But,” he emphasized, “we’re not telling people that you’re alive. Just missing. We don’t want to tip off
anyone who might have wanted to harm you and assumes you’re dead.”

  “Oh, Blaise, do you really think someone wanted me dead?” she cried, her strength failing her.

  Holding her close, he said, “Don’t know, sweetheart, but if they did, we’ll find them. And then, they’ll pay.”

  *

  Stopping at the ramshackle store, Rob’s Gas & Groceries, Marc, Jude, and Patrick walked into the building. The tracker, Nathan, and his bloodhound, Scarlett, stayed in the vehicle. It appeared gas had not been sold at the old store in years, but the inside contained the grocery items a nearby resident might need if they did not want to make the long drive down the mountains into the nearest city.

  A teenager sat behind the counter, staring at a TV on a table nearby. “You need some help?” he called out. “We ain’t got no gas.”

  Jude and Patrick grabbed a couple of sodas and chips off the shelves while Marc sauntered to the counter. “This road traveled much?”

  “Nah, we don’t get much traffic no more. Old man Custis keeps saying he’s gonna close the shop, but then there’re a few oldsters that live up on the mountain that come here to get some food.”

  “Besides a few people living around here, is there anything else around?”

  “Couple of farms. Other than that, I see some traffic come by, but we close at five p.m. so don’t see nobody at night.”

  “Where’s the closest airport? Or even airstrip?”

  At that, the teen’s eyes widened. “Airport?” Barking out a laugh, he said, “Mister, ain’t got no airport around these parts. Not unless you count a crop duster landing strip on an old farmer’s field an airport.”

  Watching the young man continue to chuckle, Marc paid for the items the group picked up and threw a twenty down on the counter, saying, “Thanks for the information.”

  They walked out, getting back onto the road, leaving behind an open-mouthed teen, fingering the twenty-dollar bill.

  “You get anything good?” Jude asked.

  “The road isn’t traveled much and the area is scarcely populated, so if someone wanted to get rid of someone, this is a good place to do it. Found out there are no airports or airstrips nearby, other than for a crop duster. I still want that checked out, once we find her car.”