Only A Memory Away

by Madeline St. Claire

  For a moment, the words hung in the air. Then Karen’s eyes widened in shock. The detectives had never mentioned the name of the murdered woman.

  Karen dodged under his arm and ran for her life.

  “Karen!”

  She flew back down the way they’d come, with no idea what she’d do when the level trail veered straight down the mountain.

  “Karen, stop!”

  The shout was ten feet behind her.

  “I heard the girl’s name on the radio this morning.”

  Karen slashed at the brush that reached out to slow her. He was gaining on her!

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  Karen saw the four-foot-long snake in the same second it saw her. It was crossing the sunny trail, and there was no way she could safely run around it or jump over it. The serpent instantly coiled its scaly body in the dust, its head up and back.

  She stumbled and almost fell headlong as she fought to break her forward momentum. She was nearly on top of the snake when she stopped.

  Karen stared in horror at the diamond-shaped head with its gleaming, malevolent eyes. There was a moment of silence, then the snake’s pale, segmented tail began a fierce rattle.

  “Oh, my God.”

  A sinewy black tongue flicked out and in, out and in.

  “Karen, don’t move.”

  She’d forgotten about Judd. His whisper was at her right shoulder. She stood frozen, unable to flinch if she’d tried.

  There came a slight metallic clicking noise behind her, then Judd’s arm jerked past her face and something silvery flew toward the snake.

  The reptile’s body reared backward, the knife catching it in the throat. Karen cried out as Judd pulled her back to safety.

  “Don’t look,” he commanded, turning her to him and cradling her head. The rattling had stopped.

  Karen gulped. “Is it…?”

  “Yes, it’s dead.”

  She let go a relieved sob. “I was sure it was going to get me.”

  “For a moment, there, I thought it was, too.”

  She could feel his heart pounding beneath her ear. She waited a minute, her arms reassuringly wrapped around him, as the congestion in her chest worked its way out.

  When she looked up, he removed the offensive sunglasses that had made reading his expression so difficult. It was easy now to tell what he was feeling—deep concern.

  “I hope you’re not going to be upset I had a pocketknife on me,” he said, searching her eyes. “I seem to remember some boyish target practice at a fence long ago, and most men carry one.”

  Karen brushed the tears and sweat from her face. “I’m not complaining, believe me. I’m just glad you’ve still got good aim.”

  “I’m sorry I startled you, coming out with the girl’s name like that. The sheriff gave a press conference on the radio around noon and said they’d identified her. You were out on your appointments when it came on.”

  Karen struggled to think back. This morning seemed a week away. She’d left the Shensky sisters sometime after twelve. There had been no news of the murder on the radio as she drove home; the announcer must have just finished covering the story when she tuned in.

  “I believe you,” she said simply.

  Karen waited while Judd quickly disposed of the snake carcass, then they went back to the lake the way they’d come. When they were on the flat again, Judd said, “Before we get back to the car, there’s something I need to say to you.” He gestured to a deserted bench with a view of the water and waited for Karen to sit down before joining her.

  His bare eyes squinted in the sun as he stared at the lake for a moment before beginning. When he spoke, he didn’t look at her, but his voice was full of emotion. “What I did just now, taking you up in the woods, was inexcusable. ‘Sorry’ doesn’t begin to cover it, I know.”

  He sighed and shook his head.

  “I’ve been in a strange mood all day. The detectives’ visit this morning threw me, I guess. The run this morning didn’t help, and I thought if we got out, away from town, that I could clear my mind, mentally relax and see if that didn’t help some of my memories come to the surface.”

  “I noticed you were zoning out, but I didn’t understand why.”

  “At the same time, almost without realizing it, I think I was testing you.” Judd twisted his key ring penlight on and off between his fingers. “When we said goodbye this morning, you seemed upset, almost anxious. I wondered if you were having second thoughts about me, suspecting I was a murderer, and bringing you up to the lake was a way of testing your faith in me. However, by the time we headed up the mountain on that trail, I’d pretty much made up my mind how you felt. That’s why I got so angry. Like I said, it was a rotten thing to do.”

  “Well, perhaps it was partly my fault” She explained how his unexpectedly even mood had thrown her off this morning and concluded by saying, “The facts of the crime showed you had nothing to do with it, so I shouldn’t have let my imagination run away with me. Believe me, I don’t have any doubts about you now.” She thought, but didn’t say, that if he’d wanted to do away with her, the snake’s attack had been a perfect opportunity. He could have backed away from her and let nature take its course; he would have been accounted blameless when she died from the venom before reaching the hospital. Instead he had instantly come to her aid, and his quick thinking and coolness under pressure had saved her.

  Small wonder then, Karen told herself, that even at this moment she was feeling a strong magnetic pull toward him. The memory of their kiss, up on the trail, flooded back. He had been so ardent but gentlemanly, only deepening the embrace when she made it clear she wanted him to…

  Judd broke into her thoughts with a rueful chuckle. Apparently he was having his own, very different, reminiscences, for he rubbed his index finger over his lower lip and said, “I seem to spend half my time apologizing to you, and the other half terrifying you.”

  Karen couldn’t resist a sudden urge to play the coquette. “Not always,” she responded. Her lips pouted just a little as she regarded him through suggestively lowered lashes. Judd’s serious expression turned into surprise and disbelief, then brightened into a grin of relief that was thoroughly charming.

  Knowing she had the power to transform the mood of this moodiest, most self-possessed of men was amazingly gratifying. For the first time that day, Karen felt in control of her life again.

  “Come along, Sir Maxwell,” she said, rising from the bench. “Enough dragon slaying and maiden saving for one day. Let’s go home.”

  Judd put his right hand over his heart and inclined his head. “Whatever mi’lady desires.”

  Another rock on the back porch swing, perhaps? Karen thought She gave him a queenly, albeit mischievous smile.

  With alacrity, Judd fell into step beside her. The palm he placed on the middle of her back was at once respectful in its lightness, possessive in its heat. To Karen, it felt just perfect.

  THE IMAGINATION WAS willing, but the body was weak. By the time they reached the house, emotional exhaustion had combined with lack of a good night’s rest to leave Karen with only one desire: for sleep. When she sheepishly admitted she was dying for a nap, Judd looked sorry to part with her. But he graciously gave her a paternal peck on the forehead and told her to go get forty winks.

  She paused long enough to say hello to Trouble as Judd removed the cover and took his pet out for a head scratch, then she went straight to her room.

  When she awoke, the sun was going down, and she realized she’d slept almost three hours. She ran a wet towel over her face and torso and changed into a comfortable, ankle-length dress of turquoise knit.

  Judd had voiced the intention of snoozing on the sofa, but she found him out back in the old rope hammock, reading a copy of Stereo Review, his trousered legs crossed at the ankle. He looked up as she came to stand next to him. “Have a nice nap?”

  “Uh-huh.” Karen yawned.

  “Hungry?”
r />   “Ravenous.”

  Judd rubbed his stomach through his striped sports shirt. “I hate to ask you to cook, but I’ve got a confession to make.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I think those fancy pots we found in my apartment were just for show. Those steaks I fried last night were pushing the envelope.”

  Karen smiled. “I’ve got a better idea. Since you saved my life this afternoon, let me buy you dinner.”

  On their way to the restaurant, Judd asked her preference before tuning the radio, and they talked about music for a bit. Karen felt relaxed, and Judd seemed to be enjoying himself, as well.

  She suggested they eat Chinese food and Judd parked behind the downtown restaurant in a vacant lot They held hands as they walked around to the front of the little building, talking about nothing and happy. Judd held the glass-fronted door open for her, and they waited beside an enormous fish tank as the proprietor rang up the bill for a couple in their early twenties.

  The male customer sported a tight red T-shirt and blond crew cut. He worked a toothpick in his mouth as he put his change in his wallet, then looked up and did a double take at Judd. His lip slowly curled back, and his angry eyes never left Judd as he replaced the wallet in his jeans.

  Karen knew there was going to be trouble.

  Chapter Nine

  “Do you know me?” Judd asked.

  “No, and I don’t want to, either.”

  “Curt. Curtis!” The young man’s pretty girlfriend glanced uncertainly at Judd and Karen, then back at her sneering escort She took his arm and tugged. “Like, we have to go, you know.”

  “All right, baby,” he murmured, curling her arm protectively under his, but he looked as though he’d rather stay and spit on Judd than be led away.

  “Whew,” Karen breathed as the door closed behind them.

  “I guess I must have forgotten to change his points,” Judd said.

  “What?”

  “Unhappy customer.”

  “Oh, you mean a car tune-up. Do you remember him?”

  “No, but he’s not the first person who has recognized me, probably from the station. I told you it would get around town that the gas jockey from Summers’ has amnesia. It happened once at the bank, and when I took that long run this morning. But everyone I asked said they knew me from the station and that was all. However, this is the first person who has shown any emotion other than friendly curiosity.”

  “Well, he’s welcome to keep his emotion until he finds a better one!” Karen said it lightly, but the fellow’s hostility had frightened her for a moment.

  The slightly built young waiter, who had witnessed everything, flipped two menus in his hands and looked embarrassed. “Very nice to see you, miss. I got a good table for you. Best Please this way.” He showed them to a quiet spot beneath a Chinese lantern, then made a small ceremony of pouring tea for them. When they thanked him, he flashed an enormous smile distinguished by a solid gold bicuspid.

  When they were alone, Karen told Judd, “The waiter is a nice fellow, I like him.”

  “And not long in this country, from the thickness of his accent”

  “He and his twin brother are nephews of the owner. They came over from Hong Kong, I think, at the beginning of the summer.”

  As they were discussing the menu, their host returned and set a hot plate between them. “Pot sticker for you, on the house. You like to order now?”

  “How sweet, thank you,” Karen said, then let Judd order the dishes they’d decided on.

  She was cautious about breaking the mood, but she hadn’t brought up the subject since yesterday, and she couldn’t wait forever to ask. When they had taken a few bites of the appetizer, she said, “Did you see anything today that looked familiar?”

  “I like the scenery around here very much, and the town seems somewhat familiar, but I haven’t had any flashbacks to specific events. I still feel like I landed in Oz.”

  He didn’t seem disturbed she’d brought up the subject, so Karen continued, “Do you think you used to fish or hunt?”

  “I don’t remember how to fish, the way I can remember details about old cars.”

  “Considering how you felt about guns at my uncle’s, you probably weren’t a hunter, either.”

  “Yes.” He frowned. “That was strange.”

  She cupped her chin in her hand. “Did you ski?”

  “Hmm…I might very well have, though I don’t think it was a passion. I doubt I came here for the recreation.” He gave a rueful chuckle and leaned on the table toward her. “There were a couple of oldtimers, waiting in the bank teller’s line behind me. The one said to the other, ‘There’s only three reasons for a soul to come to Silver Creek—to work in the mines, to retire or to hide from something.’ I think he was talking about his new neighbor, whom he apparently didn’t care for.”

  “So you think you may have been running from something?” Karen asked gently.

  His expression was open and honest as he said, “Not really. I don’t feel I have anything to fear outside Silver Creek, though I suppose it’s a possibility.”

  His phrasing seemed rather odd, but she was too relieved he felt that way to question it. “You lived in Los Angeles before, apparently. Do you remember anything about there?”

  Judd rotated his water glass on the white tablecloth as he considered his answer. “My only impressions of the big city are that it wasn’t my favorite place. I don’t know why, or how I know it, but I have this gut feeling I’m more comfortable here, out in the middle of nowhere, than I would be on a Los Angeles street. Perhaps I just got sick of urban life, and that’s why I came here.”

  “I think that would be perfectly understandable. I hate commuting to Granite City, but I’d rather do that than live there, even though it’s not a large city by most standards. Ah, here’s our dinner.”

  As they ate, Judd asked her about her career. She told him how she’d worked as an intern during the summers before getting the full-time job in Granite, then described some of the more common problems she encountered in working with seniors.

  Sometime during the meal, an older man came in and was seated across the room from them. After ordering, he occupied himself reading the afternoon paper. Karen didn’t pay much attention to him, until her ears pricked up when the waiter asked him in a concerned voice, “Everything all right?”

  “Yes, it was fine. The paper, I hadn’t heard—” He glanced at Judd, saw he was being watched and cut off the sentence.

  “I get you something else?”

  “No, no, just this to go.”

  The waiter carried two full plates of food back to the kitchen. After the patron hurriedly paid his bill and departed, Judd got up and scooped the man’s abandoned newspaper from the table.

  He unfolded it to the front page and scanned the headline. “I was afraid of this.”

  Karen put her fork down. “What is it?”

  “People are adding two and two together, and apparently I make four. In their minds, at least.” His eyes flicked back and forth as he read.

  “What is it?” Karen repeated.

  “A story about the murdered girl. That man probably recognized me, like the others, and when he read about Marlene, he got worried he might be dining with a crazed killer.”

  “How ridiculous.”

  “Well, it’s more reassuring to believe the murderer is a stranger than one of your fellow townsfolk.”

  Judd kept reading. “The county coroner released his preliminary report this afternoon. He’s calculated the time of death as sometime between eight Friday night and one-thirty Saturday morning.”

  “Oh, no,” Karen said in exasperation. The fact that the murder occurred before Judd was found on the road was sure to cause him more problems!

  “‘The victim called the Creekside Diner in Silver Creek,’” he read, “‘where she worked as a waitress, around seven forty-five Friday night. Sheriff’s officials say this is her last known contact with any
one before she was killed.’” Judd lowered the paper. “Isn’t the Creekside Diner the place we stopped for lunch, the day you picked me up on the road?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “The older waitress was upset with our girl, the one who identified me, because one of the other waitresses was out.” His brow furrowed. “I think she called the missing waitress Mar.”

  “You’re right!”

  “There’s a little more.” He read silently, then summarized, “Marlene lived out in the sticks somewhere, and the body was buried miles away. However, they think she was killed at her cottage and the perpetrator very carefully cleaned up after himself before transporting the body.”

  Karen tried not to picture the murder scene, or the methodical killer mopping up all traces of his crime. It made her want to shiver, but she suppressed it. She kept quiet and toyed with her food as she let Judd reread the article. He took such a long time, she thought he must be memorizing it. When he finally folded the paper and laid it in his lap, she said, “Would you like some more chow mein?”

  His shoulders slumped. “No, I’m finished.”

  Karen surmised he hadn’t counted on the murder taking place before he came down with amnesia, and discovering that the time of the killing could have coincided with his own accident must be playing havoc with his emotions. She wanted to talk to him about the story as soon as possible, but this obviously wasn’t the place for it. She motioned for the waiter and asked for the check.

  Neither of them spoke as they walked to the car in the lot behind the restaurant. It was almost nine; all the shops on Main Street were closed and traffic was light. A floodlight mounted on the back wall of the restaurant illuminated the parked vehicles. They were almost to Judd’s car when a voice called out behind them.

  “Hey, Maxwell, turn around!”

  Karen gasped. There were four young men, with handkerchiefs covering their lower faces. The leader, in jeans and a red shirt, she recognized as the boy called Curt, who had scowled at them in the restaurant. The other three looked about the same age: late teens or early twenties.

  “So,” the leader demanded, “what makes you think you can pull into town, murder one of our women and get away with it by saying you can’t remember?”