A Deadly Memory

by Gwen Taylor

  One of the text messages was there, the first one. And several photos of her that had to have been taken before the accident. There was no scab on her head or bruises. The photos were mostly of her alone, some with her and Amy and the bridal party. One of her and Amy at a storefront made her pause.

  "I've been there."

  "Obviously." Walsh grinned.

  "No, you don't understand. I remember being there. I was hosting Amy's shower. I remember that. That's where I had the melon. There were blood moon balls."

  “What now?"

  Piper laughed. “One of Amy’s bridal party had us theme the shower after the blood moon that night. We were supposed to all be back at the hotel. Amy sent me for supplies. And a dress or a shoe or something. I remember that!”

  Her elated feeling lost its wind with the next photo.

  The shot was of her sitting at the cafe table looking straight at the camera like she knew she was being watched. Amy was behind her, the white sign above them.

  Piper tried to remember more. Had she known she was being watched? Was that why she was pushed off the road? More questions flooded her mind. She needed answers. She needed to review her files, jog more memory. There wasn't enough to go on, even though it was a start.

  Walsh looked over at the picture again. "Did you see who they'd called?"

  "I was getting to that." Piper figured the call log would be empty. But it wasn't. There were two numbers.

  "Let's dial them."

  Piper shook her head. "No, not yet. Let's get back to the station and call Ted. Maybe this wasn't futile after all."

  19

  Sean woke from a foggy dream in which he kept getting shot and watching his blood drain out into a waterfall. In it, he had called out Piper's name over and over and each time she had appeared just out of reach, her blood-stained hand held out for him to help her. The last thing he remembered was her asking him not to go. Stay with me. Stay with me, Sean.

  He brought his hand to his face and winced at the pain that shot across his chest. He slowed his movements and tried to sit up. Sweat broke out on his face, and he was panting by the time he was fully upright.

  "They have these things called hospital beds for a reason."

  Piper.

  She was standing in the doorway. Her long green dress matched her eyes, made him think of the day he'd proposed. She had worn green then too, and how she had looked was forever etched into his mind.

  "Let me help you." She pointed to the buttons on the bed's rails. "A little adjustment here."

  She pressed the button and the bed moved up to meet his back. Her hair fell down against his cheek, and he smelled the sweet scent that he remembered so well. He dared not breathe too deeply. He took a shallow breath. "Thank you."

  "No problem. How are you feeling?" She adjusted a pillow at his head and took his hand.

  His stomach clenched at the gesture. "I'm doing well. Doctor thinks I'm a miracle."

  "You are." She squeezed his hand and released it. "I was there. I thought you might not make it."

  He was deeply touched by her attempt not to show her fear, by the very fact that she felt something for him. The little touches, his pillows, it all made him feel like she was his again.

  She leaned forward. "I have to tell you something."

  "What?"

  "I took your car for a little drive."

  He arched a brow. "A little drive. Is that Piper speak for 'it's totaled?'"

  "No. It's fine. But since Nana told you where I was going, I thought you might want to know what we found."

  "What?"

  "One of the burner phones they were using to text me."

  "That's excellent. Did you call Ted?"

  "Walsh did. Ted's doing whatever he does now. And then they're going to call the numbers on it and see what they get. Two cell phones, no hits."

  "Sounds like you're moving along."

  "We were—"

  His phone rang.

  "Could you grab that?" He took the phone. Harris again. "It's your partner."

  Piper nodded.

  "Hughes."

  Harris's voice came out loud and clear on the phone's speaker. "I've been trying to reach you. I have some names for you from those descriptions and plates. Charles—"

  "Buckner."

  "Right. How did you know that?"

  He started to answer, but Piper chimed in. "We got a positive ID. Hello, Philip. What about the female?"

  "Piper? Are you doing okay?"

  "I’m good. Any luck finding out anything about the woman he was with?"

  Sean heard the hope in her voice. Hope that it was almost over. He wanted it to be over too, even if that meant she would leave again. He handed the phone to her.

  Philip sighed loudly. "Not much. He was married once to a Charlene Chester before he went to prison for auto theft. They were divorced and remarried twice. She was on the visitor's log during his last incarceration. And they both have ties to Gamble."

  "He sent them." She looked at Sean. "He sent them to kill me."

  "Looks like it." The sound of keystrokes came through the speaker. "Uh, guys, my database says that our Good time Charlie is dead. That can't be right."

  Piper met Sean's eyes. "It is."

  He paused. "Okay. What about the woman?"

  "No, she's on the loose still."

  "Her only priors are some traffic tickets and domestic disturbance, but with Charlie's record and the ties to Gamble, I'd consider her dangerous."

  Sean nodded. "We do. Anything more on the Gamble trial?"

  "Still set for May tenth, two weeks. I guess he's feeling desperate to keep himself out of jail. And Piper's the only thing between him and freedom. Except..."

  "Except what?" Piper's brow furrowed.

  "Well, our mutual friend Sally told me that the DA offered Gamble a deal."

  "What was it?"

  "I don't know. I'll see what she can dig up. You two were pretty tight. I'm sure she'll want to help."

  "Thanks, Philip, I really appreciate it."

  "Anytime. I'll let you know when I have more information. Take care, partner."

  Sean took in Piper's downcast appearance as she ended the call. "Hey, at least that's something to go on."

  She looked up. "Hmm? Yeah, I guess it is."

  "We'll find her, and we'll make sure nothing happens to you."

  "What about everyone else? You, Amy, Nana? Who will be hurt next? You were shot because of me, Sean. You could have died, and it would have been all my fault." She stood and turned away from him. He couldn't see her face.

  "Charlie and the blonde are only two of who knows how many on Gamble's payroll. How can I stay here and continue to put everyone I love in danger?" The defeat he heard in her voice hurt him more than his battered ribs, but it was the word love that had him reeling. Could that love ever apply to him again?

  "Piper…”

  "Knock, knock." Lynn opened the partially closed door and stepped into the room, smiling. "How are we doing?"

  Piper's "fine" and thin-lipped smile made him wish he'd said something more.

  Lynn checked his vitals before grabbing a pair of gloves from the box on the wall. "I need to change that dressing, hon. You feeling okay? No pain?"

  "I'm managing." Sean watched her put the gloves on and saw Piper ease toward the door.

  Lynn crossed over to his chart and cut off Piper's escape. She smiled knowingly and winked at Piper. "I might give him an extra Jello for managing."

  He grunted. "No Jello."

  "You promise you'll tell me if you need anything?" She turned to Piper who was standing with her arms crossed and her feet pointed toward the door. "You tell me if he needs something else, will you, hon? I know how tight-lipped these macho men can be."

  "I will." Piper met his eyes, and his breath caught in his chest.

  Lynn opened a fresh pack of gauze. "Hon, if you want to step out in the hallway for a few minutes, I'll get him all set for the night."<
br />
  "Of course," Piper said, her eyes darting away. She addressed him without looking. "I'll come back later."

  She was gone before he could reply, and he had the nagging feeling that what hadn't been spoken between them was lost to the moment.

  20

  Sean's blood had literally been on her hands, and if he had died...well, she never wanted to feel that horrible fear again, never wanted to think she'd been the cause of his pain, never wanted to stare his death in the face and realize she was the one responsible.

  Looking at him lying there today had brought the guilt and fear center stage.

  Piper pushed the photo album away, not able to concentrate on any memory other than the one of her bent over Sean, calling for him to respond, begging him to stay with her, praying that he wouldn't die.

  She leaned back and closed her eyes. The sound of Nana's kitchen door opening had her sitting upright.

  "I'm heading back now." Nana set a glass of milk and a slice of plum cake on the coffee table. "You're sure you won't come with me?"

  "I'm sure. I think I'll stay here and go through some of the things I brought back from—" she had started to say "home," but that didn't exist. "The things from work and my apartment. Maybe they'll help me remember something."

  "I sure hope so, child. I sure hope so." Nana pointed to the cake. "That's fresh made. Had to do something with myself. Idle hands, you know."

  Piper looked down at her own. "Yeah, I know. Speaking of which, can I do anything for you, Nana? I feel like I haven't lifted a hand since I've been here."

  "Not at all. You need to take it easy. Though I will need your help with our boy."

  Our boy. No, not hers any longer, but she didn't correct Nana. "I'll be happy to help. I'm so grateful he's okay."

  "I know. I told you my boy would be well. Our boy." Nana's sharp eyes zeroed in on the pictures showing on the open page. "Remembering is good for us. Knowing where you've been is part of knowing where you're headed."

  Piper looked at the pictures too. She had been staring blankly at the pages, flipping through them without really seeing them. They were of her and Sean at their engagement party. So happy.

  She met Nana's eyes. Nana smiled. "And where you are now says a lot about where you've been. That road runs both ways, child."

  Piper nodded. "I just want to go home."

  "And where is that, Piper?" Nana sat beside her and took her hand. "Where is home?"

  "I...I uh, don't honestly know."

  "Yes, you do. Where does your heart go?" Nana patted her chest. "That's where home is."

  Piper put her hand over her own heart. Where was home? It had once been her childhood home with Amy, then the castle in the air of the home she and Sean would have and never did. Now, her heart was lost, its compass needle spinning wildly. Part of her wanted what she had lost, that home she would have had, the family he'd said she hadn't wanted. But part of her wondered why she had left, what had pulled her away? Was something else waiting for her that she didn't yet know?

  "There's nothing there, Nana."

  "There is. You give it time to tell you. You'll know. The heart knows when it's found home." She stood. "Now, eat plenty, rest plenty, and don't wait up for me. Food enough in the fridge."

  "Thank you, Nana. You have been so good to me. I owe you more than I could ever repay." Piper rose and put her arms around Nana. "I love you, that doesn't change no matter where I go."

  "I know, child. I just hope you don't go too far. I've missed you. We all have."

  Piper wondered if Nana meant Sean had missed her. If he had, why hadn't he come after her? She locked the door behind Nana, closing the blinds on the sight of the unmarked car sitting idle at the end of the driveway, and headed toward her room and the box of near nothing she'd brought from Barton.

  She lifted the basket of potpourri out. Sean had left her other gun on top of it. She dug inside and found a cartridge. She loaded it, made sure the safety was on, and put it back in the basket under the camouflage of the potpourri before taking out the contents of her desk.

  When she lifted the picture paperweight from the few items she'd had, the lonely, empty reality of her life in Barton hit home. The apartment had been sparse, like she'd rented it by the week, not expecting to stay long enough to put any energy into it. The only thing that had proven she'd been there was her weapon hidden in the potpourri and the tiny clay pot of violets that had been on the kitchen table. Nothing else said Piper Adams.

  Same with work. No color of her, no hint that she had been there.

  Piper eyed the paperweight with disdain. She hated the life she had glimpsed in the city, hated the empty apartment, the bleak cubicle, the Piper she had been. She would not live that way. Could not if she expected her heart and soul not to shrivel and die inside her.

  Sean had been right. She was stuck trying to figure out what the Piper in the past had wanted, tried to mold herself to that, but that wasn't what she, Piper right now, wanted. She wanted a life, a family, a home.

  Piper pushed the face of the weight aside and ripped the standard-issue photo from its place. She started to wad the photo up and felt something hard attached to the back of the glossy paper.

  She turned it over. A blue SD card was taped to the slick surface. Her own handwriting greeted her on the white paper. 2-12, 3-17, 4-15. Piper smoothed out the wrinkles and pulled the card from its tape.

  She needed a computer.

  Sean's keys were hanging back on their spot by the door, but Piper shook her head at the thought. No, she would play by the rules. She took a deep breath, sliced up two pieces of plum cake, and headed out the door with her bribe toward the driveway.

  The plainclothes cops hurried toward her. One was the rookie who had found the phone. Piper held up the cake.

  "What’s a girl gotta do to get a police escort?"

  21

  Sean realized how Piper must have felt, why she had torn her IVs out. He was feeling the same urge. If the doctor hadn't shown up, he might have done the same thing.

  "I'm going to order some blood work this morning. If everything looks good, I'll be sending you back home soon." The doctor clicked his pen closed and slid it back in his breast pocket before starting his exam. "Any pain here?"

  Sean tensed at the pressure of the doctor's hands on his side. "Not too bad."

  "Here?"

  He expected a sharp pang, but there was only a twinge, more tender than sharp. "Kinda sore's all."

  "Good, good. And let's take a look at that dressing."

  Sean looked down. The puckered flesh with the black thread running over it like a baseball seam was orange with the antiseptic Lynn had painted over it before dressing it earlier. He wondered what kind of scar he'd have. His first bullet wound. And he hoped his last.

  The doctor pressed lightly at the seam and then covered it again. "It's looking pretty good. I'd say you're healing nicely."

  "Then how about you send me home right now?" He needed to be home, needed to get back on his feet, to be there to protect Piper and Nana.

  The doctor tugged the latex gloves off. "What's your hurry?"

  "I can do fine at home, better I'm sure." Which was true. A familiar, comfortable place as opposed to a hospital with bad food and worse service.

  "Not liking our hospitality?"

  "Not liking anything about a hospital. Except the fact that it saved my life. And I appreciate that, but I can do fine on my own."

  "You'd need a nurse. I know your grandmother says she can handle it, but it might be a lot to ask of an elderly lady."

  Sean nodded. "That's not a problem. My..." The word fiancé had come to his mind. "A friend of mine will be there to help."

  And he knew she would, but even if she didn't, he could take care of himself.

  "If your blood work is good, I'll sign off on your release."

  "I could leave. Thought about it."

  "You've only been with us for a few days, detective. Don't let a few trips
up and down the hall fool you. You'll not find walking a long distance all that easy." The doctor wrote something on Sean's chart. "But I can release you, maybe as early as tomorrow, and see you back in my office in a week for an x-ray and blood work."

  "Sounds good."

  "The nurse will go over all your instructions for care. You'll have antibiotics and some pain meds. Tell the nurse which pharmacy you use, and you should be set. Make sure you keep the wound clean. And no heroics for a while. I'd like you out of work for at least six weeks. Desk duty for a while after that. I won't clear you for active duty until I'm satisfied."

  Sean agreed, daring to get his hopes up that three was his lucky number and that he was about to spend his last night in this hospital bed.

  He had never been so happy to sit down on Nana's floral jungle of a loveseat. She and Piper let go of him and pushed the pillow the nurse had given him to his chest.

  He coughed, and the jarring was torture on his ribs. He couldn't hold back a groan. It brought both women back to him, one on either side. Piper's cool hand touched his arm.

  "You okay?"

  He nodded, not trusting his breath to words just yet. Piper narrowed her eyes.

  "If something hurts, you have to tell us. The doctor was adamant about keeping your chest still and that wound clean and covered. You didn't hurt it, did you?'

  He shook his head. "No, jarred me a little is all."

  She looked at him like she wasn't sure she should believe him and then patted his arm. "How about something to eat? I remember what the food was like."

  "You name it, I'll make it." Nana chimed in.

  "Anything but Jello."

  "You got it." She was standing back, not rushing to him like Piper had done. That wasn't like her. She left them there and headed to the kitchen. "I'll just go make you something. Piper can take care of you for a while. I'm behind in my laundry. Holler if you need me."

  Nana's retreat must have puzzled Piper too. She furrowed her brow and stared at the closed kitchen door.

  Sean adjusted himself, holding his breath before settling back against the cushions. A pang shot through him, and he grit his teeth to keep from groaning again. Piper was suddenly hovering over him with her deft hands doing several things at once it seemed..