At Her Service. Maureen Child

again, her earlier excitement about getting back some of her memory replaced by fear.

      She told Officer Walker about the deer, losing control of the car, going into the lake and seeing someone on the bottom.

      The cop gave her an unbelieving look. “Your husband told me you were upset when you left home last night. Can you tell me what that was about?”

      So she had seen Marc last night at the house? “No. That is, I don’t know. I don’t remember seeing my husband last night or what I might have been upset about.”

      The cop’s look said he found that a little too convenient. “Your husband said you might have been upset because he told you he hadn’t gone through with the divorce.”

      She frowned. “Why would I be upset about that?”

      “Why don’t you tell me,” he said.

      She shot a look at the doctor. He looked worried as if he feared—as she did—that something had happened to make Officer Walker more suspicious of her. She knew she didn’t have to answer his questions, but she had nothing to hide. At least she hoped that was true. And at this point, Officer Walker seemed to know more than she did about what had happened last night.

      “I was the one who didn’t want the divorce in the first place,” she said.

      “You don’t recall seeing your husband at all last night?”

      She shook her head slowly, a vague memory pulling at her. An ugly argument. But she’d had so many arguments with Marc… “I can’t be sure.”

      Walker sighed and looked at the doctor.

      She felt dread settle in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong. She knew she should stop the police officer now, not answer any more of his questions. But she desperately wanted to know why he was asking them, why his manner was even more suspicious than it had been earlier. “Why are you asking me all these questions?”

      “Your husband said he not only saw you last night, but that the two of you argued. When you left, he said, you were threatening to kill someone.”

      “That’s ridiculous,” she snapped. “You don’t know Marc. He…” She thought of something Gillian had once said about Marc. He likes drama in his life. It’s his drug of choice. He gets high on it. And when he doesn’t have enough drama, he makes it. Or forces you to.

      “Marc overreacts sometimes,” she said simply.

      “Have you been under the care of a psychiatrist?”

      “No, I mean, I was but I stopped going.”

      “Mrs. Collins, did you purposely drive your car into the lake last night?”

      “Of course not!”

      “Were you even in the car when it went into the lake?” he asked, sounding aggravated with her.

      She felt close to tears. “Why would I lie about something like that?”

      “You tell me.”

      She couldn’t believe this was happening.

      “Maybe for the same reason you threatened to kill someone? To get your husband’s attention?”

      She wanted to argue that even if she was stupid enough to pull a stunt like that, she no longer cared enough about Marc to even threaten to kill herself—let alone try. Nor did she believe Marc would care.

      That thought rang so true she was momentarily stunned by it.

      “If you’re telling the truth, Mrs. Collins, then you don’t remember what you did last night, isn’t that right?” the cop asked.

      She blinked, focusing again on him and his question before she slowly nodded. She’d lost the hours before she’d swerved to miss the deer. Just as she’d lost the reason she was on that highway to begin with.

      And the truth was, in the state she’d been in since coming out of the coma, she couldn’t swear to what she might have done. Maybe she had tried to kill herself last night. But she had to wonder what would have pushed her to that point.

      “I suppose you also don’t remember being so upset that you forgot about getting a speeding ticket about thirty miles outside of Shadow Lake.”

      She shook her head.

      “Or telling Dr. Brubaker to look for your son?” The cop sounded angry.

      “No.” A headache was building. “I told you. I was confused when I first woke up. Everything I’ve told you is the truth.”

      “Why didn’t you tell us, Mrs. Collins, that your son Tyler is dead?” Walker snapped. “That he was killed eight months ago in a hit-and-run accident. The same one that left you in a coma.”