He pulled into a spot close to the door, threw the car into Park and turned to her. “Does the store look familiar?”
She peered out the side window at the aging brick building. “Yes and no. When I look at it, I instinctively know what kind of store it is, but I can’t say that I’ve ever been here.”
“So it does look familiar?”
“Sort of, but…” She paused, searching for the words to explain. It was difficult to describe something she barely understood. “If you took me to a gas station I’d never been to before, I would still know it was a gas station. This store is familiar, but only in the sense that I know what type of store it is.”
“Do you want to try going inside?”
“We’re here. I may as well give it a shot.”
She waited for him to walk around and open her door, delaying the inevitable for a few precious seconds. Not only was she afraid of what she may or may not discover about her past, but her time with Detective Thompson had nearly expired. If she didn’t get her memory back now, he would dump her at some halfway house. Then she would really be alone.
She swallowed back the fear crawling up from her belly.
Her door swung open and, steeling herself for what was to come—good or bad—she climbed out. The sun had disappeared behind a line of ominous dark clouds and a chilling dampness skittered the length of her spine. Was it some divine warning? Did she even believe in God? Was she Catholic, Jewish, Muslim?
So many questions and still no answers.
“You sure you’re okay with this?” Detective Thompson asked once again.
“I’m sure,” she said, feeling anything but. Feeling instead as if she’d like to run in the opposite direction, back to the car. Or better yet, into Detective Thompson’s arms. She was reasonably sure she would feel safe there. However, if she planned to get through this ordeal in one piece, she could rely on only one person.
Herself. Wasn’t that the way it had always been?
She stopped dead in her tracks, struggling to hold on to the thought, but it was already slipping away. That had been a memory, she was sure of it. But what did it mean?
A car horn blared and a hand wrapped around her upper arm, yanking her out of the way. “Earth to Jane.”
She looked up into Detective Thompson’s concerned face. Only then did she realize she’d stopped right in the middle of the lot, blocking traffic.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I…I think I remembered something. But it was more like a feeling than an actual memory.”
“What did it feel like.”
“I felt…alone.”
“You’re not alone.”
“Not yet.”
If she saw a flash of guilt in his eyes, it was gone almost instantly. “Let’s go inside.”
They stepped through the automatic door and she once again felt that sudden and brief surge of adrenaline.
“I think I remember being here,” she said, excitement and hope erupting inside of her like a geyser. Maybe it would all start to come back now. Maybe this nightmare was almost over.
Or maybe it was just beginning.
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