Page 80 of Ruthless Regret

“Are you sure there’s nothing else you can remember? Don’t try to force it, but if anything comes to mind …”

I close my eyes, willing the memories to surface, but all I see is that persistent shadow.

“No, I’m sorry. I just … I can’t remember.”

“That’s okay. Maybe it’ll come to you later.” He reaches past me and opens the front door.

I step outside, and take a deep breath, taking in a lungful of fresh air. We’re halfway to the car when Zain’s phone rings.

He answers, with a clipped, “Hello.”

I can’t hear who speaks, and Zain’s replies don’t give any hint. I watch his face, trying to read his expression, but he gives nothing away.

“Okay, thanks.” He hangs up. “That was Peter. He arranged to get the partial print analyzed.”

My heart rate increases. “And? Who did it belong to?”

“Detective Ramsey.”

I blink, processing the information.

“Oh … I guess that makes sense, doesn’t it?”

He nods. “Yeah. Not exactly the breakthrough I was hoping for.”

“I’m sorry.” I sigh, leaning against the car.

“We still have your memory of someone else being here. That’s something we didn’t know before.”

I nod. “But I can’t even remember that clearly. It’s just shadows and fragments. That’s no help at all.” My voice is tight with frustration.

His hand finds my shoulder. “It’s a start.”

“Why are you being so positive?”

“Determined,” he corrects.

I look up at him. “What do we do now?”

“We go back to my house, and regroup. Maybe being away from here will help clear your head. We can go over everything else we know so far, and see if we can find any connections we missed.”

He opens the car door for me, and I climb in. I sit in the car while he goes back to the house to set the alarm and lock the door. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re missing something important. But Zain is right. I need to get away from here, put some space between me and this house.

When he joins me in the car, I close my eyes and lean my head back against the seat. The rhythm of the drive—accelerating, turning, stopping— is oddly soothing. The outside world slides by, while inside, I remain in this bubble of controlled movement and engineered noise.

"You okay?" Zain breaks the silence after a few minutes.

I open my eyes and turn to look at him. "I don't know. I feel like I'm losing my mind."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I'm certain there was someone else there, but I can't remember who or why or ... anything concrete. What if I'm just making it up?"

He shakes his head. "You're not making it up."

There’s not really anything else I can say, so I look out the window. The familiar streets of Whitstone pass by, but they feel different now.

Everything feels different. It all keeps coming back to that.

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