Page 32 of Find Me

“On that note, do you know what exactly led Hope to move here for her fresh start? I mean, there are probably easier places to live than the East End in the summer.”

“We came here together for a visit a couple of months ago. I was thinking about taking a rental. As it turned out, she was the one who fell in love and wanted to make the move. She loves being near a beach.”

“And why was that?”

Even though Lindsay didn’t owe the detective any further explanation, she stopped to ponder the question.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “But I noticed a long time ago that she seemed totally at peace whenever we were around water. I started wondering whether she might have grown up in a beach town. I pressured her to take a paddle-boarding lesson to see if perhaps it came naturally. The first big wave knocked her over, almost like she’d never even been in the ocean before.”

She suddenly imagined a map of America, Kansas smack-dab in the very oceanless middle. Maybe the trauma that had led to Hope’s memory loss had originated in Kansas. Maybe something involving guns, explaining Hope’s reaction at the shooting range. Someone had finally found her in Hopewell—a stranger spending too much time at the restaurant, asking too many questions. Her instincts told her to leave...

She realized she hadn’t been listening to Decker. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You said she liked being on the water,” Decker said. “But she wasn’t a good swimmer? Did you spend any time in the water when you took that trip here together?”

“We went on a fishing trip. I was surprised she wanted to go.”

“So it was her idea? Maybe she used to fish... in her former life.”

Surprisingly, Lindsay noted no sarcasm in his voice.

“She never expressed an interest,” she said. “We had tons of fishing not far from Hopewell, but she said it was more about wanting to be out on a boat.”

“Did she keep up with it?” Decker asked. “The fishing, I mean? Or any other activities? Might be helpful to talk to any people out here who got to know her.”

“It’s not like she could afford regular fishing excursions with a guide,” Lindsay said. “But she was a semi-regular at Rowdy Hall. A bartender named Joe said Hope asked him to walk her to her car once. She was worried someone was following her. It lines up with what her boss said.”

“I know Joe,” Decker said. “I’ll swing by and have a talk with him.”

“Really?” Lindsay asked.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Decker said. “I never thought that DNA hit was any kind of smoking gun, but like I said, I’m looking for your friend. If nothing else, maybe Joe can point me in the direction of other locals who might have known her.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Lindsay was about to hang up, unsure what else to say, when Decker asked another question. “Oh hey, I was thinking about taking my dad on a fishing trip the next time he visits. Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, I guess. For us it was more about the experience than actually learning how to fish.”

“But did you catch anything?”

“A seven-pound blackfish, in fact.” Granted, it was some teenager on the boat who actually caught it, but close enough.

He let out a whistle. “Which shop did you use?”

She pursed her lips, trying to remember. “Hope found it on Yelp. It had some kind of pun in the name.”

“Reel Deal Fishing?” Decker asked.

“That sounds right.”

Decker thanked her for the recommendation and assured her againthat he was going to reach out to Joe the bartender. At last it seemed that the detective might finally be taking her concerns seriously. But as she hung up, Lindsay found herself remembering that horrible Sunday afternoon two Novembers before. She and Scott were eating burgers and drinking bloodies at J.G. Melon when Scott’s cell buzzed on the table, the wordMomappearing at the top of the screen. Scott’s dad, in the city for an engineering conference at the Grand Hyatt, was in an ambulance headed to Lenox Hill. A heart attack.

The nurse at the front desk assured them there was no Ned Parker in the computer. Annoyed at the request that she double-check, she began listing all the other hospitals in Manhattan, insisting that Scott and Lindsay were in the wrong place. Lindsay was the one to suggest that they probably beat the ambulance to the hospital and would wait a few minutes, if that was okay.

When the nurse found them in the waiting room to confirm that Scott’s father had in fact just arrived, she seemed like a different person. Her voice was low and kind. Her face even seemed softer somehow. “The doctors will be ready to see you in a little while.”

Lindsay said nothing, but she’d taken Scott’s hand in hers, knowing that he would soon learn that his father was gone. And now Lindsay realized that the shift in Detective Decker’s attitude wasn’t necessarily a good sign.

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