Page 6 of Please Remember

"Explain something to me one last time, Allie," he says. "Why did you go to the house instead of the police station? Especially given your supposed memory loss."

"Supposed memory loss?" I retort with a dry laugh. "You are really unpleasant, you know that?"

What am I doing? I shouldn’t be instigating them. It’s better to keep quiet, but I can’t help it around him. He’s insufferable.

Shields turns her head to hide her smile, but I catch it. It seems I'm not the only one who feels this way. To his credit, Parsons looks contrite and says, "I apologize, Allie. I didn't mean to offend you. In my line of work, I tend to expect people to be dishonest."

"I have no reason to be dishonest. Trust me, I want to remember. But to answer your question, again, I got out of the woods on instinct. I had no idea where I was going, and I couldn't see much of anything, but I got myself out. When I recognized the street, I decided to follow my gut. It may not have been the conventional method, and I'm not evensure if it was the right decision or not, but it was the only thing that felt familiar."

"You weren't worried?" Shields asks. "What if you remembered the house because the person who did this lived there?"

"The person who did this could live there," Parsons adds.

Now it’s my turn to stare in disbelief, as I tilt my head to the side. "You think Jax did this?"

"He's our most likely suspect."

"Then why would he immediately call you and bring me here?" I ask, trying to follow his logic.

"To throw suspicion. He’ll want to keep you close to be certain your memory really has disappeared. Or maybe he feels remorse. He could have deliberately given you a chance to escape, but now he wants to make sure you don't recognize him. There are many possibilities."

My gaze shifts to Shields who doesn't appear as convinced as he is. "Then just put me back in the basement. It seems as though you want to have him as the person who did this. A quick open and shut investigation? Don't think I didn't catch the undertone of the questions you asked. You tried to lead me in his direction without saying it, but the truth is, he's taller than you. And wider than you, too. There is no way he was the person dressed head to toe in black who came to bring me food every day."

"It doesn't mean he isn't working with this person. Assuming this person exists."

"And now we're back to disbelieving me,” I say, tossing my arms in the air slightly, flinching at the pull of the IVs. “You volley back and forth between Jax doing this and me faking it with the clear implication I locked myself up for seven years. I want to know who did this and why, and I'm going to be very honest with you, Detective Parsons. I don't feellike youreallycare. All you’ve done since you walked in here is dismiss everything I’ve told you, just because it doesn’t fit into the neat little box you’ve created in your head. Strangely enough, I don’t believe that I'll ever get the answers I need while you're working this case."

His eyes widen in surprise at my outburst, and even Shields has a look of shock. I'm not sure why I feel so defensive of Jax. And the thought I'm faking this and pretending I don't remember anything is not only frustrating, it's also rather offensive. Does he honestly believe this is something a sane person would do to themselves? Disappear in an underground bunker of sorts for seven years, malnourished and never seeing the sun, only to pretend they have no idea who the hell they are.

"Allie, I apologize if I offended you—"

"I don't believe you're sincere. I may not have a say in whether or not you're the one investigating this, but I don't know that I want to cooperate any further. It’s clear I'm not going to give you whatever it is you're looking for to fit your agenda. I also find it extremely insensitive to continue to imply I'd do this to myself. That points to some type of mental instability, and I don't believe that's me. The doctor may disagree, and I'll believe him, but I don't trust you much at all."

Detective Shields holds a hand up. "I think there are a lot of high emotions right now—"

"I'm not interested in your good cop, bad cop routine. I just want to know what happened to me and why. And who did it. That's it. But I do not trust him at all," I say and point at Parsons. "I'd like Jax to come back in here now."

"Of course," she says, cutting off whatever Parsons planned to say as his mouth opens.

She walks to the door, and I glare at the bald man who makes me so angry I want to hit something. It's strange because aside from fear, I don't remember ever feeling any other emotion.

"Are you okay?" Jax asks, hurrying into the room with his tie undone. "What's wrong?"

I point to the male detective. "I don't like him."

"He's not exactly my favorite, either, but he's supposed to be the best."

"At what? Forcing false confessions?" I snap. "He's convinced it's you. Or it's me. There's very little belief any other way, and he thinks I'm faking. That I really do remember and just want everyone to believe I don't."

Just as I finish my tirade, Dr. Westmore walks into the room wearing a white jacket and holding an X-ray in his hand. He's an attractive man with light hair and a strong jaw with high cheekbones. He's a little pudgy around the middle, but overall, not the worst looking man I've seen since I've been here.

"Her amnesia is real," Dr. Westmore says as he slides the image onto the lighted box. "You see this jagged crack here?"

As Jax and the two detectives look at the X-ray, I reach up to trace the mark on my head with my fingers. "I remember,” I say in a whispered tone. “It was the only time they were there more than once a day. They treated the injury and gave me pain relievers."

"It's a six-inch remodeled break that really should have had staples. It wasn't treated by a medical professional in a clinic or hospital. This accounts for the lack of memory of everything prior to the abduction."

"Is it permanent?" I ask, my stomach sinking.

---