Page 10 of Storm Surge

It was his voice. Hearing it threatened to release snippets of memories from their hiding place. If she let that happen, she’d wouldn’t be able to put those frighteningly dark and shrouded memories back. And she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to face them.

Nothing about this man who appeared to know her was familiar. Just his voice. There was something in it that reached down deep, past the walls she’d built to protect herself from the truth. But what truth? “I’m so sorry,” she said softly, then noticed the wedding ring on his left finger. When he caught her staring at it, she looked away. “What did you need to ask me about my father?”

He hesitated so long that her attention returned to his face. The depth of pain there reminded her of—she couldn’t pull it out of her memory. Since the accident, her past had become a blank slate. Her childhood. Growing up here. Her college years. Everything before she woke up in her bed here at the cabin was blank. If it hadn’t been for Aunt Betty and her father, she would have no idea who she was.

“How long have you lived here?” he asked curiously.

The question took her by surprise. It was not what she expected. “I beg your pardon?”

The color of his hair tugged at a memory. Dark, but not quite black. There were bits of color running through it like sunlight dancing off. . .the rest wouldn’t come out.

“How long have you lived here at this cabin with your aunt and father?”

“My father doesn’t live here.” The words were out before she could stop them.

He appeared surprised by the admission. “Your father doesn’t stay here with you?” There was something more going on here than what she knew. Something she didn’t understand.

“Why do you want to know about my father? What do you think he’s done?” Her hands clasped the edge of the rocker, as if she were bracing herself.

There was always something about her father that made her uneasy. He’d been nothing but kind and loving since she woke up in this cabin after almost dying in the car accident that claimed her memory. The image of the man her father had killed appeared uninvited in her head. Jamie suppressed a shiver.

“We have questions for him. It’s imperative that we find him quickly. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”

Jamie stared at Will and tried to read what he wasn’t saying. “Who was that other man?”

Will held her gaze. “What other man?”

“The one with my father? The man who died. Who was he?” She wanted to know his name.

“We’re not sure yet.” It wasn’t quite the truth.

She sighed at his answer. People were always keeping things from her. Her father. Aunt Betty. They believed because of what she’d gone through, she was too fragile to handle the truth. In reality, it only made her want to know the answers more. “But you know,” she pressed.

Surprise flashed followed by a smile, and he nodded. “I believe the man that was with your father is Edward Buckley. He would be your grandfather.”

The ground threatened to open up and swallow her. She couldn’t believe it. That man had hurt her. She didn’t understand how, but somehow Edward Buckley—her grandfather—had hurt her terribly. “That’s not possible.” She couldn’t let it be true. “My father would have told me if I had a grandfather who was alive.”

What she said seemed to disturb him, but he answered, “As I said, we don’t have an ID yet. It could take a while.” He visually regrouped. “You didn’t answer my question.”

She pulled her thoughts together with difficulty and struggled to recall the question. He wanted to know how long she’d lived here in the cabin. But how could she tell him what she didn’t know? Those years before and after the accident were blurred. She squinted at the fire as if the answer would somehow magically appear. “I’m not sure.”

He saw what she couldn’t hide. “You don’t remember how long you’ve lived here?”

“I had an accident several years back. My memory isn’t good.”

He digested what she’d told him. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “What can you tell me about your father?”

The darkness tried to reach out and take hold. While frightening images threatened to poke out from her damaged memory, she fought hard to keep them away. “No.” She wasn’t aware of saying the word aloud. Jamie fought with the strength she’d sharpened through the years to keep it from taking life.

“No?” He stared at her with a quizzical expression on his face.

“I’m sorry. I was thinking of something else.” Jamie gathered in a breath. Tried to steady her voice. “My father is a good man.” She realized the answer came more as a question because she didn’t really know the man who claimed to be her father. When he was with her, their conversations were of no substance. He told her he worked for an international oil company. He traveled most of the year. She could count on one hand the number of times he’d visited, and those had all been strained. Everything she knew about the man had come from her aunt.

“Who did you say you were with?” She didn’t recall.

“I’m working for the president. Are you aware of what’s been happening in the country, the world?”

Though she worked as a computer programmer, her aunt believed the things that went on in the world would only cause more harm than good. Betty didn’t have a television in the place. Jamie never ventured to look on the internet beyond the security software programs she worked on. Until now, she hadn’t been concerned about what lay beyond the walls of her safe haven. Now, she needed to know. “What’s happening?”

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