Page 5 of Ghosts From Christmas Past

Dylan fired up the SUV and pulled away from the curb. Bitter Creek was a small town of barely five thousand, yet for him it would always be home.

After Henry retired, the sheriff’s department consisted of Dylan and one deputy, Dylan’s good friend, Jesse Walker. Dylan had recently hired a second deputy, Sam Crenshaw. The loss of Charlie and her family was still the worst crime ever to happen in Bitter Creek history, and it had left its mark on everyone in the town.

Dylan covered the short distance to the Whispering Pines. As he drove, he dialed the phone number of his friend, Mayor Chambers.

“Don’t tell me you’re cancelling on our meeting tonight?” Mayor Chambers had figured out the reason for the call right away. It didn’t hurt that Dylan had canceled the last two meetings because of work.

He swallowed hard. “Sorry, Frank, but I’m afraid I’ll have to reschedule.” The reason tumbled out of his mouth.

“You’re kidding? Charlie’s awake. Well, I’ll be,” Frank said with a smile in his voice.

Everyone around Bitter Creek knew the story of Charlie. Most knew about Dylan’s and Charlie’s marriage. Everyone at the church her father had once pastored had been praying for her through the years.

“Yeah, I’m on my way there now.” He told Frank about Charlie’s lack of memory.

“Oh, man, that’s a rough one, but I’m sure in time it’ll come back. It would be fitting if her parents’ deaths could be solved this Christmas.”

“It would.” Dylan’s thoughts splintered in a dozen different directions. “Anyway, I’m going to stop by and see her. I’m hoping I can help her get her memories back and maybe solve the case.”

“It would be a true blessing if she could have some closure. If the both of you could.”

“Thanks, Frank. I’ll have Stella reschedule.” He ended the call and drove the rest of the way to the facility while his heart pounded in his ears, his hands sweaty on the wheel. If he were this torn up before he even saw her, he couldn’t imagine what he’d be like once he gazed on his Charlie after eight years of watching her sleep.

Chapter Two

Charlotte stared at the photo Dr. Montgomery had given her earlier. Two people captured in a moment of time. Her parents. Strangers to her in every way—nothing about them familiar—yet they’d died while she lived. There had to be a reason. She should remember the people closest to her. Why couldn’t she?

The doctor had urged her not to be discouraged. He was convinced her memories would return. She’d been through a traumatic event and her brain was still processing everything, yet he wasn’t existing in a world without a past or a future. She was. At twenty-five, Charlotte couldn’t imagine living the rest of her life in this constant state of limbo.

He’d told her that while she had no living relatives, a couple of people she went to school with visited her regularly. Her close friend from high school, Dylan Parker, stopped in several times a week to check on her. Her friend. Charlotte tried to picture him, but she had no idea what he looked like.

Hopelessness settled around her as she stared at the couple in the photo and willed something, even if it was the tiniest of memory, to break free. Not giving into the desperation was a near-impossible feat, yet feeling sorry for herself was a futile effort. Charlotte had to hold onto Dr. Montgomery’s reassurances. Someday she would remember these people in the photo and when she did, with God’s help, she’d pull the killer’s face out of her blank memory and bring him to justice for her parents.

Someone came into the room.

“Charlie?” A gravelly male voice spoke from the doorway. Charlotte whirled toward the sound.

A man stood there with shock on his face. Tall, fit. Handsome. His chestnut hair touched his collar. Endless blue eyes were filled with questions. Dressed in a sheriff’s uniform, he fidgeted with the Stetson hat in his hand. That he knew her was easy to see.

She swallowed. Couldn’t take her eyes off him. Something about him tugged at her hidden memory.

“I. . . can’t believe it. After all these years, you’re awake.” He slowly came into the room a few steps at a time. When he reached her side, he leaned down and hugged her close. A familiar gesture of greeting a friend, yet she tensed. She should know him, but she didn’t.

He must have sensed her uncertainty because he let her go.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, taking it for granted that she knew him. Still inches away, when he looked into her eyes, something inexplicably had her heart going crazy.

“Who are you?” she asked with a frown, her voice unsteady. She did know him. She just wasn’t sure how.

He straightened and put some distance between them. “I’m sorry. For a moment I forgot about your memory.” His tone sounded hurt.

The six-point Bitter County Sheriff’s badge captured her attention. He didn’t look old enough to have been the one to respond to her attack all those years ago.

Before she could ask, Dr. Montgomery came into the room.

“Ah, there you are, Dylan. I thought I saw your patrol car pull up.” The doctor stopped next to the younger man who was a good six inches taller. “Charlotte, this is Dylan Parker. You remember me telling you about Dylan? You two were good friends in high school.” The doctor and Dylan exchanged a look she didn’t understand, yet she sensed something was left unsaid.

She focused on Dylan’s face. Sensed a much deeper connection between them.

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