Page 2 of The Caretaker
“It’s been two years today,” she said with pride.
“Have you seen me here before? Would’ve been nine months ago to be exact. Actually, hang on a sec.” I pulled the folder I’d brought with me from my satchel, flipping past Stacey’s photos and withdrawing one of me. “This is how I look on a good day.” I hadn’t had a good day in a while. “Do you recognize this man?” I surely didn’t. That man had a fresh shave and wore a smile that said he was ready to take on the world.
She gave me an odd look, probably not getting why it mattered whether or not she’d seen me in there before or why I couldn’t confirm that information for myself.
“I was in a car accident. I’m having trouble recalling things that happened in the past, but I recently came across this receipt in some of my things that were salvaged from the crash.” I fished the tattered piece of paper from my pocket and held it out to her. “It proves I was here the night before the accident. I don’t remember ever stepping foot in this town, though.”
“I’ve never seen you before,” she said, studying both the photo and the receipt, “but we’re the closest restaurant off the highway and tend to get a lot of foot traffic in here because of it. Especially on weekends. Kind of makes it hard to remember faces.”
“Thanks,” I said, slumping in my seat.
“Maybe Trisha remembers,” she said, pity in her eyes. She called Trisha over, but she’d barely glanced at the image before confirming that she’d never seen me before either.
I showed them both a photo of Stacey, feeling desperate now. “Do you recognize this woman? She wouldn’t have been here with me that day, but maybe we visited Haley Cove together some other time.”
Liz’s brows furrowed in concentration. Trisha didn’t even try to hide her boredom. I withdrew another photo. This one was a close-up of her.
“Here’s a better one,” I said, but Liz shook her head. Trisha shrugged.
“Maybe she came in before I started working here,” Trisha drawled, grinding away at her bubble gum.
“Maybe,” I replied, feeling drained of energy and hope. “Thanks anyway.”
“Yeah, sure,” she said flatly, leaving me alone with Liz.
“I’ll get your order in,” Liz said, tapping her pen against the pad of paper before sauntering off.
Frustrated, I shoved the photos and the receipt into my bag, then closed my eyes and focused on my breathing again. Oncecentered, I picked up the camera, preparing to take a few more pictures but deciding to review what I’d taken of the tavern so far first.
Zooming in on the woodwork along the bar top, and the exit sign above the back door, I meticulously went through each shot. Studies showed that the most innocuous things could trigger an amnesiac’s memory. Maybe I tripped and fell under the restroom sign when I was here last. Maybe I banged my knee under the bar top. Willing to do anything to regain what I’d lost, I refused to take anything for granted.
I scrolled to the last photo I’d taken and nearly fumbled the camera. My pulse quickened in unison with my spine straightening, and I swung my head up to find the booth on the other side of the tavern now empty. I frantically scanned the place, but the man who’d been sitting there was gone, only an empty wine glass and cash for the bill remained.
My breaths came in harsh, shallow puffs as I re-examined the photo with building hysteria. A blinding pain shot through my skull as I fought to latch on to…tosomething.I scooted out of the booth, turning in place, eyes flickering everywhere in desperate search of him.
I rushed for the entrance, almost knocking a server down in the process. “Sorry,” I said absently, ignoring the cautious stares everyone now aimed at me.
“Sir?” my waitress called. I vaguely registered her holding my drink as I tore through the door, coatless, the air billowing from my parted lips forming tiny clouds. The blustering wind cut through my shirt, and the icy snow pelted my face and neck as I searched the parking lot.
He couldn’t have driven off that fast.How many cars were here when I arrived?I didn’t know, hadn’t thought to count. Why hadn’t I counted? I counted now, but the total of four cars, three vans, and my truck meant nothing to me when I didn’tknow how many there were to begin with.How many were here?I spun in place, gripping the sides of my pounding head. How many? How many!?
Sprinting back inside, I grabbed Trisha by the elbow as she passed. “Th-the guy who was sitting over there. D-did you see him leave?” I stammered, too far gone to care about the flash of fear in her eyes.
The restrooms.I hadn’t checked the restrooms.I released her before she could answer, hurrying to the rear of the tavern where the flashing restroom sign taunted me. Turning the corner, I collided with the man from the photo, and my headache escalated to a teeth-grinding migraine.
Cornflower-blue eyes that were already too wide for his smooth, angular face, widened farther. They glistened, like maybe he’d been crying, and suddenly my problems became secondary to his.
“Are you alright?” I asked, forcing my panting breaths to slow while looking him over for signs of injury. He no longer wore his hair in a topknot, like he had in the picture. It now flowed down his back and shoulders, as though he’d yanked the blond tendrils free of their restraints.
“No. I’m not.” His voice was gentle and a tad breathless.
“No. I’m not.”
Those three words set off an alarm in me, and my blood rocketed through my veins as I tried to make sense of it. He slid his hands from mine. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding them.Shit. I had to get myself under control.
He stood there waiting as I did, his own control seeming to hang in the balance while he continued to stare at me. He appeared more stable than I did. He was a deer caught in headlights, frozen by the moment, while my mind flailed with my confusion.
“Have we…have we met before?” I asked, once able to speak. I tracked his every twitch, his lazy blinks, the rosy color rising in his cheeks. I followed the motion of his tongue swiping across his wine-stained lips. He was androgynous, beautiful, meek in a way that somehow complemented him, and the screeching in my brain grew louder.
