Page 45 of Mangled Memory
The second time they do, I can’t decipher the expression on his face. “What? Do you need me to get a nurse?”
He shakes his head slowly, his eyes studying me. “Ayla, there’s nobody on the cameras.” He turns the phone to face me. “Every motion sensor sends a signal and timestamps the system. The cameras show all clear from the moment the ambulance left.”
No. No. No. No. No.
I saw it.Isawthem.
I shake my head. “Christian, I saw them on that full wall of screens. They were in all black and never faced the cameras. It was after Fitz left.”
They’re why I grabbed the gun. I leave that part out.
“I’ll have Fitz review footage, but there’s no sign inside or out of movement after midnight, aside from my gurney being lifted and Fitz’s following ten minutes behind.”
Ten minutes? Was it only ten minutes?
“What about him leaving your office before that?”
He turns back to the phone and rolls his fingers across the screen. When his face turns back to mine, sadness mars his features.
“He never entered or left my office.” His eyes drop and the playfulness from earlier is gone.
What the hell is going on?
Me: I swear I’m not losing my mind. Or maybe I am.
Me: You’d tell me, right?
I stare at my phone hoping Halley answers or, at a minimum, for some reassurance that I’m not stark raving mad.
When no bubbles appear, I do what has become my default. I toggle to Picstagram and flip to the Aspen & Evergreen feed.
Somewhere deep inside, I hope my brain connects the dots… beauty to memory or memory to remembrance. I’d do anything to make those pathways reengage.
I scroll all the way to the bottom, which is no small feat. The first image is a still in full color. The geo tag says Estes Park, but I don’t recognize it, except for having scrolled these shots before.
What’s worse is not the date stamp, which links to the shop but the copy indicates I took it long before this window of darkness. Apparently, my memory gaps are not just based on time, but also include random holes on random things?
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Me: Are you available to chat? I need you.
My phone vibrates in my hand and I quietly leave Christian’s hospital room and wander the halls, since he finally fell back to sleep. How anyone is supposed to heal and rest with all the noise, lights, and motion in this place is anyone’s guess.
“Hey.” My voice comes out on a choked whisper, as if all thestress has knotted into a ball in my throat, making it nearly impossible to swallow.
“Ayla-girl.” Liam’s voice is warm and gruff.
“I’m not crazy, right?”
“Where is this coming from?”
“You didn’t answer. Tell me I’m not mental.” I slide down the wall to rest on my butt in the too-bright hall.
“And I’m supposed to mean it?” His chuckle dies when a sob rips from my throat.
“What’s going on Ayla?”
I look around, cautious now that things are even less stable than what they previously seemed.
