Page 47 of Found By You
“I’m shorter than whoever drove this last,” I murmured, more to myself than to McCrae, who was watching from outside the car.
Then something caught my eye—a small silver charm hanging from the rearview mirror. It was partially hidden by the cracked mirror, but I could just make out its shape: a tiny bird.
“Look at this,” I said, reaching for it.
The moment my fingers touched the charm, a flash of memory hit me. I heard a woman’s laugh, followed by someone saying, “You always were free as a bird.”
I gasped, pulling my hand back as if burned.
“What is it?” McCrae was at my side in an instant, crouching by the open car door. “Did you remember something?”
“I remember someone saying, ‘You’re free as a bird.’” I closed my eyes, trying to grasp the fleeting memory, but it was gone, leaving only the echo. “I don’t know for sure. It just … it flashed in my mind when I touched this.” I pointed to the charm.
McCrae reached for it, carefully detaching it from the mirror. He placed it in my palm, closing my fingers over it. “Keep it. Maybe it’ll help trigger more memories.”
I nodded, clutching the small bird charm tightly. It was the first real connection I had to my past, and I wasn’t about to let it go.
We searched the rest of the car but found nothing else of note. As we walked back to McCrae’s cruiser, I felt both elated and terrified. I was trying to piece it all together. “So youdothink that T. Carter was a fake name?”
He nodded. “I do."
I held the charm tightly, trying in vain to remember something else.
The police station was bustling when we arrived. Officers moved about with purpose, phones rang, and the smell of coffee permeated the air. I felt suddenly self-conscious as heads turned in our direction.
Damon greeted us in his office, his expression serious as McCrae filled him in on our discovery at the impound lot. The office was small but neat, with awards and family photos decorating the walls. I recognized the Armstrong family in several of the frames.
“You remember the charm?” he asked.
I nodded. “I think so. It feels … familiar.” I smiled weakly. “Will you run more versions of T. Carter through the database?”
“Sure.” Damon’s expression softened slightly. “Given what you’ve found, I think it’s time we follow this lead,” he said, tapping his pen against the desk. “I want you two to head to Casper and check out Pete’s Trucking. Talk to Pete directly—find out everything he remembers.”
McCrae straightened. “Sounds good.”
“This is our first real lead. I’ve been thinking that if she sees Pete in person, maybe she’ll remember more.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s only a couple hours to Casper. You can make it there and back today if you leave now.”
McCrae looked at me. “You up for this?”
My heart raced. Casper was possibly where everything had started to go wrong. I was terrified, but I needed to know the truth. “Yes,” I said, my voice stronger than I felt. “Let’s go to Casper.”
Damon nodded, satisfied. “Good. Check in when you get there, and again when you’re heading back.” His eyes shifted between us, and I wondered if he could sense the growing connection between his brother and me. “And be careful. We still don’t know what—or who—she was running from.”
As we left the station, I felt a strange mix of hope and dread. What had happened to make me flee in a rental car under a fake name? The answers were waiting in Casper.
Chapter 23
McCrae
The winding mountain roads stretched before us as we headed toward Casper. I checked the rearview mirror out of habit, noting the empty road behind us. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this trip would change everything.
Sky sat beside me, her fingers nervously twisting that small silver bird charm we’d found in the car. She’d been quiet most of the drive, lost in her own thoughts.
“You okay?”
She startled slightly, as if I’d interrupted something important. “Just trying to remember,” she said, offering a weak smile. “It’s like reaching through fog for something you can barely see.”
I nodded, wishing I could do more to help her. Every protective instinct in me wanted to shield her from whatever had left her bruised and amnesia-stricken by the side of the road, but I knew that wasn’t my call to make. She deserved to know the truth about herself, even if that truth took her away from me.
