Page 41 of Help Me Remember

She smiled at the insinuation. “It was my grandfather’s. He died a few years back. I was his only grandkid. I’m sure he probably thought he would give it to a grandson, but the day I got through basic training, he gifted it to me. It’s a little old-fashioned, but it keeps his memory alive. So I carry it with me all the time, right above my heart. Cheesy? Probably.”

“No,” I said quickly, earning a surprised look from Eric. “Not cheesy.”

“From you, that makes sense,” she chuckled.

Patterson stood up and motioned to Eric. “You might as well come with me. I’ll find an unused conference room you can make yourself comfortable in while you wait.”

“Uh,” Eric said, glancing toward me as he stood up. “Sure. Lead the way.”

Patterson took him without another word, giving me a sharp glance before they disappeared. Although we were reasonably safe in the police station, I still felt a strong sense of unease at being separated from Eric. In only twenty-four hours, I’d realized how capable and vulnerable he was and until things were settled, I wasn’t going to be comfortable being away from him.

As I waited for Officer Fitz to return, I busied my hands shredding the Styrofoam cup. If I was the person the Los Muertos member had referred to, there was still a chance my face hadn’t ended up in any photographic records. Even if it had, the officer herself had said the software was still coming into its own, so there was a chance it would still miss me. Just in case that happened, I didn’t want to leave DNA behind, and shredding the cup was the first step.

It probably would have seemed paranoid to Eric, but I would take paranoia any day so long as it kept me out of trouble or at least staved it off a bit longer.

I had the tiny pieces swept into my hand, which I balled into a fist at my side by the time Officer Fitz returned. “Okay, so the captain is on board. It probably helps that we have a slow week right now. We’ll get an official picture and send it off to see what pops up. Are you ready?”

“Lead the way,” I said, gesturing with my free hand as I stood up. “Though a bathroom stop would be appreciated.”

“Lucky for you, it’s on the way,” she said, smiling over her shoulder. Despite my misgivings about being there, I had to admit I kind of liked the woman. There was something kind in her that reminded me a lot of Eric, but I suspected she was tougher than she let on.

A curtain of thick, auburn hair cascaded down around my face, tickling my shoulders as it spilled onto the pillow under my head. The smell of leather and lilacs filled my nostrils, and I saw the wicked grin that made my heart flutter. I reached up to slip my hands into the thick waves of her hair, eager to pull her down, my lips forming the shape of her name as I—

Officer Fitz’s voice cut into the sudden haze. “Dylan?”

I realized I was leaning against the wall of the hallway she had led me down, my headache growing thicker. I shook my head, annoyed that I couldn’t remember the name I swore I’d been about to speak. “Yeah, right. Sorry, here.”

Her brow furrowed, and she stepped closer. “You’re looking a little pale. Are you alright?”

I cleared my throat as I returned to reality, the smell of perfume replaced by burned coffee and lemon floor cleaner. “Yeah, just…kinda got lost there for a second.”

She cocked her head. “Something come bubbling up?”

“Just a…just a piece. A woman with red hair.”

“Red hair, huh? She a friend, family…or something else?”

I could still feel the slide of her smooth skin against my body and cleared my throat. “Something else…I think.”

“Oh, well, maybe you’ve got someone waiting for you,” she said, sounding hopeful.

Almost immediately I tasted bile in the back of my throat and could smell iron-rich blood and the burn of gunpowder. Wincing, I shook my head. “Maybe. Can I get to that bathroom now?”

The look of concern on her face was only making me feel worse. Along with the torrent of sensations and smells came a strong sense of guilt, shame, and horror. The very same feelings that had plagued so many of my dreams, so it was a relief when she backed up and pointed to a nearby door.

I was careful to make sure I didn’t run and even more careful not to lurch when I entered the bathroom. It was only after I was sure the two stalls were empty that I finally let myself slump against one of the sinks, holding myself up with shaky arms. Looking in the mirror, I saw that she wasn’t kidding, I was pale, and it looked like the worst of ghosts had just passed from my wide eyes and trembling lips.

I raised one hand to wipe my mouth and found the Styrofoam shreds still in my hand. That little piece of reality, a reminder of what I had originally intended to do, helped steady me. Ignoring the urinals, I walked into one of the stalls, doing what I had pretended I needed to do and throwing the pieces into the toilet to flush them away.

Washing my face and hands, I looked myself over as I pulled out the paper towel to dry off. I was still looking a little weak and shaky, but at least I no longer looked as haunted.

I stepped out into the hallway to find Fitz waiting, her eyes darting over me. “You okay?”

“Yeah, that just hit me like a ton of bricks,” I said with a shaky laugh.

“That the first time that’s happened?”

“I’ve gotten…a couple of things here and there. But that’s twice in one day I’ve been hit hard, and that was the hardest,” I admitted, unsure why I was telling her. It was probably the easiest topic to talk about at this point, however, and I was still feeling a little off-balance from the sudden memory.

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