Page 70 of Help Me Remember

“Matt was being quiet and wouldn’t talk to me. The captain was losing his mind and locked himself in his office. And then, just as I’m ready to go home, I get a call and guess what, it’s the goddamn FBI,” she said, looking at me. “Looking for you. Or the man they referred to as Riley Rynfield. Seems like that picture I took went to a database alright, but not the one I was expecting.”

“No, I imagine you weren’t,” I said quietly, trying not to look at Eric.

“You were, though, weren’t you?” she asked.

“Let’s just say it doesn’t come as much of a surprise to me.”

“You’ll explain after I’m done?”

“Yeah.”

She took a deep breath. “I was a little surprised to see how buried the information on you was. But I managed to scrounge up some nuggets after I told the FBI what I knew. Before they showed up, I knew you were Russian Mafia and not just some low-level thug. There’s been a lot of shake-ups, but you were one of the names in line to take one of the upper spots, their version of captains, I guess. Right up there with the big man himself’s kid, Gabriel.”

The name zinged through me, and I remembered the Los Muertos honcho who’d mentioned the name in connection to me. Frowning, I felt my nose itch as the smell of some expensive cologne filled my nose, and I swore I felt a hand on my thigh. Stiffening, the itch turned into a burn and an ache as the sulfuric smell of gunpowder took over the cologne, and I had to close my eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” Fitz asked sharply.

I shook my head gently, resisting the urge to wave at her. “Just…that’s a name that means something…I guess.”

“Another thing you’ll explain later?”

“Can’t. Unless you think me remembering cologne, gunpowder, and a weird feeling of fear and anger in my gut is worth explaining.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said slowly.

“You’re pale,” Eric added, and for a moment I was glad I could hear worry in his voice. It wouldn’t last much longer, though, because I knew reality would reassert itself. He’d remember what she told us about Riley, about what sort of person I was before I woke up in that dirty, abandoned building.

“Just a little dizzy,” I said, motioning to her. “Go on.”

“Well, you can imagine my surprise when I realized I pretty much had one of the biggest names of one of the nastiest international crime groups at my desk,” she said, her nostrils flaring.

“Try in your bed,” Eric muttered, too quiet for her to hear.

I kept my expression neutral even as the pain that shot through my chest left me wondering if it might be kinder to get stabbed.

“I guess I was pretty ambitious,” I said quietly.

“I thought I was going to help, but the FBI showed up and…they asked me questions and then left me out of the loop.”

“It’s the FBI,” Eric said with a scathing tone I knew had nothing to do with her now. He also refused to look at me as he leaned forward, which I instinctively knew he would have done before. “They can do that.”

“But they don’t, not normally,” she shot back. “I don’t care what you’ve seen in movies, the FBI doesn’t just show up and bully local cops, not even for something like this. They demanded what files we had, asked a couple of questions of everyone, and took up residence in one of our conference rooms.”

“You were stonewalled?” I said, straightening in curiosity. “It was still in your jurisdiction, especially with the grand theft auto and arson, and I’m sure your partner could have thrown in attempted assault with a deadly weapon.”

“Yeah,” she said, eyeing me with curiosity.

“They ignored all protocol.”

“They…did.”

“For me?”

“They did,” she said, looking me over. “You know more than you let on.”

“I know things, but that doesn’t mean I remember why I know those things,” I said with a wince. “Trust me, it’s more irritating and confusing to live through than to deal with from the outside.”

“He’s not lying,” Eric said in a tight voice as he stared at the table. “Whatever…whatever he was before all this, he still doesn’t have his memory.”

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