Page 80 of Help Me Remember

Eric.

So, I didn’t care when they practically dragged me into a police station and into this room where I was poked and prodded. I had been shot twice at some point but hadn’t noticed. The bullet in my arm had been dug out, the wound cleaned and sewn shut, and the other was just a deep graze on my other side. It turned out I had also aggravated my original injury, but I couldn’t recall ever noticing.

Eric.

I honestly had no idea how they convinced everyone I didn’t need to go to the hospital first. I spared a thought for the mystery long enough to realize the FBI had to be involved for that kind of weight to be swung around so easily. Apparently, they thought so long as I wasn’t in immediate danger of dying, then I was fit to sit in a freezing interrogation room and wait for them to grill me.

Eric.

The clock above the one-way glass was how I knew I’d been in the room for nearly three hours. Half that time I was being fussed over by the medics, and the rest I spent sitting in the chair, hands in my lap, staring at the table. Twice someone had come in to ask if I wanted some water, but I had said nothing, keeping my vigil with the small dent in the center of the table.

Eric.

I heard the door open again, and I wondered if they would offer me another glass of water or maybe coffee this time. Instead, a man dressed in a trim suit marched in, closing the door behind him. He walked up to the table and dropped a thick folder between us. It covered up the dent I’d been focused on, and I frowned in annoyance.

“Agent Harkins,” he said by way of introduction.

Eric.

“Now,” he continued, taking the seat opposite me, “I’m going to attempt to be patient, but you have a lot of explaining to do.”

I said nothing.

After a few seconds, the agent opened the folder. “I’m trying to understand how this entire…debacle came about. You were supposed to come here for a few deals and then return to Chicago. Instead, you have managed, in no short amount of time, to set fire to a police station, steal at least two cars, assault a federal agent, start a gunfight in a crowded park, kill a police officer, and get yourself and others hurt.”

Eric. Eric. Eric.

I didn’t know what he wanted from me, but his last words caught my attention. I looked up from my lap to look at him. He was thin, with a pointed face and thick brows, reminding me of a scrawny owl.

“Eric,” I said slowly, feeling the pull in my chest that came every time I thought of him.

“Mr. Davis,” Agent Harkins said, glancing down at a page in front of him.

“Eric,” I repeated, summoning my brain to try to work for just this one moment. “You said…you said myself and others…got hurt.”

“I did…yes.”

“Hurt. Not killed.”

Agent Harkins blinked, folding his hands in front of him. “Both Officer Fitz and Mr. Davis, yes.”

“He’s…alive?” I asked, hearing the croak of my voice and the desperate plea stitched into every syllable.

Harkins’ brow furrowed. “Mr. Davis sustained serious injuries in the course of the…gunfight. I received an update moments before coming in here. He was hit in the neck, and the bullet nicked rather than directly striking his carotid artery. The damage was considerable, and I’m told it was touch and go during the ride to the hospital. They managed to keep him alive, though, and while he’s still under supervision, they are confident he’ll live.”

“Alive,” I said softly, feeling my heart race. “He’s…alive.”

He was badly injured and would probably be furious when he woke up, but he was alive. Relief, so enormous and pure that it stole my breath away, washed through me as I realized Eric would continue to live his life. He had been pulled in by my life, but he hadn’t been pulled under and drowned. Eric was alive, and he was going to be okay.

“Yes, Agent Levin, he’s alive,” Harkins said, arching a brow.

I went still, the ice-cold smack of shock hitting me. “Excuse me?”

Agent Harkins leaned in, peering at me. “So. What Officer Fitz reported was true?”

I slowly looked up at him, trying to understand and finding nothing. “What?”

“The amnesia. You remember nothing.”