| |
“I’m sorry,” Sandy says as she rushes through the door of the police room. “I came as quickly as I could, but traffic was something awful.” She sweeps by the officer holding open the door and nearly trips on the carpet. I’m out of the cement room at least. The mental health liaison I finally met said I shouldn’t have ever been set up in the interrogation rooms in the first place, explaining that I have to forgive Detective Drisklay, who sometimes forgets the difference between victims and suspects.
I’m not ashamed to confess that I had a complete breakdown while the detective was questioning me. As soon as I realized this meeting wasn’t about my dad, I stopped focusing on my own survival and understood that everything the police were telling me was true. Mom is gone. So is Chris. Killed.
By the same person who attacked me and left me with nothing but long-term memories.
Drisklay couldn’t handle my tears or decipher my sobs, so he pulled the liaison out of whatever it was that she was doing. She was the one who moved us to this more comfortable room and asked if there was anybody I could call. I thought about my dad but decided on Sandy and gave the woman the name of our church.
Now Sandy’s here, smothering me in hugs and tears. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this, sweetie. I can’t even begin to guess how hard this must be for you.”
I’ve told the liaison about my headache. She’s going to pull up my medical files to see if I’m on any pain killers. Until then, she tells me to take three Tylenol. It seems like a lot to me, but I’m not going to argue.
Sandy’s been fretting over me and praying over me since she came in. I think Drisklay and the liaison know it’s time to back off a little on the questioning.
Once I stop crying, I’m able to put my thoughts into some sort of logical order, or at least I try to. Mom is dead. Not only dead but murdered. The police haven’t given me any more information than that, so I have no idea if she was shot, if she was strangled, drowned. Maybe she was stabbed and left in that cabin to bleed out, terrified and alone ...
Then they tell me Chris was a suspect at one point, which is absolutely ridiculous, but I can’t be upset about that because now it’s come out that he’s one of the victims. Found in the lake just this morning. The lake by our cabin ...
But that’s not all. I’ve also learned in the past twenty minutes that I’ve been the victim of a terrible assault that’s robbed me of any ability to form short-term memories. Sandy tells me that every morning I wake up and imagine it’s senior skip day all over again. Like that Adam Sandler movie, except there’s absolutely nothing funny about my situation. Nothing funny at all.
I have all my memories from before the attack, but Drisklay needs answers about what happened that day. Everyone assumes I was an eyewitness to the crime and that I should be able to give them a name to find justice for the ones I’ve lost.
Except my mind is a complete blank. It’s not as if I have a vague memory of that day but just run into difficulties pulling up details. It’s as if that day never happened at all. I’m so confused, and I know Sandy’s trying to help, but she’s fretting over me so much now I feel like I’ll suffocate.
“The doctors thought you’d recover in a week or two at most,” she’s telling me. “It’s been so hard for your family.”
“I want to go home,” I state, but Drisklay shakes his head.
“Not possible,” he states flatly.
“What about with me?” Sandy asks. “What if I took her to my home for the night? She needs sleep. All this stress can’t be good for her.”
Drisklay frowns as if considering. “If she saw the perp and could give us an ID ...”
“I keep telling you I don’t remember anything.”
Sandy gives me another squeeze.
“I believe you.” It’s possibly the very first thing Drisklay’s said to me all evening that makes me even think he might be on my side. “But it doesn’t matter what I think. If the culprit assumes you have information ...” He doesn’t finish his thought. I imagine that I should be able to connect the dots myself, but I’m so tired and my head hurts too much.
I’m thankful when Sandy finishes for him. “You think Mia could be in danger?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“But she’s been safe these past few months, right?” Sandy asks positively.
Drisklay shrugs. “That was when Gomez was our suspect.”
“Oh.” Sandy looks at me. “Well, she needs to sleep somewhere. And as far as I can tell, my place is as safe as any.”
He shakes his head. “Can’t do that.”
Sandy straightens her back. “And why not?”
“Because if she goes to sleep now, she wakes up in the morning and we have to go over this entire ordeal all over again.”
I blink, finally understanding. Is this what it means to suffer the degree of short-term memory loss that I have? That every day I’m destined to wake up and have to learn all over again that the people I love are dead? And that somewhere out there is a man who tried to kill me once and may return at any point to finish the job?
“But you can’t keep her awake forever,” Sandy protests.
“It’s okay,” I interrupt.
She turns to look at me as if she’d forgotten I possess the capacity for human speech.
“It’s okay,” I repeat. “I can stay awake. Maybe it’ll ...” I glance at Drisklay. “Maybe it’ll help me remember.”
Now Sandy’s the one frowning, and the detective’s scowl looks one shade less grumpy.
“What about photos?” I ask. “Something that might help trigger the memories? Do you think something like that might work?”
Drisklay tosses his Styrofoam cup into the trash and studies me. I can’t tell from his expression if he’s surprised, impressed, or plotting my execution.
“Are you sure, honey?” Sandy whispers. “This has been a stressful day ...”
“And tomorrow’s going to be just as stressful,” I remind her. The thought of waking up every single morning only to rediscover the shock that it’s not my senior class trip, that my mother and boyfriend are dead ... I can’t handle that. I have to help the detective as much as I can tonight.
“But eventually you’ll need to sleep,” Sandy persists, so I tell her when I’m tired, I’ll take a break.
“Right now,” I conclude decisively, “all I need to do is help the detective solve this case. Which means I need to remember everything.”