Sunday, June 12—9:30 p.m.
Ava took a deep breath as the nurse left her room. She had bounced back in the last few hours. She knew that from the way everything seemed clearer rather than a confusing cloud of sound. She also knew she was better by the fact that she didn’t want to constantly sleep and, most telling of all, she was now remembering big chunks of previously forgotten events.
Faisal had been here again and just left. She admired and appreciated his dedication. Something came alive within her just knowing that he was near. But there was something she needed to do without him. He’d just left—that meant that he wouldn’t be returning again for at least a few hours. She’d encouraged him to get some sleep but she knew that he would get the minimal necessary before returning to be with her. She’d demanded that he stay at the hotel and at least get a night’s sleep. She’d finally gotten that promise out of him.
The machine on her left beeped but the one on her right was quiet. It was only a blood pressure machine, which the physician had just used, assuring her that her blood pressure was normal.
Ava was remembering things that she hadn’t told Faisal, things she hadn’t told anyone. Truthfully, she’d remembered none of it when he had asked. And if she had, she didn’t know if she would have told him.
Faisal.
She’d once fancied herself in love with him. But she’d been young, what had she known about love or life or any of it for that matter? She pushed the thoughts away. The past didn’t matter. She knew that she kept returning to it because it was the only clarity she had, that and a gut instinct that she had to get out of here. She also knew that she couldn’t involve anyone else, for to do so would be to place them in danger. Even Faisal couldn’t know what she planned, for despite what he did for a living, it didn’t make him invulnerable. She needed to get out of here, alone. It was on her shoulders to put a stop to this. She didn’t consider the irony that she didn’t know what she needed to stop. All she knew was that if she didn’t succeed both she and her father were in trouble. That is, if her father was still alive. The thought choked her and tears trembled on her lashes.
She shook her head. She couldn’t think like that. She’d survived and her father would too. She clung to what she did know. One place and a memory that were branded in her mind. She didn’t know what they meant. She only knew that she had to get to that place to find answers.
But her emotions were raw as she thought of the feel of her hand in Faisal’s. Her heart felt like it stopped at the thought of him. He was gone. She hadn’t seen him in five years but she’d thought of him often. She tore her thoughts from Faisal and to what she needed to remember. A tremor ran through her. Her father. The last time she’d seen him was when she’d been in the life raft. She remembered a feeling of panic of wanting to reach out and help. He’d been on the yacht and then she’d lost sight of him and remembered only the feeling of horror and helplessness that had enveloped her. Where was he now?
She could remember that the doctor had told her that her memory would come back. She remembered studying about memory. She remembered studying a lot of things. What she didn’t remember were the last hours on her father’s yacht and they were the most important hours of her life. There were things she remembered—what she had told Faisal for one. But there were other memories that seemed to fade in and out. Things she knew were important and she hadn’t told Faisal because they’d faded too quickly. She knew in her gut that knowing that time, reclaiming that last bit of her life might provide the one clue that would save her father’s life.
She shuddered. She remembered everything that had happened at the hospital during the times she had been conscious. It was only the time before that, on the boat, that was in question.
She knew with a surety, that her father’s reputation needed to be saved. She also knew that Faisal had been searching for her father. She had to help him and to do that she knew she had to go back to where it had all begun. She had to do it alone. She couldn’t endanger anyone else.
She was certain of that, that and the face of a man she could now see in her memory. The threat to her father’s life, the name of the town. All of it was engraved in her mind and all of it culminated in a strange little place, and a strange phrase. She’d heard him say it, Ben Whyte, her father’s partner. She’d overheard him on the yacht when he thought he was alone. “A little piece of hell in the heart of Texas,” she whispered. Whoever threatened her father, the secret to it all began there. Both her father and Ben had confirmed it.
She’d already shared with Faisal what little she remembered, including the names her father had given her. She couldn’t share this new memory. She shook her head as if reaffirming her thoughts. He couldn’t be involved. Already she and her father had been marked for death and it appeared only one of them had survived. She choked back a sob. Alive, dead, she was unable to hold a conviction either way on her father’s plight. All she knew was that she needed to stop this before any more people died.
She’d had solid food since this morning but they’d left the intravenous in to keep her hydrated as an extra precaution. The physician had spoken of having it removed today or tomorrow. Considering the time, she guessed it would be tomorrow. She couldn’t wait. She looked at the intravenous tubing, at the needle in the back of her hand, took a breath and yanked. A sharp bite shot up her arm and then the needle dropped to the sheets along with a trickle of bright red blood. She took an end of the sheet, pressing it to the back of her hand and with the other hand she fumbled for a tissue. This was proving to be a messy endeavor. She didn’t want to leave a trail of blood behind her. She pressed for a minute and then lifted the tissue. The wound was weeping more than bleeding. Good enough. Her legs shook. She took a deep breath and then another. She could hear voices in the hall. She lay back down and pulled the thin blanket to her chin.
The door opened.
She closed her eyes, sensed a presence and then heard the door click and opened her eyes. She was alone.
She waited, one minute and then two. She didn’t have many minutes to waste. Her father needed her. And whoever wanted her dead would not stop. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she knew that her being near anyone endangered them. She needed to get out, get to Texas and get her memory back. For it was only then that she could stop whatever evil had been set in motion that night on the yacht.
She pushed the door slowly open. The hallway was quiet. She slipped out turning left past an empty staff room where she slipped in and saw the strap of a purse in a drawer. Someone had forgotten to lock up her purse or meant to come back quickly. She didn’t think. She’d never done this before but she was desperate. Two minutes later she was out of the room with fifty dollars in her hand and was heading for the emergency exit. On the way down the utilitarian stairs she stopped at each floor. Three flights down there was a floor that appeared to be more for supplies than patients. It was there that she found a pair of scrubs and a pair of shoes. She changed right there in the empty, open hallway. It was her last stop before emerging on the bottom floor and into a back parking lot. She took a deep breath. Her heart pounded. She knew only one thing. She had to get out of here, out of Miami, out of Florida. Her memory was coming back and with it fear. She had to get far away, for there was one thing she knew for sure. The man on the yacht, Ben—wanted her dead. While her memory didn’t give her all the facts, her gut told her that he would stop at nothing. She also knew that finding the evidence her father claimed existed was up to her—she was her father’s last chance.