Jeff rolled over and looked at the clock. 03:17.
The murmur persisted. He kicked off the comforter and headed out to the living room where she’d insisted she sleep. Not in his bed with him on the couch, as would be most comfortable. Though, he got the feeling that was because he’d told her that Professor Mittens slept on the pillow next to his. Not that Jeff had referred to him as anything but “the cat.” Certainly not the name coined by a little girl at the vet. If he used the cat’s real name, he’d have to explain the whole story about adoptions and the night nurse and his family connection to the town’s veterinary clinic.
That was a whole tale in itself.
He eased open the door and spotted her thrashing on the couch. The light above the oven cast a dull, yellow glow across the living area. She was about to fall off the couch.
He started to call her name, but realized he didn’t know it still. And they still hadn’t figured out some kind of temporary name for her.
Eve? Jane Doe? Neither of those fit her. It seemed like her name would be something exotic. He could start calling her, “honey,” but that was a route he should probably not go down.
Jeff opened the fridge door and took out his pitcher that filtered water. He closed it loudly.
He watched, but she didn’t stop her thrashing. He decided to wait it out, knowing full well that surprising someone from a nightmare—as hard as it was to hold off doing—could end up worse than the dream itself.
He was about to go over there anyway and create some kind of loud ruckus when she let out a short cry and sat up.
Jeff took her a glass of water. “Hey.”
She didn’t look at him.
“That didn’t seem like fun.”
She brushed hair off her face with both hands and tucked it behind her ears. “Huh?”
He held out the glass and sat on the coffee table, close to her in solidarity, but without touching her. The last thing he needed was to entertain ideas about things that would never happen. This was only temporary. He was helping her, and then she would be gone.
What reason would there be for her to stay?
And why would he let her when they might find that she’d been sent here to kill him, or maybe she’d come to that reason on her own accord. Would she then act on that order?
Either way, he needed his life to continue anonymously as it had been since he was first declared dead by the Army.
She blew out a long breath, then drank half the glass in one go.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“It’s already gone.”
“The dream?” It was gone just like that? Like her memories of who she was?
She nodded. “I don’t remember what it was, but I was cold and scared.” She was quiet for a moment, then shook her head. “I have no idea. Did I say anything?”
“In your sleep?”
She nodded.
“No, just murmuring.”
She set the glass on the table beside him and flopped back, still tangled up in the blanket he’d given her. “Why do I have the urge to go for a run?”
“It’s a good stress reliever. But not in shorts in the middle of the night with a head wound.”
“Spoilsport.”
He grinned, but it was short lived. He had an idea, but was hesitant to share it. “Would you want to go back out to where I found you? Maybe that will jog your memory.”
“Are my clothes dry?” She stood and wrapped the blanket around her.
“You want to go right now?”
“It’s a good idea. And this is right around the time you found me yesterday, right?”
“Give or take an hour.”
“So we don’t need to rush, but we can get there about the same time. Same conditions. You can tell me where I was. I’ll walk the same steps and see if it jogs my memory.” She shifted, hesitation in her movements. “I can’t continue not knowing what my name is, let alone what happened to me. I have to know.”
Since he couldn’t imagine what it felt like to have no memory and no experiences, he didn’t blame her. “I know what it’s like to have no name. If I could do something to change that, I would.”
She started to ask about it, and though he was sure that’s what she was getting at, he strode to the laundry room that was basically a closet and got her stuff from the dryer instead.
“Is your name not Jeff?”
“I didn’t lie. But…it’s a long story.” He took a step back, satisfied that he’d successfully shut down any more questions about himself. “I’ll go change in my room. You can have the bathroom.”
Half an hour later, he had two hot cups filled; one with coffee for him and the other with hot chocolate for her, and they pulled away from the house in his truck.
She twisted in her seat to face him. “You’re wearing a wet suit?”
He blinked. “I thought you were going to interrogate me again about my name.”
“Would you tell me anything I asked?”
“No. Maybe.”
“You don’t know me.” She tugged the sleeves of his sweater over her hands. Under it, she wore her fresh clothes. “You have a right to your privacy. But it’s ask you a ton of questions, or go around and around about my own problems when there’s no solution. And for the record, I think I might hate having to be patient.”
He grinned as he drove. “Pretty sure everyone does.”
The cab of his truck was dark, and yes, he had his wet suit on under his jacket. “Last night I was coming out of the water and headed for my fishing boat when I heard the shot and saw you running. I didn’t think a second about it. I just swam for shore to where you were.”
“You left your boat?”
He shrugged his shoulder. “It probably drifted to the bank somewhere. The lake is pretty big, but we should be able to find it.” Hopefully doing that would give them both a “win,” even if she didn’t remember anything.
Besides Tate’s idea of taking a photo of her, which hadn’t gone down well, he wasn’t sure how they would go about finding out who she was.
Jeff said, “I’m hoping Tate’s wife can let him know if anyone matching your description was reported missing recently.”
“And if I wasn’t? What does that say about me?”
“It doesn’t mean people don’t care about you, or that they aren’t missing you.” He wanted to reach out. Maybe squeeze her hand. “If something happened to me, no one would report it.”
“Not even Tate.”
“There’s someone he would tell, but no. He wouldn’t go to the police.”
“Because you don’t want them to know who you are, or where you are? Are you a criminal hiding out?”
“Are you?”
She probably frowned at him. It was too dark to know. “Maybe you could just answer a question straight.”
“I’m not a criminal. But no, I don’t want the police to know who I am or where I live.”
“So you stay in the dark, hiding from civilization. Why?”
Jeff gripped the wheel. They were too far from the turn to distract her with the fact they’d arrived. “I made a choice. It will put people’s lives in danger if it gets out that I’m not dead. I live my life, and they’re safe because I’m anonymous. But Last Chance is my home. I’m not going to live anywhere else.”
“Last Chance.” It sounded as though she tested out the words, seeing how they felt.
“Ring any bells?”
“Maybe.” She didn’t say more.
“My real name is Jeff Filks. But if you could not say that name aloud around town, I’d appreciate it.” She could be a serious security risk, but considering he was helping her, she might agree.
“You think I’d put people at risk?”
“Now you know the stakes.”
Maybe she simply thought his life was a sad thing. She might not be wrong in that, but it didn’t mean he was ready to face it.
Jeff took the turn and headed to where he’d cleared a space in the brush big enough to hide his truck in the dark. He pulled in and branches scraped along the side of the truck until it was wedged in where he wanted it. “Slide over to my side and get out.”
She eyed her door. “I think you scratched the paint.”
He chuckled. “This is my truck from high school. I’ve done more than scratch the paint.”
“If you’re trying to stay anonymous in a town where people know you, I’m not sure driving your own truck is the way to go.”
“I only take it here, and then I go home again.”
“And no one’s ever stumbled across your house?”
He wanted to make a joke that if they did, they’d never be seen again. Considering she had amnesia and had been running from a guy who shot at her, he wasn’t sure that was a stellar idea. “No one has ever stumbled across my house. It’s not listed. The land is protected and there’s an electric fence surrounding it, just for good measure. I drew the line at a sign that would read ‘Contaminated.’”
He shut the driver’s door and slung his backpack over his head so that it lay across the back of his body, the strap extending from his left shoulder to his right hip.
He felt her touch his sleeve, a slight squeeze of his forearm. “Did you bring your gun?”
Jeff shook his head. “In the truck.” Then said, “If you don’t want to retrace all your steps to try and jog your memory, we could just walk around. See if we can take a few minutes to spot the boat.”
“You’re probably exhausted because I woke you up in the middle of the night.”
“I slept a few minutes on the back porch yesterday afternoon. I’m usually up when it’s dark out.” He didn’t really want to give her more reasons to feel sorry for him, so he waved in the direction he’d carried her. “You were there. The truck was farther up the bank.”
They trudged the path to the spot he’d found her, and he stopped her when they arrived.
“Right here?”
He nodded.
She sighed and looked around. “Maybe I don’t want to remember. I’m probably better off not, and my mind is protecting me.”
“You hit your head. That might have something to do with it.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“If you need stronger painkillers than what I have, I can have the doc call in a prescription and Tate can pick it up for you.”
“I’ll tell you if I do.” She took a few steps away from him. “It hurts, but I don’t want to be foggy right now.”
Jeff figured that might be the best he could hope for. “Let’s see if we can find where the boat drifted to.”
He led her the opposite direction, the way the current moved, lighting the path with his flashlight so she didn’t fall. Mostly the direction was a guess. Someone might’ve come along and taken his boat. Or the rickety old thing collapsed. Who knew?
A vehicle pulled up across the bank. Not a truck, but a small SUV.
“Someone you know?”
“Older guy. I don’t know who he is, but he comes out some mornings. I think he’s training his dog for hunting season.”
“Oh.” She craned her neck to look through some reeds. “Is that it?”
“It is. Good eye.” He handed her the flashlight and waded down in his rubber boots. It took a second before he realized she was right behind him.
“This could be my first time on a boat. Maybe it’s an opportunity I shouldn’t pass up.”
“We can both get in, and I’ll take us to the bank close to the truck.”
Then her foot sank into two inches of water. “Uh…”
Jeff chuckled and tugged the boat closer. “It gets deep pretty fast, so be careful.”
He climbed in, his hand out for balance. Before he could sit, she clasped his hand and stepped on. The boat swayed away from the shore, sloshing water.
Across the lake a gun went off, the shot echoing across the surface.
She slammed into him and Jeff lost his balance.
They both tumbled over the side of the boat and into the water.