Toni raced between the trees. Her foot landed in a puddle of mud, and she winced but didn’t slow down. She kept running.
After the night she’d had, she needed it.
Those images tried to creep back in, the ones from her dream where blood ran across tile in streams. She sucked in a breath through her nose and picked up her pace.
She’d woken up smelling blood. Feeling it between her fingers.
The urge to get out and run had been unavoidable, even with her nagging headache.
Whatever this memory was of the life she’d lived before she forgot everything did she even want to remember it? Maybe the past was better left in the depths of her mind. Gone because she’d hit her head…running from a gunman, of all things. The memories living in the folds of her brain made her both curious and terrified.
Her wet, muddy running shoes felt gross, her socks soaked through. She wrinkled her nose but didn’t stop running. There was something calming about being outside. Moving fast. She checked over her shoulder. Awareness prickled at the edge of her mind over whether there might be someone watching. Following her. The threat was out there, and her instincts knew it.
For a day and a half that had been true. Some nameless, faceless guy was out there looking for her. Was he really nameless and faceless? Or did she just not remember him?
She completed her circle around the cabin and headed to the back door, still feeling that target on her. Who was that man in the truck who’d been looking for her? It seemed so crazy he’d come back a day later to check she was dead—or whatever it was that he’d been doing. How were they to have known it was like walking into a trap?
Jeff sat in a rocker on the porch, a cup of coffee in his hand.
Toni slowed to a walk across the clearing. Between the rows and rows of raised beds. In summer, he must have a bounty of whatever he grew. There was enough square feet of dirt for so many things.
When she was close enough, she pointed to the dirt and said, “What do you grow?”
“All kinds of things.”
Sweat clung to the inside of her shirt, one part of the stack of clothes Tate had brought late last night—along with no news about the license plate. Apparently, he had to find the “right time” to bring it up with his wife since, apparently, he’d burned the favor he’d been owed. Too bad, since this same someone at the DMV could have also given him the name the truck’s license plate was registered to.
She’d thanked him for the clothes anyway.
Toni stared at Jeff. “What’s wrong?” The way she spoke sounded strange to her ears. Not the first time it felt as though she had to chew over the words. Like they didn’t come easy to her. Whatever that was about, she didn’t know.
“Aside from the fact I woke up to you gone?”
Both of them had been sleeping odd hours. They could probably compete to see who had more insomnia, but who wanted to know? “You found my note by the coffee pot, right?”
He nodded.
But by then, the damage had been done. He was already battling the worry. And knowing she was alone out there didn’t help.
Of course, he didn’t actually say all that. No, he just sat there and stared. Then took a sip of his coffee.
She would have slumped into the chair beside him. Except, there wasn’t one.
Toni sat on the top step of the porch. “I think I like running.”
“Yeah?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “It was easy to get out there. Instinctual to lace up the sneakers and head outside. Then once I got in a rhythm, it felt good.” Truth be told, each minute she’d been out there had felt better than the previous one. “There’s something clarifying about running.”
All those lingering dream images of blood, and the rush of fear that accompanied them, had dissipated. She’d been able to push them to a corner of her mind. Eventually, they’d fragmented altogether and it had been simply her and the solitude of being completely alone.
“I always hated running.” He stood. “You should be careful going out alone. It’s not safe.”
She toed off the borrowed shoes and got up to follow him inside. “I can take care of myself.”
“Oh yeah?” He stopped without even opening the door.
“Why are you mad?”
“You don’t think maybe it’s because you went out on your own with no way to defend yourself?”
“I wasn’t going to take your gun and leave you defenseless.”
“So instead, you put yourself in the position of being picked off by a sniper.”
“There are no snipers out here.” Aside from the fact the guy who’d tried to kill her was clearly no crack shot with guns. “No one but me, and you. And occasionally Tate.”
“This isn’t a joke. You aren’t safe.”
She moved past him and stepped inside. “I’m not going to cower in fear. When I woke up, I knew I wanted to run.”
“You hit your head a couple of days ago. You could’ve passed out.”
“Getting some space defeats the purpose if you take another person with you.”
“Oh, so it was just me you were getting away from. Not liking being cooped up.” He shut the door harder than was necessary and headed to the kitchen.
“Jeff.”
He waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it. At least I know now where things are between us.”
“You were sweating and talking to yourself in your sleep.”
He turned.
“Before I left, I checked on you. It was barely half an hour ago. You were having a bad dream, and I didn’t want to startle you out of it—like you said you did with me. I also didn’t figure you wanted an audience, so I headed out. I stayed close by running in a circle around the cabin. Which I could see the whole time.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed.
“Are you okay?”
He sniffed and shifted slightly. Given the look on his face, she figured that hurt. His wound was probably stinging or itching. Or in some other way, just plain didn’t feel good.
He didn’t answer her question.
Toni wandered over and hopped up to sit on the end of the breakfast bar. “Do you need anything?”
He pulled down a jar of peanut butter, braced it between his hip and the counter, and unscrewed the lid.
Guess you’re good.
“I’m sorry I left without telling you.”
“I know I’m not your keeper.” He spread the peanut butter on a slice of white bread.
“But you were still worried.”
He sliced a banana, arranged the slices uniformly on top of the peanut butter, and then topped it with a honey drizzle before placing another slice of bread on top. He handed her the plate.
“Oh. Thanks.”
He proceeded to make another sandwich for himself while she took a bite of hers.
“This is really good.” She hadn’t realized how hungry she was. The silence hung like fog in the room. “I wasn’t trying to escape you. I just needed some air and running seemed like a great idea. Once I thought of it, I couldn’t resist. And I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself.”
“I’m sorry you were worried about me.”
It was a weird thing, this relationship they were building. A kind of friendship based on her knowing nothing about herself, and his desire to say nothing about who he was or where he’d been. Because he didn’t want to make her feel bad that she had no history, or was it about his own need to forget the things he’d seen and done.
She was attracted to him, but how could she even begin to indulge her feelings? She’d left him a note of her whereabouts. That need to tell someone where she was could mean she had a significant other. And it wasn’t Jeff.
But who could it be, and were they even looking for her?
Maybe no one cared.
There could be just Jeff.
He leaned against the opposite counter and took a huge bite of his sandwich.
“Do you want to tell me about your dream?” She kind of assumed it was about losing his arm, but she had no idea. Maybe it wasn’t.
“There was a woman.”
Oh. She took a bite of her sandwich so she didn’t sound like a clingy idiot.
“It was a few years ago. I tried to save her, but it didn’t work.”
“What happened to her?”
“A suicide bomber blew up the hospital tent where she worked.”
“She was a doctor?”
He shook his head. “Admin for the medical staff.” He wasn’t quite able to hide the wince that followed. “Among other things.”
They finished eating in silence. Meanwhile, every question she had about who she was and what kind of life she’d lived rolled through her mind. All those tiny things that she did or thought or said, not knowing if they were significant or completely meaningless. It was infuriating.
“You probably can’t wait for me to remember who I am so I can get out of your hair.”
“Now you’re going to put words in my mouth?”
She gaped. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Seems like it. You can’t wait to go, so you assume I can’t wait for it either. Regardless of how I actually feel. Which apparently doesn’t matter because you’ve already decided for me.”
Toni didn’t know what to say to that. How could she?
To her consternation, tears filled her eyes. Really, she was going to cry right now? That was terrifying. More so than running from a gunman or feeling real fear. She blinked, and a couple of tears rolled down her face.
She felt him move closer. In a soft voice he asked, “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not.” She shook her head.
His hand touched her chin, and he swiped at a tear with his thumb. “No?”
“You hate me. Of course I’m crying.”
“I don’t hate you, Toni.”
If that was true, it was because he didn’t know who she was. “I’m sorry I don’t know who I am.”
“You have amnesia. It’s not your fault. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
“Then why am I crying?”
His body shook. “I thought you weren’t.”
“You’re laughing at me. That’s worse!”
He groaned. “Take a breath, Toni. You’re starting to panic.”
It felt like maybe she was past “starting to” and was already in a full-blown panic mode.
“Toni.”
She shook her head. “What if it never comes back? What if I never remember who I am?”
She vacillated between not wanting to know and needing answers on a fundamental level too deep to comprehend. And yet, the idea of searching for herself online filled her with a dread she didn’t want to unpack.
Who was she?
“I can’t stay here forever.”
“I’m not asking you to.” He was close now. Probably closer than he should be, even just trying to comfort her as her friend. “But you need to rest so your memories can come back. Until then, I’m going to make sure you’re safe. Okay?”
Before she could tell him, “thank you,” his phone rang.
He leaned away far enough to swipe to answer the call and put it on speaker. “Yeah, Tate?”
“Both of you are there?”
Toni said, “Yes. Do you know who was driving the truck?” It was better than asking the identity of the person who shot at both of them.
“Are you okay?”
She swiped her cheeks and answered Tate, “I’m fine. What’s up?”
“Jeff, put your radio on.”
His body was close enough she could see him stiffen. “Why?”
“It’s not about Annabelle. Just turn it on.”
He crossed to the mantel and twisted the dial until the male voice came on. “…local police. Please call if you have any information about this missing woman.”
Toni gasped.
The man continued, “More at the top of the hour on our breaking news story. Local gym owner Kristine Simmons is missing, and police are currently searching for evidence of foul play.”