Virginia Vaughan - Mission - Memory Recall

“Well, he’s not really allowed any outside belongings.”

“But surely his Bible isn’t included in that,” Marie proclaimed. She reached into her bag and pulled out a large, well-worn, leather Bible. “I know for a fact he reads from it every night without fail. Maybe you could get it to him?”

The pleading in the woman’s voice was something Bethany couldn’t ignore. “I suppose I can.”

“Thank you,” she said as she handed it over.

Bethany watched the couple load into a pickup, wave and then drive away. She stared at the Bible in her hands. Was this really Marcus’s Bible? When she’d known him, he hadn’t been religious.

She flipped through the pages and noticed writings and markings with notes in the margins. Whoever this belonged to had used it, studied it. She shook her head. Another thing about this entire situation that didn’t seem to make any sense. As she turned to go into the jail, a piece of paper slipped through the pages and landed on the ground. She knelt to pick it up. The paper, too, was well-worn, but it wasn’t a page from the Bible. It was a napkin with a drawing of a woman’s face...a woman with long hair and full lips, in head garb. She recognized it immediately.

The drawing was of her.

Anger burned through her. He claimed not to remember her and now she’d found something like this? But if his feelings for her hadn’t been real, then why the ploy to pretend he cared about her?

The events of the day had left her confused and frustrated. Nothing about all this made sense and she was beginning to wish she’d never discovered Marcus was still alive.

Bethany walked inside, past the on-duty officer—the skinny guy named Dwight who wouldn’t allow Marie inside with the Bible. He was the only one on duty and was engrossed in something on his computer.

“This place really shuts down at night, doesn’t it?” she asked him.

He nodded her way. “We don’t have much activity downtown at night. We usually only keep one or two officers in the precinct while the rest patrol.”

She thought about what Marie and Milo told her about Marcus’s attempts to discover his identity but hesitated asking Dwight about it. Finally she voiced the question. She did need to cover all her bases. “Officer Dwight, before I arrived in town today, did Marcus ask anyone around here to fingerprint him?”

“I heard he asked the sheriff about running his prints because he said he couldn’t remember his name, but I don’t think anything turned up.”

“Do you know if they ran his prints through the military system?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t on duty at the time.”

She thanked Dwight then walked down to the jail area and pressed the automated button that opened the door. Marcus was the only prisoner. The hall was dark but she spotted a small light in the back cell so she knew Marcus was still up. When she approached the cell, she was shocked to see him on his knees, by his cot, head bowed and praying.

The image caught her off guard and she suddenly felt like an intruder. Through the bars, she placed the Bible on the shelf then turned and left, leaving him alone in the private moment.

A feeling of unease coursed through her. She should have been resting easily having proved once and for all that Marcus Allen was alive and that all the suspicions she’d had were true. But her mind was working overtime, trying to process everything, but the events of today were like pieces of different jigsaw puzzles. Was it possible Marcus was telling her the truth? That he’d suffered amnesia and had no idea what had happened to him the night of the ambush?

Bethany closed her eyes and sighed wearily. She’d thought when she’d found him, everything would finally make sense.

Now, nothing did.

She walked back into the bull pen and approached Dwight. “I’d like to go through the evidence gathered today on the rooftop.” She’d watched Dwight bag and tag each item earlier and place it inside the locked evidence cabinet for safe keeping.

“It’s kind of late, isn’t it?”

“Not for me.”

He shrugged, pushed to his feet and headed for the evidence locker, keys in hand.

Bethany followed behind him and watched as he pressed the key into the lock. It gave without turning and she immediately saw him tense.

“The lock is busted.” He pulled open the cabinet door.

The shelves were empty.

The sniper’s rifle and all the evidence of the rooftop shoot-out were gone.

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