Liz Johnson - Stolen Memories

She squinted and leaned forward, bringing the image closer to her face.

Did she remember those features? Was the scar or crooked nose familiar?

Waiting for the familiar sense of recognition to flood her mind, she didn’t dare shift her gaze away.

But it never came.

Instead, a sinking sensation carried her stomach to her toes and she pressed her hand against the recently vacated spot. Looking up into Zach’s tense features, she shook her head. “If I’ve ever seen him before, I don’t remember.” Handing the picture back to Serena, she continued, “I’m sorry. His face doesn’t ring any bells.”

The marshal tucked the image back into her folder, her eyebrows pinched together. She glanced at her partner, who crossed his arms over his chest, then seemed to think better of his stance, instead letting his hands drop to his sides and find their way into his pockets.

“What about the guy who attacked you here in the hospital last night? Could it have been him?” Zach slipped a hand into hers, squeezing her fingers until she met his gaze.

She closed her eyes, reliving that horrifying moment when she’d thought she’d never be able to breathe again. “No.” Zach offered a reassuring squeeze in her pause, and she ran her free hand over her butchered locks very slowly. “The man last night had light hair, and his eyes weren’t as dark.”

“You’re sure?”

She chewed on her lip and stared toward the ceiling for a long moment. Her mind had been letting her down for days now, and she found it difficult to trust even the few memories she’d made since waking up here at the hospital. What if it wasn’t recalling the right details from the night before?

No. The man last night had had a narrow face and pale eyes. She was sure of it.

Almost.

“No. Yes.” Something prickled at the back of her eyes, and she pinched them closed to fight the building moisture. “I don’t know.”

Zach rubbed the back of her wrist with a gentle motion, making figure eights with his forefinger. “It’s okay. Just do the best you can.” When she looked up from the movements of his finger, she found his eyes filled with compassion, a worried frown puckering the skin between his eyebrows.

“I’m pretty sure that the man here wasn’t the man in your picture. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.” She leaned against her pile of pillows, letting her eyes droop.

Walking across the room and trying to remember an unknown face had sapped her energy. At least the interview was over. It was time for a nap.

But the marshals had another question. “Julie, were you alone the night that you were attacked?” This from Josh, who met her gaze with kindness but an intensity that she could not fathom.

“You mean, was I with Frank Adams? I don’t know.” She let out a quick sigh. “I—I don’t think so. But I don’t know anything for sure.”

“Not Frank. Was there anyone else with you before your attack?”

“Who?”

Zach ran a hand over his face but didn’t release her fingers from his grip.

“I was with someone.” The words rushed forward on a breath, a strange combination of question and certainty, followed immediately by a hiccup. With trembling fingers she wiped a hair off her forehead. “Who was I— How do you know?”

Serena opened her mouth, but Zach shot the marshal a look and cut in. “You were caught on a security camera a couple blocks from Webster Park.”

“What? What was on it? What did it show? I wasn’t alone?”

He nodded.

Her breathing lost all rhythm, every inhalation a surprise, every exhalation too fast. “Who was it? Who was I with? Was I with Frank?”

“No.” Zach jabbed his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes, as though he didn’t want to see her reaction when he told her the truth. “You were carrying a baby.”

“A baby?” The words whisked around her mind, making almost no sense. They were testing her, trying to see what she remembered. She couldn’t have had a child with her. Could she? She pressed a hand to her stomach. “My baby? Do I have a baby?” Her voice rose with each word until it filled the room, carrying down the hallway. “I’d remember if I had a baby, wouldn’t I?”

Pressing a palm against her cheek, Zach forced her to meet his gaze, despite her rapid blinking. “We don’t believe it’s yours. Your doctor said you show no signs of having given birth in the last year.”

Her breathing slowed as tears rushed to the forefront. Maybe they were from relief. “It’s not mine.” More likely they were from fear. “But where is it? What happened to it?”

“We were hoping you could tell us that.”

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