Mind Lies (10 page)

I smile at them both. It’s a small smile, but it’s there. They know each other so well, and I envy that. “You ready to see the finished product, Jer?” Cooper asks. Taking a sip of my wine, I nod.

He swipes something on his phone, and the TV to the right of the kitchen comes to life.  Then the video starts. The east-facing window did its job beautifully. The bright sunlight gives my silhouette an ethereal glow as I begin singing. It looks beautiful. But it hurts to watch. The sound of my voice singing the haunting tune is at odds with it. I almost want to redo the video in a dark basement somewhere—no light, just shadows.

Greys and blacks.

But it would hurt too much to do it again. I guzzle my wine, nearly emptying my glass as the song comes to an end. The words, my callous intro, and the emotion are enough to make me finish it off. I noticed that Cooper attached a web address to the bottom of the video. He clicks on the link, which opens to a question:

You never use the words I love you. You say:

If my memories are true, and if Locklin responds, it will say, “I care deeply for you, Lass.”

Cooper tells me there will also be a spot beneath the question to put in contact information, including name, phone number, and email. I hope to hell he sees it. I hope the video reaches him and he finds me. But I dread the thought of him replying the appropriate answer and not leaving contact information.

How cruel would that be?

Reminding myself I’m already broken and have nothing left to lose is the only thing that shakes me out of my misery. I give Cooper a small, uninspired smile. “It looks great, Cooper. Thank you.”

He nods as he moves to the stove. “It’s the least I could do, Jerri,” he mumbles, stirring the pasta sauce he’s making to have with dinner.

“Cooper?” Portia asks with a small scowl on her face.

He shakes his head before dropping the spoon back in the bowl. Rubbing his hands over his face, he turns to face us. “I’m sorry, Jerri. I have the resources to help. I should have asked you . . . but I’m not sorry for what I found.”

I look between them.

“Asked her what? What did you do Cooper?” Portia asks accusingly.

He moves to my side of the island and takes the stool beside me. He’s such a handsome man; he carries himself with confidence you can definitely notice. “While I was uploading the video, I did a search for your old cell phone to see where it’s been used over the past few months.”

I frown. “Why are you sorry about that? Did you find it?”

He shakes his head. “No. But I’m still invading your privacy, and I have no intention to stop.”

“Cooper!” Portia scolds. He simply raises a hand and gives her a stare that says, “Shut your mouth, Woman.”
If I weren’t so confused, I could see how that would turn her on.

“As I was saying, I’m not stopping. If this shit’s real, Jerri, I know the old you as well as the new wouldn’t want anyone to be in danger. Not only am I trying to protect you, but I need to protect my wife as well.”

I melt a little at his determination and love for his wife. He continues. “It was one thing when you had your memories and knew what was going on, but since we don’t, we need answers. You obviously did a good job keeping this separate from your life with us before, but now we’re blind. We know nothing, and unfortunately I think that might do you more harm than good right now. We need to find out where you used to go, Jerri. The phone is what I started looking into without your permission, but I’m asking you now to dig deeper into other areas.”

“I cannot believe you hacked her phone records, Cooper.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, searching for patience, I think.

“It’s okay, you guys,” I tell them. “I’m lost. I know nothing. And I need to know something. Dig wherever you have to; I don’t care where or how you do it.”

Placing his hand on mine, he asks, “Are you sure?”

I nod. “I’m sure. Wait, isn’t that illegal? Like hacking or something?”

He smirks. “Hacking is half my job, Jer. Don’t worry. I won’t get caught.”

Portia rolls her eyes. “The almighty hacker’s ego doesn’t need to get any bigger. Don’t encourage him.”

I ignore the warnings in my head, hoping to hell he doesn’t get in trouble, and ask him if he found anything useful. Sobering at my question, he replies, “Brockton.”

“That’s the town I was near when I crashed my SUV, right?”

He nods. “It is. Your phone has also pinged off towers there more times than is normal over the past few years.”

“What do you mean, ‘more than is normal’?”

He sighs. “Your accident actually happened somewhere between Plymouth and Brockton. When you phone or text someone, the signal pings off the nearest tower to get to the recipient. I searched through your text history with Portia, trying to find a common denominator.”

I nod and wave my hand for him to continue. He solemnly looks at me before saying, “For the sake of speed, I narrowed the text history down to the texts you and Portia shared while you were in that area. You two are like a couple of old women and talk too much through text, considering you see each other almost every day.”

Portia cackles like an old hen before he tells her, “By the way, I figured out where my brown leather bomber jacket went.”

She sobers quickly. “Son of a bitch.”

He snarls at her and says, “I liked that jacket, Portia.”

She scowls back. “Suck it up, computer geek. It was hideous.”

I raise my hand, mildly curious about the coat fiasco. “We’re getting off topic.”

Throwing another scornful gaze, he continues. “In one chat history, Portia asks if you had anything promising in the North that week and you replied, ‘No, heading south to you tonight.’”

“Okay . . .” I mumble.

He shakes his head. “You weren’t in the North, Jer. You were in Plymouth, which is south. You would be heading north to get home, not south. But you told her otherwise.”

My shoulders sag. “I’m sorry for lying to you, Portia.”

She waves her hand. “This is like an episode of Colombo. I’m too interested in the clues to be upset with you for lying to me. You had your reasons, Babe. Possibly life or death ones. No worries, we’ll figure it out.”

God bless this understanding, straight-shooting woman.

“Okay, Coop, what else have you found?”

“I found a parking ticket near Whitman, which is also just off the highway from where you had your accident between Brockton and Plymouth. Closer to Brockton.”

His information is sobering. “I’ve only put a few searches in, Jerri. This is the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. I’ve only had the past hour to run a few things. Who knows what else we’ll find.”

Ain’t that the truth.

I’ve learned a lot about my secretive past-self. It’s frightening to think that one person could be so reticent, and I’m still wondering why I was forced to be that way.

Our talk moves to lighter topics as Cooper serves us an informal dinner of pasta, salad, and bread. It’s definitely the comfort food I needed, and the fact that I’m only running on a few hours of sleep, thanks to last night’s revelations, means the food hit heavy, and it hit hard. Add in the two glasses of wine I drank, and I’m ready for bed at seven on a Thursday night.

Portia offers to walk me home, but Cooper tells her she’s on clean up duty and he’ll do the honor. “I offered to help clean up,” I repeat to him, but they both wave their hands at me, shooing me out the door.

When we reach street-level, he asks again, “Are you sure you’re not pissed at me for digging into your past?”

I arch a brow and reply, “Would you stop if I said yes?”

He chuckles. “Probably not.”

I nod. “That’s what I thought. For what it’s worth, I appreciate it. God, I feel so lost some days. Most days.”

“For what it’s worth, Jerri, I almost hope this isn’t real. You’re my wife’s best friend, and regardless of how much she lets on she’s not hurt from your reticence I know once it all sets in, she’s going to take it hard.”

I gasp. “I’m sorry, Cooper. You have no idea how sorry I—”

He clasps my arm to guide me across the street, cutting me off. “No, Jerri, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. If you lied to protect her, which is what I believe you did, I get it. Hell, I even respect it. My point is I hope it’s not real because of the potential danger involved, for you and my wife. But mostly I hope it’s not real because I dread what might happen if it is, where you might go.”

“I don’t understand,” I tell him.

“Think about it, Jerri. If this guy is real, if your wish is to go to Ireland together, to run away, if it’s all true, what will happen if the danger is gone? What will happen if he does come back?” He pauses as he runs a hand down his face. “What if this is just a pit stop, Jerri? What if this ‘safe place’ is exactly that, just someplace safe you settle in until the shitstorm blows over and you go back to wherever it is you came from?”

It all sinks in.

He’s not just worried about the danger. He’s not only worried about me. He’s worried about what will happen if this is a pit stop, what will happen to my relationship with Portia when it’s all over.

Stopping once we reach my side of the street, I set my hand on his arm and wait until his eyes reach mine before I speak. “When I woke up in that hospital bed, it could have been anyone there to greet me. But I didn’t get just anyone; I got the best damn friend a girl could ask for. She could have run out on me. She could have left me to fend for myself, but she didn’t.” I shake my head. “I have no family, no aunts, no uncles, husbands or babies. I don’t have a goddamn person in this world who gives a shit about me enough to come and stand by my bedside, except for her. I woke up with nothing, but so far, Cooper, she has given me everything.

“I may not remember her, but I can’t imagine doing this without her. I can’t thank either of you enough for all you’ve done. But bottom line, Cooper, regardless of where this takes me, I will not throw away what she’s given me. She’s been completely selfless since she found me a few weeks ago, and if that’s the kind of person she is, I’d be a fool to not realize the past ten years with her haven’t been as important.”

Mid-rant, Cooper’s eyes soften, but I continue, speaking from the heart, telling him all I feel for his lovely wife. Hooking my neck in his elbow, he pulls me close and kisses the top of my head before walking us toward the back of my building. “You’re a good friend, Jerri.”

Smiling, I say, “As are you, Cooper.”

When we near the steps, Cooper puts his hand on my shoulder. As I raise my eyes to ask him why, I note the man standing at the door leading to my apartment above the shop. He’s ringing the doorbell.

“Can I help you?” Cooper’s voice is much stronger than it normally is. He’s on alert and hasn’t let go of my shoulder. The man is dressed similarly to Cooper and is matching in size with similar wide shoulders and narrow waist. He’s wearing dark jeans and a dark long-sleeve shirt beneath a dark jacket.

“Looking for Jerri Sloane,” he says, his striking blue eyes trained on me. He obviously already knows who I am. “Who’s asking?” Cooper replies.

Pushing his coat aside, the stranger shows a badge hanging like a dog tag around his neck. “Boston P.D. Detective Bryan O’Shaunessy.”

Cooper asks, “Don’t you guys usually travel in pairs?”

Boston P.D. guy smirks and points to the blacked-out SUV on the side street before asking, “Can I have a few minutes of your time, Ms. Sloane?”

Confused and curious, I nod. “Yes, but Cooper stays,” I tell him.

He nods as if he doesn’t give a shit and asks, “Got somewhere we can talk?”

Cooper replies, “If it won’t take long, we can talk right here.”

Boston P.D. shrugs and leans against the building. “I came to the hospital a few weeks ago, but you were still out. Took a bit to track you down. I came the other day as well, but nobody was home.”

No, I wasn’t, because Portia and I were at Ming’s Coin Wash, where the earth fell from beneath my feet.

“Anyway,” he continues, rubbing his bald head. He’s fit, is maybe late-thirties, and has a distinct Boston accent. “I need to ask what you remember from the night of the accident, where you were headed and coming from. Blood results came back quickly. They determined that no drugs or alcohol were at play, but I need your side of the story.”

“Was there another side?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, there was not.”

I frown. “If it were a single car accident, I don’t know why my comings or goings are important.”

Standing up from the wall with his hands clasped in front of him, he says, “It usually isn’t, but in this case it is. Anything you tell me could be helpful.”

Cooper takes the words from my mouth when he asks, “Why in this case?”

Boston sobers. “Do you have any enemies, Ms. Sloane? Anyone who might want to cause you harm?” The blood drains from my face, but I do my best to respond truthfully. “I don’t know.” It’s not a complete lie. If my memories are true and someone does want to hurt me—I don’t
know
who they are.

“Why?” Cooper asks.