Running on Empty. Michelle Celmer
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“Something wrong?” he asked.
As quickly as the sensation had gripped her, it disappeared. “I don’t know. For a second there, I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest. I think I may have remembered something.”
He pulled into a spot close to the door, threw the car into Park and turned to her. “Does the store look familiar?”
She peered out the side window at the aging brick building. “Yes and no. When I look at it, I instinctively know what kind of store it is, but I can’t say that I’ve ever been here.”
“So it does look familiar?”
“Sort of, but…” She paused, searching for the words to explain. It was difficult to describe something she barely understood. “If you took me to a gas station I’d never been to before, I would still know it was a gas station. This store is familiar, but only in the sense that I know what type of store it is.”
“Do you want to try going inside?”
“We’re here. I may as well give it a shot.”
She waited for him to walk around and open her door, delaying the inevitable for a few precious seconds. Not only was she afraid of what she may or may not discover about her past, but her time with Detective Thompson had nearly expired. If she didn’t get her memory back now, he would dump her at some halfway house. Then she would really be alone.
She swallowed back the fear crawling up from her belly.
Her door swung open and, steeling herself for what was to come—good or bad—she climbed out. The sun had disappeared behind a line of ominous dark clouds and a chilling dampness skittered the length of her spine. Was it some divine warning? Did she even believe in God? Was she Catholic, Jewish, Muslim?
So many questions and still no answers.
“You sure you’re okay with this?” Detective Thompson asked once again.
“I’m sure,” she said, feeling anything but. Feeling instead as if she’d like to run in the opposite direction, back to the car. Or better yet, into Detective Thompson’s arms. She was reasonably sure she would feel safe there. However, if she planned to get through this ordeal in one piece, she could rely on only one person.
Herself. Wasn’t that the way it had always been?
She stopped dead in her tracks, struggling to hold on to the thought, but it was already slipping away. That had been a memory, she was sure of it. But what did it mean?
A car horn blared and a hand wrapped around her upper arm, yanking her out of the way. “Earth to Jane.”
She looked up into Detective Thompson’s concerned face. Only then did she realize she’d stopped right in the middle of the lot, blocking traffic.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I…I think I remembered something. But it was more like a feeling than an actual memory.”
“What did it feel like.”
“I felt…alone.”
“You’re not alone.”
“Not yet.”
If she saw a flash of guilt in his eyes, it was gone almost instantly. “Let’s go inside.”
They stepped through the automatic door and she once again felt that sudden and brief surge of adrenaline.
“I think I remember being here,” she said, excitement and hope erupting inside of her like a geyser. Maybe it would all start to come back now. Maybe this nightmare was almost over.
Or maybe it was just beginning.
Chapter 5
“Is it familiar?” Detective Thompson asked.
“I think so. I don’t even know how I know it,” Jane said. “I just…feel it.”
“We’ll try retracing your path through the store. While we’re here, I’m going to pick up a few things.” He grabbed a cart and pointed it in the direction of the grocery department, swerving to avoid a pack of unruly teenagers and a shell-shocked mother with three rowdy children. Being a Saturday afternoon, the store was loud and bustling with activity.
They started in the produce section where he extracted a crumpled list from his jacket pocket. She walked alongside him while he shopped, taking in her surroundings, willing herself to remember. It felt so close, like she could brush it with her fingertips, yet too far to get a grasp on. Every time she reached further, strained to touch it, it slipped further away from her. She was thinking so forcefully her head began to throb.
He seemed to pick up on her distress. “Relax. Try to let it come naturally.”
She felt like screaming and stamping her feet. She didn’t want to relax. She wanted this to be over with. She wanted to remember now. “I wish I could put into words how frustrating this is. It’s like hearing a melody in your head, and knowing there are words to go along with it, but you just can’t remember what they are.”
“When that happens to me, I try to think about something else, and usually the words come to me when I least expect it.”
There was a definite logic to that. Maybe she was trying too hard. She’d thought of nothing else since waking in the hospital that morning.
“So tell me about yourself, Detective.” At his curious glance, she added, “If we talk about you for a while, maybe I’ll stop thinking about me. Right?”
“Okay.” He tossed a bag of baby carrots in the cart. “What do you want to know?”
“What do you want to tell me?”
He shrugged. “Not much to tell, really. I’m not married. I live alone. I love my job. That’s about it.”
“Do you have family?”
“My mom and my sister.” He consulted the list and headed for a bin of broccoli.
“Are you close to them?”
“Since my dad died I’ve kind of taken over as the head of the family. When my mom had back surgery a few weeks ago, Lisa moved in with her. I do most of the running around.”
“That must put a damper on your social life.”
He barked out a rueful laugh. “What social life?”
“That doesn’t bother your girlfriend?”
“Might if I had one.”
No girlfriend? How could a man as sweet and attractive as Detective Thompson not have one? Unless girls weren’t his thing.
Jane gave him a sideways glance, watched him walk—the casual, sturdy swagger. She would bet her last dollar he was one hundred percent heterosexual male. The other obvious explanation would be a prior failed relationship.
“Ever been married?” she asked.
There was a slight pause before he said, “Almost.”
His total blank expression made her realize how hard he was trying not to look wounded.
Way to go, Jane. Any other painful past experiences you’d like to dredge up? Maybe a favorite family pet he’d had to euthanize? “I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me.”
“It’s okay, it was a long time ago. I’m married to my work now.”
“Sounds lonely.”
They fell silent. She walked beside him, watching in her peripheral vision as he dropped items in his cart. It didn’t escape her attention the appraising looks he attracted from women. Appraising being a major under-statement. Jaws dropped and tongues lolled. Not that she didn’t relate. He was ridiculously easy on the eyes.
The