Dying To Remember. Sara K. Parker
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heart constricted. Years ago, he would have pulled her into his arms, but they didn’t know each other anymore.
“Here.” He stood and reached over to the bookcase for a box of tissues, passing them to her. “Why don’t I put on a pot of coffee? We’ll get you warmed up. Take your time.”
She shook her head, accepting the box of tissues but not pulling one out. “No, I don’t want to keep you any longer than necessary.”
“We can take as long as you need.”
“That’s nice of you to say, but we both know it’s late on a Friday and you’re probably ready to get home,” Ella started. “It’s been all these years, and the first time I see you, I’m asking for help.”
“How about you tell me what’s going on and we can decide that together?”
She nodded, weariness in her expression. “I don’t really know where to start, but I think I’m being followed.”
“By who?”
“I wish I knew.” She tugged her cap more snugly over her ears. Why didn’t she take it off? She couldn’t still be cold. It was a thousand degrees in the office.
Or maybe it was just him. Roman loosened his tie.
“So, you’re here because you want me to find out?” he asked.
She smiled half-heartedly. “It’s complicated.”
Nervous. He’d never known her to be nervous.
He waited.
“My mom’s in the hospital,” she said finally. “In a coma.”
“My dad told me,” Roman said. “Terrible accident. I’m so sorry, Ella. Is there any improvement?”
Ella shook her head. “That’s why I came out here. I took a leave of absence from my clinic.”
When she’d left to pursue veterinary school in Colorado, she’d had a singular mission: to finish school and then buy her own practice in the mountains. She’d obviously accomplished her goal. Roman had never doubted she would.
“What about your sisters? Have they been able to help, too?”
“Yes, but Bethany has three kids now, so time away is hard to come by. Holly was able to get leave for a few weeks, but she’s back overseas at least until May. Even if we could all be here more often, Graceway can’t function without my mom.”
Two years after Ella’s dad had left the picture, her mother had single-handedly opened the women’s shelter. Even though she employed a substantial staff, she’d always been the one at the helm, making all the decisions.
“How long have you been out here?”
“About five weeks.” She leaned forward, eyes locked on his. “But I don’t remember all of it because three weeks ago, I wound up in the hospital with a...brain injury.”
Roman straightened, his gaze catching on her knit cap.
“I was shot. And everyone’s telling me I did it,” she said, the words rushing together.
“You did what?”
“Shot myself.”
“Tried to commit suicide?” The words didn’t fit right in his mouth. Ella, suicidal?
She nodded.
“The thing is, I really don’t think I did.”
“But others think you did?” he prodded. “Who?”
“The police. The doctors. Even my family.”
“You don’t remember the incident?”
She shook her head. “I don’t remember anything about it. I don’t remember much about the weeks before, either. The doctors think my memories will come back over time.”
“What did the police find?”
“From what they could figure out, I was shot—or shot myself—sitting up in bed. The trajectory was off, so the bullet only grazed the side of my head. I fell sideways and cracked my head on the edge of the nightstand before I ended up on the floor.”
“The trajectory was off?” Roman asked. Possible in an attempted suicide, if she’d been waffling on her decision.
Ella shrugged. “That’s what I’ve been told. Holly had just pulled up to the house and gotten out of her car when she heard the gunshot and came running. I was on the floor, blood everywhere.”
“Even your sister thinks you were trying to kill yourself?”
Ella nodded, her lips set in a grim line. “My fingerprints were on the gun. Gunpowder on my hand.”
The evidence definitely suggested a suicide attempt, but Roman didn’t point out the obvious. “Do the police have any other suspects?”
Her gaze dropped to her lap. “No. They’ve closed the case. It happened at my mom’s house. No signs of forced entry. No signs of a struggle.” She looked up at him again. “And I supposedly typed a note and left it open on my laptop before I...” Her voice trailed off.
He considered the story for a moment. No wonder the case had been closed. “If someone had tried to kill you and make it look like a suicide, he would have had to get out of the house fast since your sister showed up right as you were shot.”
“My room is at the end of the hall near the garage. It’s possible.”
Maybe. He remembered the layout of the house, though, and it wouldn’t have taken her sister more than a minute to unlock the door and run down the hall to Ella’s room.
“Who would want to kill you, Ella?”
“I have no idea,” she responded.
“What you’re thinking happened, though...it’s not a random act. There’d have to be motive. Personal motive.”
He thought for a moment. After his sister Brooklyn’s death, Ella had gone into a deep depression. It was no secret, as her mother had reached out to friends and the church for prayers and help.
“Could it be someone from the past? Someone who knew you had struggled with depression?” he asked.
“I really don’t know, Roman,” she said, frustration deepening the lines along her forehead.
“Okay.” Roman softened his tone. “But if you don’t remember the incident, how do you know someone else did this?”
“Because I know I didn’t,” she said simply.
Roman saw conviction in her eyes. Knew she believed what she was saying. But he didn’t know what to make of it all.
“You don’t believe me.” Her words were as cold as the air outside, but she couldn’t hide the hurt that flashed in her eyes.
“I do believe you.” At least, he believed she was in trouble. If someone was after Ella, then Roman needed to help her. If not...if she was suffering some kind of mental illness, he still needed to help her. “Tell me more about who’s following you.”
She stood abruptly and Roman did, too. Her nose had pinkened, her eyes shining with unshed tears again. “Sorry. Just... I need to use the restroom.” She glanced around in question.
“It’s down the hall from the elevator, back the way we came.”
She nodded. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Roman sat, drummed his fingers on his desk. Uneasy. That’s how he felt. Ella was acting all wrong. He watched the clock as a full minute ticked by. Then he heard the distinct ding of the elevator.
He jumped up and ran out of his office to the reception area beyond, checking the surveillance