Love and Redemption, page 9
With the sun shining on the hillside, the forest looked beautiful and inviting, making it seem like not just washing up on the river’s bank but even the past week of unending rain were a distant memory. I was glad that Charise had sat in the middle so I could look out the side window, especially as we made our way down the semi-steep drive. There were little gullies in and across that gravel road, ones that I imagined the Burgers would be repairing over the spring, and they caused the truck to bounce and jiggle, but Alex was taking his time, so I wasn’t nervous. As we rounded the last curve near the bottom, Bryan’s black truck appeared and Alex had to drive so far right that the scrub oaks were scratching the side of the truck, and I was glad I had the window rolled up, or my face might have gotten scratched.
“Even after all the work we did, it’s stuck pretty good.”
Charise said, “I can’t even see half the rear tire. Will his tractor be able to get it out?”
“I’m sure it will. When we get back, if they’re not here already, I’ll head up to the Jennings’s and see if they want my help getting it out.” When Alex turned right onto the road, I tried to emblazon all of this in my mind, because, for now, it was all I’d ever known and I feared forgetting it.
Except for his truck. I didn’t want to see that. Knowing that it was likely the last thing I’d ever see that belonged to the man I’d all but fallen in love with, I didn’t want to prolong any sad feelings. I needed to instead plan to embrace my old life, whatever that was, and rediscover who I was—and, chances were, there would be no room in my life for a guy like Bryan. If there were, we probably would have met before.
The drive was painfully slow, because there were so many areas in the road that were washed out and bumpy. Even in a truck meant for this sort of terrain, the drive felt rough. When we finally got to the bridge, I couldn’t take my eyes off the water below. The river seemed high and it was rough and choppy—and it looked so cold. Seeing it now in the light of day made me grateful that I’d gotten out before the storm had started, but it begged the question of how far I’d been carried by the river before I’d washed up on the bank—had it been a few feet? Miles? Had I maybe been at this very bridge and fallen in or jumped to the harsh waters below?
Would I ever remember?
After an excruciating ride, we finally reached the main road. I guessed it had been about an hour, but I also figured that when the road was in good shape, it wouldn’t take any time at all. I also got the feeling that had Alex been by himself, he might not have worried about taking his time. Fortunately, the main road was paved and dry, although narrow. Alex turned the truck to the right and a sense of calm washed over me now that the drive felt smooth and we were soaring at far more than five or ten miles per hour. But even on that main road, there were areas where mud had slid from one side to the other and branches and twigs on the pavement told the story of the storm we’d just lived through.
After another thirty minutes or so, the houses began getting closer together and traffic picked up—and the land opened up as if we were on a plain instead of a slope. The town opened up in front of us, but not before I caught the green sign on the right-hand side of the road, announcing that we were entering the Winchester City Limits and that the elevation was over eight thousand feet. Even though I couldn’t remember anything from the past, I knew that this was no more a city than I was a man. Town was a better word.
Was this where I was from, though? I ran the name Winchester through my mind a few times, but nothing came up. Alex turned from the highway onto Main Street, and I scanned everything in sight, hoping to jar something loose in the molasses between my ears.
As if Charise could sense my thoughts, she asked, “See anything you recognize?”
I simply shook my head, continuing to observe.
After driving several blocks, Alex turned on another street and drove for a bit before pulling into a lot, finding a parking spot, and shutting off the truck. He didn’t have to say where we were. Instead, the sign announced that we’d arrived at the Winchester Police Department.
The three of us got out of the truck as if we were on death row. Not a word came out of our mouths but in unison we began walking toward the big glass doors at the front of the building. The sun was still shining as if to tell me we’d survived the storm, but the roiling in my belly reminded me that there was still plenty to come.
What was I about to find out?
Once inside the small lobby, we crossed to the counter. A tall thin man in a police uniform approached the other side behind a plate of glass. “Can I help you folks?”
When Charise took charge, I felt immense relief. “I certainly hope so. We live up in Cedar Creek Valley, and earlier in the week, Sunday night, this woman,” she said, placing her hand on my shoulder, “arrived at our door wearing nothing but underwear and shoes. She has amnesia. She doesn’t know her name or anything else. We would have brought her into town much sooner, but we couldn’t make it out of the valley due to the storm.”
The officer nodded. “I don’t believe the maintenance vehicles have made it up your way yet. Roads pretty bad?”
Alex said, “Yes, so we’re hoping they’ll make it up there soon.”
“At least the power’s back on.”
The officer looked like he regretted asking about the roads, but he pressed on. “This sounds like a missing person case. Please give me a moment.” He picked up the phone behind the counter and pressed a couple of numbers. After a slight pause, he said, “Detective Wright, I’ve got some people here you need to see.” He hung up the phone. “If you’d like to take a seat,” he said as he pointed to some benches behind them, “Detective Wright will be with you in just a moment.”
The three of us obediently sat on those uncomfortable benches, not speaking at all. I was so grateful they weren’t just dropping me off, though, because they could have. They’d already done so much for me and they were continuing to do so. Alex picked up a magazine on the table beside his side of the bench, but it was obvious he wasn’t reading it. He was merely killing time as he flipped the pages. Charise grabbed my hand and squeezed it, and I shifted my eyes from my lap to look at her and forced a smile. She whispered, “It’ll be all right.”
A few minutes later, a semi-balding man whose remaining hair was chestnut brown approached the thin man at the counter. They spoke quietly for a few minutes before the new guy in plain clothes—a blue polo shirt—opened a door on the other side. From that vantage point, we could see his khaki pants and pot belly. Although he smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes, and he seemed like he’d rather be doing anything other than interacting with us. “The three of you can come with me, please.” The word please might have sounded like a polite request, but it was understood that this wasn’t a question. He came across as professional but also disinterested, but at least he appeared to also be competent and ready to get down to business.
We obeyed, walking through the entryway until he shut the door behind us. Then he actually held out his hand to shake ours. “Detective Nathan Wright. Officer Denton told me we’re dealing with a missing person case?”
Charise said, “That’s our guess. This young woman doesn’t remember who she is.”
“Well, let’s see what we can find out.” He led us to a desk in another room behind the reception area, one that felt like it was maybe used for questioning suspects—but I had no reason to actually believe that. It seemed more like a generic office with a laptop, a phone, a table used as a desk, and several chairs. The man had a yellow legal pad and jotted a couple of notes to his questions, but they were pretty rapid fire. When had I arrived at the Burgers’s house? Not just the date but the time. What did I remember? Where exactly did the Burgers live?
Then he opened up the laptop and began tapping on the keys with his sausage-like fingers. Finally, without looking up from the screen, he said, “We received a report of a woman we believed was dead in the area of the Cedar Creek campground. I’m going to see if you fit the description.” After typing in a few things and pressing the enter key, he focused on me again. “You don’t remember your name?”
Jack shit came to mind, and I wondered why—but I instead kept my response simple. “I don’t remember anything.”
He nodded and picked up the phone, looking at the screen of the laptop while punching in numbers. After a couple of seconds, he said, “I need to speak with Michael Watson, please. Let him know this is Nathan Wright in Winchester. Thanks.” Cupping his hand to the phone, he said to us, “I think I found something, but I need to check before I get your hopes up.” Then he averted his eyes back to the laptop screen and began talking again. “Hey, Mike. Thanks for taking my call.” After he chortled at something the other person said, he continued. “I know what you mean. Anyway, I’m calling about a missing person report that we talked about earlier in the week.” The man nodded his head and started jotting something down on the legal pad. When he said, “Yeah, well, I think we have your girl in custody right now,” I felt my stomach lurch.
What did he mean by custody? Was I a criminal and I’d just turned myself in? And, if so, why hadn’t they handcuffed me or read me my rights?
He kept talking, barely glancing my way. “She matches the description we have. Can you send a picture?” After telling the other party his email address, he added, “Oh, and with next of kin information, too. Yep, I’m pretty sure. Thanks—I owe ya.” After he hung up the phone, he shifted his gaze to the three of us. I didn’t know about Charise and Alex, but I couldn’t say anything. Instead, I sat up straight as every muscle in my body grew tighter. The detective said, “If I’m not mistaken, I believe you are Teri Conover.”
I just stared at him, letting those two words roll around in my head. Teri Conover. Could that really be my name? Just when I was getting used to Violet.
“I’m having an officer in Colorado Springs send me a picture of the deceased so we can be certain.”
Charise asked, “Deceased?”
As if enjoying the drama his statement had caused, the detective’s eyes lit up—but at least he managed to not smile. “Teresa Conover, or Teri, was assumed dead due to several circumstances. Just a moment.”
“But that was just Sunday.”
Shifting his attention back to the laptop, the detective half-shrugged before clicking a couple of times. Then he swiveled the laptop so we could see the screen. “I think we have a match.”
A picture flooded that small screen, and I stared at it. Was that really me? If it was, I looked so…different. The woman in the picture had the same color hair and eyes, but she looked very different from the person I’d been viewing in the mirror over the last few days. In this photo, the woman wore a lot of makeup. Maybe a lot wasn’t quite correct, but she was certainly made up. While she seemed pretty with her hair styled smartly, a subtle smile on her face, I had a hard time believing that was me. Could it be?
When Charise grabbed my hand, I shifted my eyes to look at her. “I guess we should call you Teri now.”
Well, if Charise could see me in that picture…then I needed to believe it. Deep down, I knew it was me, but already it was clashing with the identity I’d already assumed, for lack of a better word. I was going to have to figure out how to reconcile those two parts—my new self and my old self—including getting used to the name Teri, even though it sounded so foreign to my ears.
“I’d call that confirmation.” Turning the laptop back so he could see the screen, he began clicking on keys while picking up the phone again. “Jim, can you contact next of kin?” I can confirm we have Teri Conover here. Okay. I’ll wait.” Bending his neck to hold the receiver between his shoulder and ear, he lowered his voice to speak directly to us. “Late Sunday night, some people called in to report a missing person named Teri Conover. They’d been camping out at Cedar Creek, drinking and that sort of thing. Apparently, Teri—you—had fallen in the river. They said they tried to rescue you but risked killing themselves. Since they couldn’t get a signal on their cell from the campground, they drove into town to get help.” Tapping on the keyboard, he squinted his eyes to examine the text on the screen. “We sent Search and Rescue, and they stayed out there as long as they could—until the rain got so heavy, they couldn’t do it anymore. They couldn’t find traces of anything except for a tank top that had been ripped to shreds, and they thought maybe a bear had gotten you or maybe you’d drowned and…” The detective cleared his throat. “Anyway, back at the campground where you’d initially fallen, they found your car keys at the bottom of the river, but that’s it. We still have your vehicle impounded here, because no one picked it up.” After reading a little more, he looked up again, and I could tell by his eyes that what he was about to say wasn’t going to be something I necessarily wanted to hear. “Your memorial was to be held next week.”
“Memorial?” I grappled with that word for a bit, and I appreciated Charise’s hand squeezing mine. “So they were just going to give up on me?”
“Miss,” the man said, his eyes finally softening a bit, “no one believed you could have survived the river, let alone the storm. As gruesome as it seems, we thought we’d find your body in the lake on the other end of town in the next few weeks…but in the high country, if your body had washed up in the river or been caught in the rocks, it could have decomposed over time, and no one would’ve been the wiser. Or a bear or mountain lion could have eaten you later.” Once more, looking over the screen, he continued, seeming to read as he went. “Your family wanted closure. They requested—after being presented with what little we found—that you be pronounced dead. The coroner hadn’t quite relented to that yet, but after more time, he could have been persuaded.”
I didn’t know what to think. First, I’d lost my memory and now it felt like I was losing my life. I was so grateful for Charise’s strength and comfort as she held my hand tightly.
“But that’s easy enough—” Suddenly, he sat up, shifting the phone and giving the person on the other end his full attention. “Detective Wright. Excellent.” Although I could hear the voice coming through the receiver, there was no way to make out the other person’s words. “Thanks.” Then he hung up the phone, a smug expression on his face. “They’ve located your family, and someone will be here within the next two hours to pick you up.”
I could remember the sensation of a roller coaster, where it drops you quickly from the highest point, and how it feels like you’ve left your stomach behind. That was how I felt right then.
Who was going to pick me up? Would I recognize them? Would seeing someone from my past life bring it all back to me?
As if sensing my unease, Charise squeezed my hand again and took charge. “Could we get a bite to eat and come back in a little bit?”
The detective stood. “I don’t see why not.”
We followed suit, the three of us, standing and following the detective back out into the lobby. We didn’t even talk once we were back in the parking lot. Charise was pointing and saying something to Alex as we made our way back to the truck, but I didn’t hear a word either of them said.
Instead, I was thinking I was about to begin a new chapter in my brand-new life, one where I didn’t know a soul, didn’t have a clue about the plot. As strange as running through the woods at night half-naked had been earlier in the week, somehow this felt more strange, more uncertain. And I knew why. In the back of my mind, I’d believed that, once I’d heard my name, it would all come back to me. I’d know then who I was and remember everything.
But I was still an empty vessel…and the notion of finding out more about myself somehow left me with a feeling of doom and dread.
Chapter Eight
It wasn’t long before we were seated in a diner, the kind where the bench seats are covered in slick red vinyl and the tables with old-fashioned Formica. On the tabletops, they’d set paper placemats that had ads on them for local businesses. As we scooted inside the booth—Alex and Charise on one side and me on the other—Charise said, “Once a month, Alex insists on eating here, so I hope you can find something you like.”
“Honey, you know it’s not a statement about your cooking. I love your food—but, every once in a while, I like something bad for me.”
“Like the slopper.”
“Exactly. And you know that’s what I’m gonna get.”
Oh, I was going to miss these two. After we’d left the police station, Alex had driven us a few blocks to this diner on the other end of town. Charise had flashed a frown at me before he’d even put the truck into park. I was sad knowing this would probably be the last meal I’d share with these good people. The way the sun shined through the window belied the shadows inside my heart and head.
“So sorry, folks,” said a young woman with blue hair that she’d styled into a messy bun on the back of her head. “We’ve been a little short-handed today, so my apologies.” By that point, she had menus in front of each of us. “Can I get you all anything to drink or do you need a couple minutes?”
Charise looked at both Alex and me and I nodded. I had no idea what I wanted to drink, but I didn’t want them waiting on me. When Charise and Alex both ordered iced tea, I said that sounded good, too.
But, truthfully, nothing sounded good.
“All righty. Be right back with those.” Almost as soon as she’d arrived, she flew away, leaving a bit of her energy behind, making me think everything was going to be okay.
“Do you know what you want to order? Vi? Teri?”
I looked up at Charise and, for the first time, realized maybe this was a little hard on them as well. While I’d thought of myself as a burden, that didn’t mean they were willing to just throw me to the wolves simply so they could get on with their lives. Although finding my real family didn’t necessarily equate to something so dramatic, I could tell they felt as unsure about this whole thing as I did. “I have no idea.” I really wasn’t hungry and nothing sounded appealing.
