A Memory Worth Dying For (4 page)

“I’m fine. Everything is fine,” she repeated twice.

She desperately sought a tiny sliver of moon—anything to soothe her unrest. She stood on the top step of the shadowed porch and stared into the darkness. A faint glow coming from an upstairs window down the street was barely visible in the middle of the fog.

Why in the world had she stayed so long? Her apartment above Sandra’s gallery was two blocks away and over on the next street.

She had two choices: Backtrack the long way around the end of this street over to the next, or cut through the two-hundred-foot alleyway separating the two blocks.

Filled with dumpsters, old newspapers, and other trash, the dark alley wasn’t a fun place to visit—especially at night—but it would get her home fifteen minutes sooner. And although it made her feel creepy to walk through, she’d never encountered anything unpleasant there before.

She flipped open her purse and felt for the tube of pepper spray she kept there. A smooth round surface met her fingers, and she took a deep breath. If she ran, she could make it through the alley in thirty seconds flat.

Squaring her shoulders in determination, she started down the sidewalk at a fast pace. It seemed the whole town was already asleep. No sounds preceded her down the street. No voices. No barking dog. No children’s laughter filtered through the damp air.

Halfway down the street, a creeping sensation overcame her when she looked up. For the first time since their installation, the nightlights the town had installed six months ago were dark. Had someone disabled their bright glow, or had the automatic timers malfunctioned?

She stopped dead and turned to look at the Haven for the Homeless building. Should she turn back and call for the policeman on duty to escort her home?

And tell him what?

That she was a baby and scared of the dark?

Hashtag: humiliating.

Embarrassment made her turn and continue toward the alley.

Calling the police was a ridiculous idea.

When she reached the edge of the alley opening, she paused and glanced around her—half expecting to see a dark figure creeping toward her.

There was no one—only blowing shadows of trees in the distance and foggy swirls through bushes outside the stores and apartments. The cool spring breeze felt good on her hot face, but she shivered anyway. Memories of someone following her every move during the first months of her exit from Texas tried to choke out her reasoning, but it had been over a year since she’d been harassed. She was determined to forget those days and look forward. Taking a deep breath, she turned once again to stare at the dark alley.

Inside the narrow pathway, she could just make out faint slivers of light coming from nightlights in the back windows of shops lining the alley. Whispering pulses of electric meters lining the wall sounded like snakes hissing in the darkness.

She could see the buildings on the next street through the opening at the other end of the alley. If she could reach that opening, she’d be almost home. So close . . . yet it seemed so far.

She took a firm step forward, and put her hands around the comforting tube in her purse. If someone came at her, he’d be sorry. One firm spray in his face and he wouldn’t be able to function for a long time.

One minute, she told herself. One minute, and she’d be home.

That’s only if you run, Marti.

She picked up her speed and went from a fast walk to a jog, then a run. Halfway through the alley, she tripped on something and fell hard against the damp cement. Winded, she sat up and tried to get her breath. She felt around on the oily cement for her purse. The contents had scattered in a circle around her. She was scraping everything together and into her purse when a sound made her heart freeze.

A step—not thirty feet away.

Her hand snaked out and found the thin round tube. Pulling it into her fingers, she searched the darkness for a face—hoping with everything inside her it would be someone familiar.

Instead she saw a black figure: black clothes, a black cloth where eyes should be.

A scream hung in her throat. She pushed herself off the slippery cement and jerked herself into a run—all the time squeezing the metal tube in her hand.

She only made it five steps before a hand grabbed the back of her shirt and jerked her to a stop. Rough hands shoved her to the ground all in a single movement. Her face hit the wet cement, and a nasty taste filled her mouth. She screamed and pushed at the ground, but the man behind her mashed her into the grit.

She twisted and fought with the figure behind her, trying to get away. He roughly jammed his knee in the small of her back. His hands pulled her left hand behind her and propped his knee on her wrist. She felt something in her elbow pop, and pain swept through her body.

FIVE

TEXAS

THE THEATRE LIGHTS FLASHED THREE
times, and Daniel touched Veronica’s arm. “Come on, Nikki, they’re closing the building. It’s late.”

Veronica frowned at Daniel and finished her conversation with her friends, laughing for the second time at a simple joke.

Daniel propped himself tolerantly against the wall of the theatre and crossed his arms. His patience was wearing thin after the last several hours.

Veronica had insisted he take her to the International Jewelry Exhibition before the show at the theatre. That was certainly a mistake. She did nothing but hint, maneuver, and solicit conversation during the entire exhibit about how beautiful and stylish the contemporary wedding rings were. The subject of weddings seemed to be interjected into many of their conversations lately. She’d been hinting for two weeks about combining their schedules, their vacations coming up in the summer—even moving some of their breeding stock together in a common pasture between the two farms.

Agitation, uncertainty, and dread were perfect words to describe how he felt about what seemed to be imminent—a marriage.

Was he ready for that next step? Daniel’s first attempt at marriage had ended in disaster, and he’d only been married four years. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for another attempt. He liked Veronica and was comfortable with her, but how would he feel if marriage was in their future? He wasn’t sure.

He shrugged and followed Veronica and her boisterous friends as they exited the theatre. The valet handed him the keys to his car, and Daniel put a bill in his hands. The man’s eyes lit up at the size of the tip, and he bowed. “Have a nice evening, sir.”

Daniel smiled and opened the door for Veronica, who finally said goodbye to her friends. She raised her nose in the air and slid into the seat.

When he got into the car, Daniel could feel the frostiness emanating from her stiff posture.

“I told you not to call me that disgusting name . . .
Nikki
. Honestly, Daniel, you would think since we are so close you would make some sort of effort to please me. You know I hate that nickname, yet you insist upon using it. Can you not think of a more dignified name?
Nikki
sounds so . . . so childish. Don’t you think the name
Vera
sounds much more sophisticated?”

“I’ve called you Nikki since we were little. Why break tradition?”

She leaned back, closed her eyes, and sniffed. “Well, break it anyway.” Then she leaned forward and touched his hand lightly. “You love me, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Then do it for me because it’s what I want, darling.”

Daniel didn’t answer but watched her eyes flirting with him. He slid the car in gear and pulled out of the lot toward home. The bugs swarming around the streetlights touched a chord of melancholy in his heart. His life seemed a lot like theirs—always revolving around one bright thing. His bright light was Veronica. Everything he did lately circled around their time together, just like the moths circled around the streetlight. Were the moths happy, or did they feel the pull of freedom tugging at their hearts?

He frowned. He was tired—that’s when crazy thoughts entered his head.

After he dropped Veronica off at the Duke ranch, he drove the rest of the way home at a slower pace. Not a car was in sight as he made the two-mile trip home, and it gave him time to think.

His dad didn’t like Veronica—at least, he didn’t like their dating each other. Growing up, Gerald had encouraged their friendship, but since Daniel’s loss of memory, his dad had taken a strong disliking to Veronica. Gerald said he didn’t think Veronica had Daniel’s best interests at heart. Since that time, when Daniel talked about Veronica, his father moped around the house with a frown on his face.

Daniel always respected his father’s opinions, but his dad didn’t understand the relationship he had with Veronica. Daniel was ready to settle down, and his father needed to understand.

He walked the pathway from the garage and saw the lights in the den shining brightly. It was after midnight. Surely his dad wasn’t still up. He must have gone to bed and left the lights on again.

Daniel reached inside the den door to flip the switch when he heard his father’s voice.

“Daniel?”

“Dad, what are you doing up so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I came down to look at some old photos.”

Daniel sat down on the sofa beside his father. “What do you have there?”

The aged photo of his mom still revealed her beauty. Sitting on a horse, she wore bright red riding boots with a cowboy hat perched crazily on her head.

“She was beautiful, wasn’t she, son?”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

Gerald’s deep breath came out on a long sigh.

“You really miss her, don’t you, Dad?”

Gerald nodded. “Yep. Our marriage was a rare and special thing—just like your marriage to—”

“Dad . . . don’t start, okay?”

Gerald placed the photograph back in the old photo album and closed the book. “All right, Daniel. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but Veronica is—”

“You’re right, Dad, I don’t want to talk about it. Good night.” Daniel stood up.

Gerald rose with him but froze when a newer photo fell from the pages of the book. Daniel bent to pick it up and hand it back to his father. The picture was of another horse and rider, but the young woman in the picture wore the same color boots and hat as his mom.

“Who is that?” Daniel asked as his father grabbed the photo and glanced at it before sticking it back in the book. He slipped the book under his arm and turned toward the door.

“Just a friend of the Rushing family. I’m tired now, son. I think I’ll go to bed. Will you slide the rest of those albums back in the closet and get the lights?”

Daniel rubbed his chin and watched his dad leave the room. He picked up the photo albums on the floor beside the couch, but when he stuck them back on the shelf in the closet, he noticed a wooden box sitting on the back of the top shelf. For some reason, a wave of warmth filtered through him.

He vaguely remembered his dad showing him some of the contents of that box after he’d come home from Iraq
.
It was full of memories—memories of his marriage and his ex-wife. Memories he’d blissfully forgotten after the IED explosion.

Curiosity had him reaching for the box, but a nervous charge traveled through his body. Secretly, he wanted to explore, but he was afraid it would bring back painful memories—memories he might be glad he’d forgotten. He laid it on the table and stared at the polished oak containing a direct path to his heart. Even if he couldn’t remember the keepsakes, the impression they made on his heart might linger. He reached for the box and opened the lid decisively.

The first thing he saw was a small jewelry case with a ring inside. The two-carat diamond sparkled back at him as if trying to shed light into his dark memories. He laid the box aside and pulled out a velvet cloth folded into a square. Lifting each corner, his hand shook when he opened the last corner. A set of four miniature horse-heads lay in a pile on the velvet. They were carved in wood with a variety of jewels set in the mane of each horse.

He must have carved the set. His father had reminded him of his woodcarving hobby. A small white tag was attached to the velvet.

To Matty, the sweetest wife a man could ask for.

Symbols of our wedding vows: Purple amethyst for honor, blue sapphire for trust, yellow topaz for joy, green emerald for forgiveness, and red ruby for love.

I’ll always love you, darling.

Daniel

He felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. What a joke—four years? Always?

But there were only four horses. The horse with the emerald was missing. He scrambled around in the box, looking for the fifth horse, but it wasn’t there. His wife must have taken it with her. The green emerald was supposed to symbolize forgiveness.

Yeah, right—like that’s going to happen.

He dropped the pile back into the box and slammed the lid tight. Tossing it back on the shelf, he mumbled. “That’s enough of this nightmare back into the past.”

Forgetting his marriage was the best outcome of losing his memory. It was time to leave the painful past and look forward to the future.

SIX

TENNESSEE

MARTI STRUGGLED TO BREATHE WITH
the knee of her assailant pressed into her back and left arm, forcing the air from her lungs. The tube in her right hand burned her skin as she squeezed it tighter and prepared to use it on her attacker.

When he reached for her right arm, she twisted her shoulder and aimed the pepper spray toward his face. The spray spewed out in a steady stream. His surprised jerk back gave her enough time to struggle out from under him and scramble to her feet. She took off at a run, but almost as soon as her feet hit the ground, she could hear footsteps pounding behind her. She lowered her head and with everything inside her, she forced one last burst of energy into her racing steps.

The light from the lamppost at the end of the alley was only a few feet away. Blood pumped into her legs, and they burned as she pushed them to the limit. She felt the pounding of the man’s feet behind her, gaining ground.

Suddenly, hands grabbed her shirt from behind. The man jerked her back until her collar cut into her throat and she couldn’t breathe—couldn’t scream. The tube of pepper spray tumbled from her hands, and her purse slid as it hit the ground. Gloved hands threw her back up against the brick wall, and a muscled body pinned her close.