Nothing.
On the couch, Tommy had finally calmed Sarah down. The girl—she was only two years younger than TK, according to her driver’s license, but somehow she acted much younger, definitely more innocent, whether that naivety came from her memory loss or life experiences, and absolutely more trusting—had curled up against Tommy’s side, her head on his shoulder, one of his arms wrapped around her. He glanced up at TK, his expression begging for help.
“Why don’t you have a ring?” TK asked. Her words sounded blunt and recriminating, but she didn’t mean them that way; she simply hated puzzles. “An engagement ring?”
Sarah startled, sniffed, then disengaged herself from Tommy and sat up, her left arm stretched out, staring at her fingers. “You’re right. I didn’t have it at the hospital.”
“Maybe you lost it when you fell?” Tommy suggested.
“I doubt it. Anyway, if I had one, I couldn’t have had it for long.” She waggled her fingers in the air. “No tan lines.”
“You only rented the apartment two months ago,” TK said. “If you were already engaged by then, wouldn’t you have listed him as an emergency contact?”
Sarah shrugged. “I don’t know. Would I? Is that what people do?” Her sigh rattled through the room with its barren decor.
“People definitely don’t go from no ring to a wedding dress in two months,” TK said.
“Most people,” Tommy cautioned. “Maybe he’s in the military and there’s limited time before the wedding. Or maybe the dress is something else entirely. You’re a photographer—maybe it’s a prop for a photo shoot?”
Sarah’s eyes widened and she nodded, obviously liking the idea. But TK shook her head and handed her the card. “Not unless whoever sent it has an extremely bizarre sense of humor.”
Sarah held the card and read the bold, blunt handwriting. Her hand trembled, her eyes drew together, lips tightened, and her entire body cringed away from the small, plain white card. It slipped from her hand, which was frozen out in front of her as if fear had paralyzed her.
“Do you know who wrote that?” Tommy asked, taking her hand and folding it in his.
Sarah shook her head, over and over, not making eye contact with either of them, her gaze darting around the room, searching for the exit. It was a look TK was extremely accustomed to: primal terror.
“No. No. No.” Each syllable emerged in time with her head shaking. She drew her knees up to her chest and hid her face by burrowing into Tommy’s side. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. Nothing. Except. Except.” Her breathing grew fast, and TK feared she was hyperventilating.
“It’s okay,” Tommy said, pulling back so that Sarah was looking directly into his eyes. “We’re not going to let anyone hurt you. Breathe. That’s it. Slower. In and out. Good.” He held both of Sarah’s still shaking hands in his. “Now. Don’t worry if it makes sense or not. Just tell us everything you felt, no matter how strange, when you saw that card and the handwriting.”
Sarah nodded, gulping in a breath. “I’ll try.” Her voice was timid and small.
“What was your first thought?”
“Run. I had to run.”
“What were you running from?”
“I—I don’t know. Everything’s dark. Except… blood…” She gasped. “Tommy. I see blood. Blood everywhere. And I—I can’t stay… I have to get out… I have to run. Now!”
She practically leapt off the couch with her final screech. TK’s hands went up, ready to defend, but Tommy had the opposite reaction. He pulled Sarah back to him, the girl now decimated, a quivering mass of tears and wordless sounds of terror.
He hugged Sarah tight, palms stroking her hair, rocking with her as if she were a little girl caught in a nightmare. But his gaze was locked on to TK and his eyes were narrowed with worry.
TK nodded, her phone already in her hand. She grabbed the card from the floor and stepped into the bedroom, closing the
On the couch, Tommy had finally calmed Sarah down. The girl—she was only two years younger than TK, according to her driver’s license, but somehow she acted much younger, definitely more innocent, whether that naivety came from her memory loss or life experiences, and absolutely more trusting—had curled up against Tommy’s side, her head on his shoulder, one of his arms wrapped around her. He glanced up at TK, his expression begging for help.
“Why don’t you have a ring?” TK asked. Her words sounded blunt and recriminating, but she didn’t mean them that way; she simply hated puzzles. “An engagement ring?”
Sarah startled, sniffed, then disengaged herself from Tommy and sat up, her left arm stretched out, staring at her fingers. “You’re right. I didn’t have it at the hospital.”
“Maybe you lost it when you fell?” Tommy suggested.
“I doubt it. Anyway, if I had one, I couldn’t have had it for long.” She waggled her fingers in the air. “No tan lines.”
“You only rented the apartment two months ago,” TK said. “If you were already engaged by then, wouldn’t you have listed him as an emergency contact?”
Sarah shrugged. “I don’t know. Would I? Is that what people do?” Her sigh rattled through the room with its barren decor.
“People definitely don’t go from no ring to a wedding dress in two months,” TK said.
“Most people,” Tommy cautioned. “Maybe he’s in the military and there’s limited time before the wedding. Or maybe the dress is something else entirely. You’re a photographer—maybe it’s a prop for a photo shoot?”
Sarah’s eyes widened and she nodded, obviously liking the idea. But TK shook her head and handed her the card. “Not unless whoever sent it has an extremely bizarre sense of humor.”
Sarah held the card and read the bold, blunt handwriting. Her hand trembled, her eyes drew together, lips tightened, and her entire body cringed away from the small, plain white card. It slipped from her hand, which was frozen out in front of her as if fear had paralyzed her.
“Do you know who wrote that?” Tommy asked, taking her hand and folding it in his.
Sarah shook her head, over and over, not making eye contact with either of them, her gaze darting around the room, searching for the exit. It was a look TK was extremely accustomed to: primal terror.
“No. No. No.” Each syllable emerged in time with her head shaking. She drew her knees up to her chest and hid her face by burrowing into Tommy’s side. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. Nothing. Except. Except.” Her breathing grew fast, and TK feared she was hyperventilating.
“It’s okay,” Tommy said, pulling back so that Sarah was looking directly into his eyes. “We’re not going to let anyone hurt you. Breathe. That’s it. Slower. In and out. Good.” He held both of Sarah’s still shaking hands in his. “Now. Don’t worry if it makes sense or not. Just tell us everything you felt, no matter how strange, when you saw that card and the handwriting.”
Sarah nodded, gulping in a breath. “I’ll try.” Her voice was timid and small.
“What was your first thought?”
“Run. I had to run.”
“What were you running from?”
“I—I don’t know. Everything’s dark. Except… blood…” She gasped. “Tommy. I see blood. Blood everywhere. And I—I can’t stay… I have to get out… I have to run. Now!”
She practically leapt off the couch with her final screech. TK’s hands went up, ready to defend, but Tommy had the opposite reaction. He pulled Sarah back to him, the girl now decimated, a quivering mass of tears and wordless sounds of terror.
He hugged Sarah tight, palms stroking her hair, rocking with her as if she were a little girl caught in a nightmare. But his gaze was locked on to TK and his eyes were narrowed with worry.
TK nodded, her phone already in her hand. She grabbed the card from the floor and stepped into the bedroom, closing the
Similar Books
