Chapter 3
3
Lodge guests gathered around the fireplace or lingered at the windows overlooking the ocean and the strengthening storm, and all was as it should be. She entered her office that was tucked down a long hallway, then closed the door behind her. Finally alone, she paused to catch her breath.
To think back.
Hawk Beckett had saved her life. Never mind that the situation could have been avoided. It happened. But those last few moments—he’d been reaching for her.
She’d seen ... the desert? She’d had a flashback of the missing days. That had to be it.
Was that good or bad? Remembering should be a good thing.
She wanted to remember. She needed to remember.
Dr. Lindie Holcomb, the clinical neuropsychologist who specialized in memory disorders and brain trauma, had explained that causes of amnesia were either psychological or neurological. The mind versus the brain. In Remi’s case, she had experienced a perfect storm—she had incurred a brain injury to go along with a traumatic event. Remi loved the acronyms—TBI and PTSD.
Well, in the two years since the incident, her brain had recovered from the injury, and now it appeared her mind was still trying to protect her from any psychological harm—something to do with memory subpaths created during a terrifying experience. Not all scientists, therapists, and doctors agreed, she’d been told. Okay. Whatever. She didn’t understand all the science behind it, and she didn’t have to. That’s what Dr. Holcomb was for.
Dr. Holcomb had given her two possible outcomes. She could rest and relax and over time those memories would return. But if they didn’t, Remi could intentionally expose herself to an extreme situation that would somehow cause her brain to access those same neurotransmitters used in the inciting incident, a happening she didn’t even remember.
Thinking about it hurt her brain.
I just want to scream.
Six months ago, Remi had given up on retrieving what she’d lost. Trying to find the missing few days had left her feeling alone and defeated. Until she knew the truth, it wasn’t like she could move on enough to ever fall in love, get married, and have 2.3 children—no, make that 4.5 children. If she was dreaming, she might as well dream big. Otherwise, those days that remained in the dark for her would hold danger and grief for those she might bring into her world and love. She couldn’t take the risk. Couldn’t have a simple life or her secret dream until she was whole again.
Emotion thickened in her throat. Regardless, she’d made a life here by throwing herself into managing the lodge. Taking photographs of the tumultuous Pacific had soothed her soul and helped her forget she’d lost a small part of her life.
I mean, who remembers everything anyway?
Maybe no one. But when the past threatened the present or the future, it mattered. Pressing her face into her palms, she rubbed her eyes. Now more than ever she needed to focus her attempts on recalling what she’d lost.
She was pretty sure someone had made an attempt on her life today, and even without that attempt, the flashback of a lost memory was motivation enough.
I should call Dr. Holcomb.
No, wait, I need to call the county sheriff first to report the incident. Remi used the landline and spoke with someone who took down the information and said a deputy would get back to her either in person or by phone.
That call out of the way, she turned her attention to calling Dr. Holcomb.
Would Dr. Holcomb even take her calls? After meeting with her once a month, Remi hadn’t made any progress and stopped seeing the doctor six months ago. Dr. Holcomb had been the reason Remi was at Cedar Trails Lodge to begin with. The psychologist had reservations but suggested Remi could take her place, since, after a death in the family, she wouldn’t be able to keep her two-week reservation at the cabin.
So, Remi had stayed here and taken the photographs and...
Fallen in love with the ferocity of the ocean, the rugged, rocky coastline and majestic sea stacks. After the two weeks were up, Remi didn’t want to go.
Lucky for her there had been an opening, so the lodge owner had put her to work as a barista. With her bed-and-breakfast background, Remi made herself useful, and within six months she’d become the manager. Of course, there was much more to it. Turned out the lodge owner, Evelyn Monroe, was someone who focused on helping certain individuals who needed to stay hidden. Remi suspected she wasn’t the only one working here who had wanted to be invisible to the outside world.
Considering she had a good life here, maybe remembering something her brain had fought so hard to protect her from wasn’t a good idea. Dr. Holcomb had told her that she would remember when she was ready. What did it matter if she wasn’t ready to face the past? It was becoming all too clear that she must remember.
Last week, she’d received an anonymous package containing a puzzle piece along with a cryptic note. The package had no return address, but the postmark was from Nevada.
And the cryptic note?
R EMEMBER.
Had the puzzle piece—a partial image of treetops and a stone building behind them—been meant to jar her memory? Well, it hadn’t. But for some reason Hawk’s hand reaching for hers the moment she would have fallen to her death had been the catalyst for the brief flashback and all the emotions that came with it.
A gust of wind shook the walls and pulled her focus back to Cedar Trails Lodge. She shrugged off the unknown past that haunted her. She could deal with it later. Her staff needed her.
She called Jo on the radio again. Remi had seen her early this morning. She’d give Jo time to finish whatever task she’d gotten knee-deep in, but she might need to go check on that door and fix it herself. She shuffled through the mail someone had laid on her desk and picked up the landline to try Jo at home. She got no answer, not even an answering machine on which to leave a message.
Remi needed a few supplies, and if Jo hadn’t picked those up earlier, she could be doing that right now, but Remi couldn’t know if the woman didn’t respond.
The last item of mail on her desk—a familiar small box. Oh no.
Remi froze. Her breath caught.
What ... is...?
No return address. No postmark this time. Did that mean someone had hand delivered it personally? She dropped into her chair and opened the box to find another puzzle piece of an image. More trees. More of the stone building. The cathedral in Zarovia? That would make sense. She’d been at the café across the street—the last thing she remembered before she’d woken up in the hospital.
She lifted the card in the box to read the words. The same message as before, with added words.
R EMEMBER BEFORE IT ’ S TOO LATE.
Her heart might have stopped right there. Hadn’t she already tried? Now someone was actively stalking her, prodding her. Lungs aching, Remi realized she wasn’t breathing and sucked in a breath.
What should I do? Run again? Hide again?
A light knock on the door drew her attention. Erika opened the door and stepped inside, then frowned. “Are you okay?”
I don’t know. “Yes.”
Erika pursed her lips. Remi expected her friend and assistant to press her for the truth, but she didn’t.
“A family in Cabin 8 is having issues with the woodstove. Dylan says he can’t fix it and needs Jo. We can’t find her.”
“Are you sure she isn’t on the property?” Remi asked. “Because I saw her this morning.”
“Dylan says she’s not here,” Erika said. “I shouldn’t have bothered you with this. I can look for her.”
“If you find her, let me know. In the meantime, I need to get those supplies she was supposed to get. In fact, she could be in town right now, so I’ll look for her while I’m there.”
“That seems like an inefficient use of your time.”
“It’s fine.” If a deputy was at the Timberbrook County Substation, then she could drop in and report the rope ladder incident. The substation was a new addition to the county services but was rarely staffed.
Erika stepped forward as if still concerned. “You seem upset. Is it because you got trapped on the beach chasing Paco?”
Remi tried to wash the distress from her features, but her efforts weren’t working. “That wasn’t a great start to my day.” And she’d leave it at that.
Dylan’s voice suddenly squawked over Erika’s radio. “What’s happening? Did you find her?”
“On my way,” Erika replied into her radio. She shrugged at Remi. “I’ll help Dylan. I’ve learned a thing or two in the time I’ve been here.”
Remi couldn’t help but smile. She appreciated the people she worked with. Dylan was a scrawny ranch hand from Wyoming who still wore his Lucchese cowboy boots and Stetson. He and Erika couldn’t be more different. But everyone worked together.
“Keep me posted.”
Erika nodded and left her alone. Remi shoved the two puzzle pieces into her drawer and locked it. Her office provided a door that opened directly outside so she wouldn’t have to take the long way down the hall and through the lodge to her vehicle in the parking lot. She tugged on her coat and gloves and grabbed her rain boots just in case the deluge hit before she returned. Then exited her office and stepped out into the weather. She rushed around to the parking area and found her old, red four-wheel drive Ford Bronco and got in.
Buckled in, she grabbed the steering wheel and took a moment to catch her breath.
“Remember before it’s too late.”
In a rush to get to Forestview and back before nature’s fury was unleashed, she drove too fast as she steered down the rutted path. That should have taken most of her attention, but that second puzzle piece filled her mind, which was already racing with a kazillion thoughts.
Puzzle pieces.
What image would all the pieces ultimately create? Would she remember once she saw it?
The fact that she’d received the puzzle pieces meant that someone had found her. The eerie feeling that she was in imminent danger crawled over her. She thought back to her first meeting with Dr. Holcomb.
The woman was small and thin, her blond hair chopped. She had sat in a plush chair in her office. Remi sat in the other.
“Tell me the last thing you remember before waking up in the hospital.”
“It’s kind of a blur, really. I was sitting outside at a small café. It’s just so fuzzy. It’s like I kind of have this sense of dread. And then when I woke up in the hospital, I didn’t know why I was there. It was the most unsettling feeling.”
“Understandable. People often can’t remember the events surrounding a traumatic incident. Feeling disoriented and confused isn’t unusual.”
“I wish I could say that makes me feel better, but it doesn’t.”
“What were you told about what happened?” Dr. Holcomb asked.
“That I’d been pulled from the Baltic Sea and had barely survived due to hypothermia and a head injury. The Baltic Sea? I remember visiting the country of Zarovia, sitting at a small café in the capital city of Novograd. Sure, it’s close to the Baltic in relative terms, but it still makes no sense.”
“I suspect that your brain doesn’t want you to relive those moments.”
“Moments? I’m missing days , if you count the time I was unconscious in the hospital.”
“This might seem strange, but in my practice, I find it’s beneficial to determine w hy you need to remember. In other words, is it important that you remember?”
“Who wouldn’t want to remember?”
“That’s a fair point, especially with what you’ve just shared. Even so, many people who have gone through terrible traumatic events, some of which they never remember, go on and live fulfilling lives, leaving the dark or missing memories behind. Memories themselves can’t hurt you.”
Dr. Holcomb studied her, then continued. “Let me put it a different way. Sometimes by trying to remember, you can actually make things worse by creating an incorrect understanding of what happened. In my practice, I prefer to focus on moving forward. Usually whatever happened in the past—those lost memories—isn’t what’s hurting you today. What creates the pain is when you continue to think about the memories, lost or found. But we can live in the present and create a new trajectory for our lives.”
“That makes sense, but for me, personally, it’s important that I remember. Can you help me or not?”
“Yes. Of course. I wanted you to understand that you have a choice to remember or to put it behind you. And in trying to recall those events, you risk altering them.” Dr. Holcomb offered a slight smile. “This is progress.”
If you say so. Maybe she’d made a mistake in talking to someone. But she was here and she was doing this. She shared the rest of her story with Dr. Holcomb. Remi had overheard a phone call outside her hospital room that left her disturbed. Someone had come to see her twice and asked her questions and then on the phone had explained that Remi had no recollection of the events.
Despite her amnesia, Remi’s instincts told her that something was very wrong.
“I made my way back to the States to visit my old stomping grounds in Nebraska and tried to make sense of my life. That’s when I spotted the stranger who’d questioned me in Germany.”
“Are you saying he followed you?”
Remi’s gaze drilled into this doctor she was trusting entirely too much. “Yes. That’s why I need to know what happened. I fled Nebraska and traveled all the way here. To lose him.”
Dr. Holcomb moved around to the other side of her desk. “Who was he?”
“No idea. I should have gotten names. I should have faced him and asked him what was going on. But I was still so shaken that I just decided to run and hide.”
“Did you change your name?”
“What? No.” She lifted a shoulder. “I mean, not legally. I just used different names at motels where I stayed.”
“But your real name is...”
“Remi Grant. This is a private conversation, so I’m not worried about someone tracking me here. Look, I’m driving around in an old Bronco I paid cash for in Nebraska. It’s untraceable, especially on lone state highways and small towns. They don’t have cameras on every corner to catch a license plate, right? Then I drove across the country, staying at motels where cash was accepted.”
A bump in the road jarred Remi back to the present and to the lush forest on both sides of her. After Dr. Holcomb sent her to Cedar Trails Lodge, where she’d taken on a different persona, Remi had lived in a dream world, believing she was safe when she was not.
And here in the remoteness of Hidden Bay, nestled up against federally designated coastal wilderness, she’d let that itch fester—that need to recall those missing days. Dr. Holcomb had told her to let it go, the memories would come when her mind was ready.
“Like in the middle of a life-and-death situation, hanging from a ladder?” she grumbled out loud. “That’s when it came?” But it hadn’t really been a full memory, just a moment ... a burst of ... images and emotions. A flashback.
Steering from the obscure forest road—the only way to get to her isolated lodge, which amazingly wasn’t included on any global positioning maps—she turned onto Highway 101, then drove another three miles before turning toward Forestview, a small town nestled in the rainforest at the edge of the Quinault Reservation. Mist covered her windshield, and the streets were busier than she would have expected, but then again people were probably stocking up in case of a power outage.
While she steered down Main Street, she scanned the usual places Jo might visit. Though she didn’t want to stalk the woman, it wasn’t like Jo to be this unresponsive. Then she drove to Jo’s tiny house at the back of an elderly woman’s property. Jo was supposed to stay in her quarters at the lodge over the weekend to be on hand and was usually reliable.
Remi bounded up the two short steps and knocked on the door. The place was too small for Jo not to hear her outside. “Jo? You in there?”
She didn’t want to unnecessarily worry Jo’s father, but if Jo didn’t respond, she’d stop at his shop. She sent Jo one more text, which she might not get, and that’s why they relied so much on the radio.
Where are you?
Concern crawled through her.
A reply came almost immediately. Her heart jumped and relief filled her.
Send me the list. I’m in town.
I’m here too. I’ll get it. You’re needed back at the lodge.
Okay.
That settled, Remi drove to Settlers General Store. They carried everything in small quantities, and the whole town had already been there and gone. Settlers was out of batteries, kerosene, matches, and bottled water. But they had plenty of what Remi needed. Supplies loaded, she headed back to the lodge. She exited off 101 and turned left onto the mud-rutted path. About a mile in, she slowed.
“Are you kidding me?”
A full-size tree trunk had fallen across the road. She wasn’t getting by that.
Remi radioed Dylan to send help, then pulled her hood on. Zipped her heavy rain jacket up but decided against the rain boots. She hopped out and hiked around to the back of the Bronco to get the small chain saw. She’d found it in the back of the Bronco when she bought it and, living here, she’d had to use it twice already. She couldn’t see around the hood but heard the slush of footsteps in the mud.
Good. Someone could help her with this.
Remi stepped back from the Bronco. Someone approached, wearing a black winter face mask. Her heart stuttered. A knife slashed toward her.