Chapter 5
5
Remi downed the mocha latte and closed the door to the small office. She felt exhausted to her bones. Like she was ten—no, maybe twenty or even thirty—years older than her twenty-nine years.
Behind her desk was a set of bookshelves, and then on the opposite wall, behind a couple of chairs that faced the desk, was a sleeper sofa. She stared at it now. Could she get away with a short nap? The county sheriff’s office was sending a deputy to take her statement. So, she wouldn’t take a catnap, but at the same time Remi wouldn’t hold her breath about their arrival or their ability to solve her problems that had suddenly come back into focus in just a few short hours.
If only things could be simple again like this time last year. A lesser storm had come in, but she’d enjoyed it. Sat in the lodge by the fire with the guests and sipped hot cocoa and watched the beauty and the fury of God’s creation.
She’d taken plenty of photographs over the time she’d been here, even capturing a couple of eerie faces in the waves—one a beautiful woman and the other the monster from nightmares. Those photographs were out in the lodge and also on the wall here in her office. She’d framed them and added snippets of Scripture.
“...who stirs up the sea so that its waves roar...”
God.
God stirred up the sea. He set the waves to roar.
Even now in her office at the back of the lodge she could listen to the cacophony. Waves roared so loudly that she could imagine sea spray on her face. The ocean battered the rocky coast. Breakers thundered and crashed. Though she felt safe here, the structure shuddered under the force of the wind. She’d been reassured by the powers that be that the structure was solid and would hold as it had in the past century. That erosion wouldn’t take the lodge or her cabins anytime soon.
But she’d heard from the locals that over the last few seasons, the storms were getting stronger. At least over the past two years, she felt like the strengthening storms were a perfect metaphor for her life as a maelstrom was gathering energy in her heart and mind.
The slashed ladder should have killed her. Had an attacker armed only with a knife shown up because she’d survived? If he’d chosen to use a gun, would she be dead now? She reached to her belt and felt her small S&W handgun in the holster at her waist. She wouldn’t carry anything too big that her guests could see. She didn’t want to scare or disturb them. She’d keep it with her from now on. Stupid, stupid. She shouldn’t have left it in her Bronco for even a moment. With these attacks, she knew she was running out of time.
They had to be related.
“Remember before it’s too late.”
Who was warning her?
God, please help me figure out what happened before.
She had no idea why someone wanted to kill her. Still, one thing she knew she needed was Dr. Holcomb’s help again. Remi found the psychologist’s number and called it on the landline. Of course she got voicemail.
“This is Remi Grant. I ... something’s happened. I need to talk to you. It’s urgent. Please call me.” Remi couldn’t have her psychologist leaving a message on the main voicemail at the lodge, so she left her cell number, but she wouldn’t get that call with no service. She’d just have to check for voicemail or text messages, which sometimes would come through. Heart pounding, she hung up.
At least she’d left the message.
A knock came at the door. Erika peeked inside, looking more stressed than usual. Remi moved toward the door, intending to come out with her and get busy again. Sitting in her office, worrying, wouldn’t solve anything.
“A county vehicle just drove up.”
“Thanks. Can you find Hawk Beckett for me and bring him to my office?”
She opened the door and waved at the deputy so she would head toward her office instead of going through the main lobby. Wearing a coat, the stout deputy tromped from her vehicle and headed toward Remi, who remained under the awning outside her office.
The deputy stepped out of the rain and pulled her hood back, revealing long silver hair pulled into a ponytail. This side of the lodge, the wind gusts were prevented from sending the rain sideways. Remi thrust her hand out. “I’m Remi Grant.”
“Deputy Carla Hunter.”
Remi motioned the deputy inside. “Please, take off your coat.”
Deputy Hunter removed her jacket, then hung it on a peg near the door.
“Thank you for coming all this way,” Remi said. “I know it’s messy out there.”
“I’ve been out in it all day already. It’s part of my job.” Deputy Hunter softened her tone with her next words. “I wasn’t that far, dealing with a domestic violence problem. So the sheriff sent me the rest of the way. Said you had some issues.”
“You could say that. Can I offer you some coffee?”
“I’d prefer to get to it. I want to get home before it’s dark and the driving’s even worse.”
“I’m just waiting on another witness, someone else you want to talk to. So, while we’re waiting...” She picked up the phone and called Shawna. “Hey, can you please bring...”
She paused and stared at Deputy Hunter, who then responded, “Just a large cup of black coffee.”
Remi relayed the order, then hung up.
“I don’t usually take anything when offered,” the deputy said.
“No, I don’t suppose you usually do, but I’m glad you’re making an exception today.”
The door suddenly opened, and Hawk peered inside. “Am I interrupting?”
Remi waved him in. “Deputy Hunter, this is Hawk Beckett. He’s a guest staying in one of the cabins. He was there to help me during both incidents.” Saying it out loud made his appearances sound suspicious, or maybe it was just her take on things.
After she explained what happened in both scenarios, Hawk shared his perspective. Deputy Hunter took copious notes in addition to recording everything with her smartphone. Finally, she looked up at Hawk.
“And you believe the rope ladder was intentionally tampered with. Not worn out from exposure?”
“It looked relatively new and was marine rope, so it would last a while.” He glanced at Remi. “I didn’t have much time to think on it, but that was my first impression. Then there’s the matter of stability stakes being completely removed, as if destroying all evidence a rope ever existed. That seems deliberate enough to me.”
“And you believe the shredding, as you called it, happened recently.”
“It’s hard to say, but again, at first glance, yes, it looked recent.”
“Mr. Beckett, do you have any special skills that would give you the expertise to look at a marine rope and determine at first glance—a brief glance—that it had been recently tampered with?”
Hawk raked a hand over his jaw and sat back, appearing far more uncomfortable with the question than Remi would have expected. She took in his appearance, the scruff on his face, the angle of his jaw, and the sharp, steel-blue eyes. He wasn’t big like a lumberjack, but with the flannel shirt he wore and his broad shoulders, he had that look about him and didn’t much look like a helicopter pilot, at least in his current state.
She wanted to know more about him because he had been there to save her twice in one day. She wanted to know more about him ... just because. Despite her best effort to ignore his good looks and charm and heroism, he occupied her thoughts.
“I’m former military.”
That made sense.
“What branch?” Deputy Hunter asked.
“Army.”
Deputy Hunter nodded as if in approval as she made a note, and that was enough to make him an expert on the shredding of marine rope.
She then turned her attention to Remi. “I’ll share the information with our detective. He’ll decide if Mr. Beckett’s assessment is correct and someone tampered with the rope ladder.”
Remi wasn’t sure how she could question the assessment, especially since the stakes were removed. Then again, she hadn’t seen that for herself and had to take Hawk’s word for it, just as the deputy was.
Driven by fear and paranoia about the past, she could be getting ahead of herself, seeing suspicious action where none existed, and appreciated Deputy Hunter’s fresh look at it.
The deputy scanned her notes. “The tree on the road today, did anyone happen to look at the cause? I mean, was it natural or otherwise?”
“You’re asking if someone felled it so it would stop traffic,” Hawk said.
Deputy Hunter nodded.
Remi shared a look with Hawk. “I didn’t think to look. Taking a log out isn’t all that easy, so I can’t imagine why someone would do that intentionally—especially with the storm bearing down on us.”
“While I agree with you, that’s why you stopped and then you were attacked,” Deputy Hunter said. “Ms. Grant, is there any reason someone would want to harm you , specifically?”
“No.” With the word and the look both Hawk and Deputy Hunter gave her, she realized that she had just lied. Except she hadn’t. She didn’t know the reason anyone would want to harm her. She could think of much easier ways to do it than trap her with a downed tree and attack her. As for the ladder on the beach, how could anyone have known she’d need to go up that ladder? Or need to go after Paco?
Hawk continued to look at her as if he could infiltrate her mind and learn the truth by sheer will alone. And with the guilt surging through her, the stares she got, Remi wanted to chew a hangnail when she didn’t chew nails.
Should she bring up the two puzzle pieces? The lost memories? She’d come here to hide, and she didn’t feel comfortable telling all her secrets to these two strangers. Without knowing who was behind the puzzle pieces, the demand to remember before it was too late, or the attacks, she couldn’t trust anyone. Not yet.
Not even heroic lumberjack helicopter pilot Hawk Beckett.
And the worst part of it—she couldn’t be one hundred percent sure that she hadn’t, through no fault of her own, become involved in something terrible, something horrible, about which she would want no one to know, or at least strangers, until she knew. Her mind was blocking it for a reason. Nope. Not telling the deputy yet.
“And neither of you got a good look at this guy?” Deputy Hunter asked.
“He had a black mask and a hood, and it was dark in the woods. I can tell you he had brown eyes. I don’t know ... I...” Her throat constricted and she looked at Hawk.
“You said he tried to stab you with a knife at your Bronco,” Hunter said.
“Yes, but I got away, and he was between me and the Bronco, so I couldn’t get my gun. I ran into the woods, and he caught up with me. I was forced to fight him. He was strong and had more stamina, so I figured my only way to survive was to get away. I was able to knock him in the head with a branch, and that’s when I started running back toward the road, but he was closing in on me, so I stopped at a tree to try to get my bearings. He attacked me again, and then Hawk showed up. The distraction was what allowed me to punch his throat. Plus, Hawk had a gun, and he fired a warning shot.”
Deputy Hunter wrote more and lifted a brow. “Makes you wonder why he didn’t have a gun too.”
“I don’t know.” Remi was growing tired of this whole thing.
Deputy Hunter closed her notepad and stood. “Thanks for the coffee. That’s going to hold me over on the drive.”
“That’s it?”
“Unless you have more to add. I think you should at least make sure your guests lock their doors. There’s an assailant out there somewhere—unless, of course, you think that you’re the target.”
“I don’t know why anyone would target me.” There it was again. That half-lie. Holding back was the right thing, wasn’t it? She’d bide her time and, worst case, she’d tell the county sheriff’s department, but what could they do even if they learned she had amnesia?
Because what did she know, really? Nothing. She didn’t know why someone would target her. Only that she might ... she could be ... a target for reasons unknown.
“Thanks again for coming out in the storm. Let me walk you out.”
“No, don’t bother. You stay inside. I can find my way to my vehicle.”
Remi got the feeling the deputy was ready to be alone with her thoughts. She had that same feeling, but Hawk was still here. He had the demeanor of someone who intended to stay until he got answers. But she didn’t know him and wouldn’t be answering his questions. He could even be the person who had left her the puzzle pieces. He was former military. Army. Remi had been Army.
He’d shown up, and suddenly her world was crashing.
What was he doing here now, really? Though Remi would remain on guard and wary of the man, Hawk had saved her twice, so the thought that he could have left her the warning puzzle pieces to remember before it was too late didn’t feel right. Didn’t ring true. Dr. Holcomb had told her that even if she remembered, she couldn’t trust those memories. They could be inaccurate. A way her brain tried to fill in the gaps. If memories could be inaccurate, what made her think she could listen to her instincts or trust her gut?
Trust herself?
Remi had the sensation she wasn’t tethered to anything solid and had no foundation. The wind blew hard enough in this storm that it might rip her away and carry her off into oblivion.
She caught Hawk staring, and her cheeks warmed. All this distrust of the man couldn’t dampen the stirring inside when he looked at her like that. Oh, come on, Remi. Get it together.
“So, Army, huh? What did you do?” she asked.
His genuine smile warmed her up. “Would it surprise you that I flew helicopters?”
Even after the day she’d had, a small laugh erupted. “I guess not.” She didn’t know this guy at all, and she knew to be wary of all strangers, including Hawk. But...
I like you, Hawk Beckett.
She hadn’t wanted him here, running a tour package, for more than the explanation she’d initially given him—too much noise. But though she couldn’t remember those hidden days, she had the sense that she’d trusted the wrong person. And she wouldn’t do that again.