Chapter Six
Snow filtered through the morning light, soft and silent. For once, the wind didn’t howl. The ocean, usually the metronome of her nights, had fallen eerily quiet.
Maya hadn’t slept.
Not really.
She’d dozed off once, the blanket pulled to her chin, only to jolt awake at the phantom creak of floorboards. But it wasn’t the stranger outside that haunted her the most. It was the truth Asa had shared.
She’d been there the night his father died.
Maya curled her fingers tighter around the mug, watching the steam rise and dissipate.
Coffee she hadn’t tasted. Thoughts she couldn’t outrun.
That night had always been a black hole in her memory—one she instinctively avoided.
She’d told herself it was because of trauma.
What if it was something more?
She rubbed her thumb across the ceramic handle. Something about Asa’s voice last night stayed with her. The low rasp when he told her she’d hidden behind the hay bales. That she’d seen Raymond Dutton die.
Her stomach twisted.
Deep down, something inside her recognized the memory. A flash of lightning that made her flinch. The sting of hay. A man shouting her name, shielding her from something worse.
She exhaled slowly and turned toward the living room.
Asa sat in the armchair now, boots still on, eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep. His phone sat on the armrest, JT’s name visible on the screen from their last exchange.
When he looked up and caught her watching him, something unspoken passed between them.
“You didn’t sleep,” she said quietly.
“Didn’t plan to.”
She stepped forward, mug clutched to her chest. “Thank you. For staying.”
He glanced up. “You’re welcome. You’re not alone anymore, Maya.”
That truth felt heavier than any lie she’d told herself in the last decade. “I don’t even know how to explain what I’m feeling right now. My whole past—it’s like I only ever saw pieces, and now you’re handing me a corner of the puzzle.”
He rose beside her. “I think we were both meant to remember together.”
She liked that. Maya nodded, her voice caught behind the knot in her throat. “What happens now?”
“I escort you to the bistro—” The corner of his mouth tipped into something resembling a smile. “And we figure out who’s watching you and why.”
◆◆◆
The bistro smelled of cinnamon and fresh coffee. It was warm and familiar. This place was supposed to represent the ordinary. Safe. Predictable. Maya had built a life inside these walls, one morning at a time. Stability was her armor. Routine was her refuge, but today, something was different.
She moved through the space on autopilot, taking orders and refilling mugs, her mind elsewhere. A thin edge of dread worked its way under her skin as if the world was waiting for her to notice something she had forgotten.
After the last customers filtered out, Asa came over from where he’d been talking with JT and Rachel. His presence steadied her more than she wanted to admit. “You’re shivering.” He guided Maya gently toward the fireplace. “Warm yourself for a minute.”
The fire crackled invitingly, the only sound in the quiet bistro. Her eyes landed on a small copper-and-ceramic chime over the door. It stirred slightly as if by an unseen breeze. It had been there for as long as she had worked here.
Yet the sound of it now grabbed hold of her attention.
Ching.
Her breath stopped.
It wasn’t identical, but oh so close. The barn chime had been handmade and hung near the door, where the wind could catch it. A strange thing to have in a barn.
The warm bistro dissolved around her. Rain drummed against a barn wall.
A flashlight beam! A voice whispered with urgency and fear. Stay hidden.
She reached out to steady herself on the back of a chair. “That sound . . .” she breathed. “I’ve heard it before.”
“What sound?” Asa asked, his attention turned to the chime.
Rachel came over. “You’re having a memory return.”
Maya swallowed hard, her heart pounding. “It wasn’t just in my head this time.”
That chime. A barn. The storm.
Blood.
The memories slammed into her like a rising tide. A hay bale, a man’s voice shouting. A door creaked open. That same chime had echoed through the darkness before everything turned red.
A scream cut off.
A man reaching for her. He had kind eyes. “Stay here. Don’t move. I’ll come back for you.” But he didn’t because someone else came first.
A second voice. Deeper. Harsher. One she couldn’t place.
A flash of light. A gunshot. Later, the smell of burning wood. She’d felt the heat from the blaze, and then she’d run.
Maya’s legs gave out. Someone caught her before she hit the floor.
“Maya!” Rachel sounded muffled and far away. “Are you okay?”
The bistro rushed back into focus. Chairs. Tables. The heat from the fireplace. Asa holding her.
“I remember something,” she whispered. “The chime. I heard it . . . in the barn. The night your father was killed.”
Asa’s eyes locked with hers.
Her voice trembled, but the memory was no longer buried. “You were right, Asa. I was there. I saw it happen.”