25. Amara
Amara
“Do you remember anything, Miss Bailey?” Steely gray eyes stare at me as I sit on the sofa, my head pounding with the effort of trying to remember anything useful.
He has familiar features that make my heart skip. He looks just like Caleb, but harder somehow, more severe, and his hair is lighter.
Mom hovers nearby, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against her arm as she watches me.
I shake my head.
“Nothing at all?” Dom asks, his voice gentler than I’ve heard it before. “Even the smallest detail might help.”
I shake my head again, wincing at the pain the movement causes. “I’m sorry. It’s all just...blank.”
It’s not entirely true. There are footsteps in my memory. Heavy, purposeful footsteps follow me through the darkness whenever I close my eyes. The sound echoes in my mind, especially at night.
I push the thought away. I don’t know why, but something tells me to keep this fragment of my memory to myself.
Probably after overhearing Dom not being very kind about the detective asking the questions.
“Give her time,” Caleb says, his gray eyes finding mine across the room. “Memory can’t be forced.”
My mother scoffs. “How would you know? Are you a doctor now as well as a professor?”
Before Caleb can respond, the doorbell rings. Dom straightens his shoulders, all softness vanishing from his face.
“That’ll be my partner,” Detective Miles says as Dom moves toward the door with the confidence of a man who owns every room he enters.
Moments later, a man in a suit enters the living room.
“Miss Bailey, I’m Detective Stanley,” he says, extending his hand. “I work with Detective Miles in the Criminal Investigations department.”
“Have you found the person responsible for my hit and run?” I ask.
“We’re investigating a tip off that allegedly came from you about Club Angels and Sinners.”
“Me?”
“I think Professor Miles should leave,” Dom says, his voice leaving no room for argument.
I surprise myself by speaking up. “I’d like him to stay.” I don’t know why, but having Caleb here makes me feel safer.
Dom’s jaw tightens, but he nods once.
The detectives sit across from me while Mom and Caleb position themselves on either side of the room, like opposing forces.
“Miss Bailey,” Detective Miles begins, “You were in the club that night. Can you walk us through why you were there and what you remember about the night of the accident?”
“I’ve told you, she doesn’t remember anything,” my mother interjects.
The door swings open and Milly bursts in, her eyes immediately finding mine.
“You should wait outside,” Mom says sharply.
Milly ignores her completely, crossing the room to sit beside me. She takes my hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m staying. Amara needs me.”
Detective Miles sighs. “Miss Bailey, anything at all about that night? The club? The people you were with? Were you meeting someone inside?”
I shake my head again. “Nothing.”
His frustration is visible as he flips through his notepad. “You were seen arguing with Mateo Conti shortly before the incident. Does that name ring any bells?”
“I said she doesn’t remember,” Mom snaps.
“Miss Bailey,” Detective Miles raises his voice, leaning forward, “a hit and run is a serious offense. If someone deliberately targeted you, it may be the person you planned to meet inside the club. Now what do you remember—”
“Raising your voice is not going to make her remember,” my mother cuts in.
Detective Stanley speaks for the first time. “Do you remember the color of the car?”
“How do you know it was a car?” Dom interrupts. “Do you know the vehicle that knocked her over?”
“We have some footage from the street camera, but it’s grainy.”
“No plate details?” Dom asks.
“Like I said, it’s grainy. The footage has been sent away to the head office for enhancements.” He taps his notepad with his pen. “Can we go back to Mateo Conti?”
“I don’t remember anything about him.”
“But you were seen arguing with him in the corridor of the Angels and Sinners club at around ten the same evening you were injured.” He leans forward and stares me directly in the eyes.
“The evening someone tried to kill you. Now Miss Bailey, you have to understand that means your life is still in danger.”
I gasp, slamming my hand over my mouth. “Why?”
“You must know something... Or perhaps you betrayed someone.” He glances at Dom and then back at me.
“Dom wouldn’t hurt me,” I tell the detective. “I probably trust him and my sisters more than anyone right now.”
I glance at Caleb; he looks wounded by my words, but I need more time to truly trust him, considering his brother is the one interviewing me...the one who raided the club on the night I was there. The night someone tried to kill me.
“I hope you trust me too, darling,” Mom says.
I smile. “Of course I do, but you’re never here.”
Mom glares at Dom.
I sit frozen, my hands trembling as Detective Miles continues his questioning. His frustration grows with each of my non-answers, his pen tapping against his notepad in an irritating rhythm.
“Look, Miss Bailey, I understand memory loss is difficult, but surely something must be coming back to you. It’s been over a week now.” His voice has an edge to it now. “Think harder.”
“I can’t just force myself to remember,” I snap, the pressure making my head throb. “Don’t you think I want to know what happened to me?”
He leans forward, his chair creaking. “Do you have any enemies, Miss Bailey? Anyone who might want to harm you?”
I laugh, the sound hollow and bitter. “How would I know that? I barely know who I am.”
Detective Miles sighs heavily before turning his attention to Milly. “Do you know what happened between your sister and Mateo Conti?”
Milly’s hand tightens around mine. I watch her throat work as she swallows, her eyes darting briefly to Dom before returning to the detective. “No.”
Something about her response feels off, but I can’t pinpoint why.
“Miss Bailey,” Detective Miles turns back to me, “do you have a boyfriend?”
“I doubt it,” I respond, glancing around the room. “Otherwise, he’d be here.”
My eyes catch Caleb’s for a moment. Something flickers across his face—pain? Guilt? I can’t read him.
The detective nods slowly, scribbling something in his notebook.
The second detective suddenly speaks up. “We’ve received information from an anonymous tip that you’re a call girl.”
“I’m a what?” I yell, jumping to my feet. The room spins momentarily, and I have to grab the arm of the sofa to steady myself.
Mom leaps up, her face flushed with rage. “My daughter doesn’t need to sell her body! Her stepfather gives her a very healthy allowance.”
“We need to investigate every tip-off,” the detective continues calmly. “She may have had a disgruntled client who wants her dead. Maybe she sold herself inside the club.”
“Oh my God.” My heart pounds against my ribs so hard I wonder if everyone can hear it.
A call girl? Me?
I look around at the faces watching me. From Dom’s controlled anger to Caleb’s blank expression, and Milly’s concern, to my mother’s outrage.
Are they protecting me or hiding something from me?
I wish I could remember more. I really do. The frustration builds inside me like a pressure cooker about to burst. But I can’t stop the tears from welling up and before I know it, they spill over and I can’t stop them.
I press my hand against my breastbone. My chest feels tight, like an iron band wraps around it and keeps squeezing tighter.
“I wish I could remember. I know I have to remember,” I choke out, wiping uselessly at my wet cheeks.
Detective Miles sighs, lifting his water glass to his lips and taking a slow sip, his eyes never leaving mine. “Try to remember anything at all,” he says, setting the glass down carefully. “And do you remember if Dom was there that night?”
I shake my head, wincing at the sudden throb of pain behind my temples.
“He was,” my mother interjects sharply. “He had a business meeting and his son was kidnapped on the same day.”
Dom’s head snaps toward her, his blue eyes narrowing. “What has this got to do with me?”
“We’ll work that out,” Detective Miles says coolly. “Because someone wants you dead, Miss Bailey, and the sooner we find out who, the better it’ll be for you.”
“That person wasn’t me,” Dom growls.
My heart races, pounding so hard against my ribs I feel like it might burst through. Each beat sends a rush of blood to my ears, drowning out the voices around me.
The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thin.
I close my eyes and then a scent hits me—salt water and something copper...metallic. Blood. The smell of the ocean and my blood.
What does that mean?
I gasp, my hands flying to my throat as a memory flashes through my mind.
Lying on a hard pavement, pain radiating through every inch of my body.
My eyelids were so heavy I could barely keep them open, but through the slits, I saw a shadowy figure standing over me before it turned and walked away. Leaving me there to die.
I gasp, but I can’t catch my breath. My lungs won’t fill properly no matter how hard I try to inhale. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision as I clutch at my chest.
“She’s having a panic attack,” Milly says, rushing to kneel in front of me. She grabs my hands. “Amara, look at me. Breathe with me, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
But I can’t focus on her. All I can see is that shadowy figure turning away.
Dom pushes past the detectives, gathering me into his arms. “Get out of my home,” he growls at them over his shoulder. “Now.”
I’m already being carried up the stairs, my mother crying as she tries to hold on to me, her fingers clutching at my arm.
“It’ll be okay, Amara. Just breathe,” Mom says as Dom reaches my room and places me gently on my bed.
The walls of my bedroom seem to close in, the air thick and suffocating.
My heart is still hammering against my ribs, but at least I can breathe again.
“I need to be by myself,” I whisper.
Milly nods and stands, but I tighten my grip on her hand.
“No, not you,” I say. “I meant everyone else. Please stay.”
Dom sighs, and Mom grumbles, but they leave.
I’m still clinging to Milly’s hand as the door closes behind everyone.
She settles back beside me on the bed, her weight creating a comforting dip in the mattress. I curl into her side like I used to when we were kids—at least; I think I did. The memory feels right, but I can’t be sure of anything anymore.
“Milly, help me,” I plead, my voice breaking. “I don’t know who to trust.”
Her arm wraps around my shoulders, pulling me closer. “I told you that you can trust me. Always.”
I look at my sister and whisper, “I—I saw someone that night.”
“Who?”
I shake my head. “They just...walked away. Left me there.”
Milly stiffens beside me. “You remember?”
“Only that and the taste of my blood.” I swallow hard, the phantom copper flavor coating my tongue.
“I was on the ground, everything hurt, and there was this...figure standing over me. They just looked down at me and then turned and walked away.” Tears creep down my cheeks. “They left me to die, Milly.”
“Fuck, I’m going to kill them, Amara,” she says, her voice shaking with anger. “Someone tried to kill you. And I’m going to find out who it was.” She pulls back slightly, her eyes searching mine. “Do you remember if it was a man or a woman?”
I close my eyes, trying to grasp at the shadowy memory. “I don’t know. It was dark. They were just...a shape.”
“What about their build? Tall? Short?”
I shake my head, frustrated. “I can’t—it’s like trying to hold on to smoke.” My fingers twist in the bedsheets. “But they knew me, Milly. I’m sure of it. They knew who I was, and they wanted me dead.”
“Keep this to yourself, Amara. I’ll talk to Lia. The three of us will work it out.”