Shadow Lake. B.J. Daniels
to remember, but…”
“Don’t worry about. You’ll remember when the time comes.” He reached over to brush back her bangs. “How did you get the scar?”
Instantly, she looked self-conscious. “I’ve been told it was from a car accident eight months ago.”
He weighed that information. This wasn’t the first time she’d experienced memory loss then. “Were you unconscious for long from the accident?”
“I was in a coma for six months.”
He tried not to let his surprise show. Six months was a long time, but probably not for a head injury of that magnitude. He asked, although he already suspected the answer, “And you’ve never regained your memory of that accident?”
“No.” Her tears boiled over. He noticed she had hazel eyes. “I only know what I’ve been told about it.”
He could see the pain of whatever burden she bore in her face and reached for her hand and squeezed it.
She turned her face toward the window but held tightly to his hand, as if anchoring herself for a moment.
He followed her gaze to the window. It was still raining; the dense fog that had enveloped the lake and shore earlier had lifted. Walker would be up on the road with the tow truck getting her car out of the lake. What if the boy was inside the car?
“Do you want me to close the blinds?” Brubaker asked.
She shook her head as she turned back to him and let go of his hand to touch the bandage on her temple. “Is this why I can’t remember now?”
“Probably. Because of your earlier head injury, it’s possible to have some memory loss even if the second injury wasn’t nearly as severe. I would suspect the memory loss this time will only be temporary.”
“I will remember everything then?” she asked, and his heart fell at the sheer terror he heard in her voice.
IT SURPRISED HER WHEN the doctor didn’t leave. She was used to people keeping their distance. Doctors at the hospital, after she’d come out of her coma, had seemed to have little time for her.
Even complete strangers gave her a wide berth, as if they could smell the misery on her. Just as she could smell their fear that if they got too close they might catch it.
She wiped at her tears, surprised that she still had tears to cry. She felt raw inside, but then she had since the moment she’d awakened from her coma two months ago. The memory was like a knife piercing her already bleeding heart.
What was new was the terror whenever she thought of last night. Hadn’t the worst that could happen to her already happened? And yet she still felt as if something horrible was going to occur.
“You’re fighting to keep your eyes open. Try to get some rest,” the doctor said quietly. “You’ve had quite the ordeal.”
He had no idea.
“You’ve never had memory loss, have you?” She hadn’t meant for the words to come out so sharply, and she instantly regretted them. “I’m sorry. It’s just…difficult to have huge chunks of missing time. Black holes in which you have no idea what happened to you. What you did. What you could or should have done differently.” No, she thought, you just wake up to the consequences. And to people demanding explanations when you had none.
“No, I haven’t,” he said quietly. But she could tell he thought there were worse things than not being able to remember.
“When can I leave the hospital?”
“I want to keep you at least overnight for observation,” the doctor said quickly. “You need to get your strength back.”
She closed her eyes, suddenly just wanting to be left alone. She would have prayed for sleep but she knew her prayers were no longer answered. Her weakened body and mind were exhausted. But lately sleep evaded her or was fraught with pieces of memory that churned in her thoughts giving her no peace or answers.
She couldn’t even remember what had happened last night. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered.
So why couldn’t she hold back the nagging thought that she had to remember? That there was something she desperately needed to recall?
How could she not be worried? She couldn’t imagine why she’d been on that road last night. She’d never even heard of Shadow Lake. Why would she come up here at that hour of the night in a thunderstorm?
What she did remember only made her anxious. The bitter, numbing cold of the lake water, the bite of the seat belt into her breasts, the horrible metallic taste of her own fear. Air. Her lungs had been bursting with a need for air when—
Her eyes flew open. Heart pounding, her mind veered away from what she told herself couldn’t be a memory.
“Are you sure there isn’t someone I can call for you?” Dr. Brubaker asked in concern, surprising her that he was still in the room.
“Yes.” Her voice broke. “I’m sure.”
He glanced toward the window again where a sliver of the lake could be seen through the rain and pines.
“Just ring the call button if you need anything.” He seemed hesitant to leave her alone, but finally started toward the door, and, just as quickly, she didn’t want to be left alone.
“Where did my car go into the lake?” she asked.
He stopped and came back to point to a spot through the trees in the distance. “See those cliffs up there on the mountain? You went off right before the road drops down into town.”
Anna gasped. How had she survived? “How did I get to the hospital?”
“I can only assume that when you surfaced, you swam toward the shore, which would have put you out just down the hill from the hospital,” he said. “It’s the first building on this side of town. The nurse found you barely inside the door. Given the temperature of the air and water, you were lucky the hospital was so close.”
She felt a chill and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.
“You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”
Why didn’t she believe that?
“Rest. I promise you it’s the best thing you can do to regain your strength—and your memory.”
Anna glanced out at the lake. How had she survived last night? Why, she wondered, as hot tears scalded her cheeks.
The six months in the coma were completely lost to her. The two months since she’d awakened had been a living hell. The panic attacks had started the minute she’d gone home from the hospital. Without warning she wouldn’t be able to catch her breath. She would start shaking, her heart pounding so hard she was sure she was having a heart attack. Hoping she would.
Like now when she looked at the lake. Her pulse raced, her mouth went cotton-ball dry. There was something she desperately needed to remember.
DEPUTY WALKER MOVED TO THE edge of the road to watch as the wrecker crew snaked the steel cable down the steep mountainside to the lake.
He’d already been warned that the crew would have to inch the car up the mountainside since they didn’t have enough single cable to reach the car and would have to use an extension. The town wrecker was old, the winch outdated.
When he’d reached the site, he’d been informed divers had gone back down to run a strap through the interior of the car. The car had come to rest upside down in about thirty feet of water.
“No sign of any other passenger?” he asked the head of the dive squad on the shore via the tow truck’s radio.
“Not in the car.”
“Was there a child’s car seat in the back?” Walker asked.
“Negative.”