Marla pulled into her driveway and was surprised to see Pete Jensen standing at the fence, petting her dogs and talking happily to them until he realized she was there. Immediately, he switched back into all business cop mode. Marla joined him at the fence and started petting Moe.
“Hi, I’m glad you’re here, I believe I owe you an apology for earlier today. I was way out of line with the cracks about you not being a good cop. I’m really, really sorry, they were uncalled for.”
“Don’t worry about it. I came by with some news about the case.” Pete needed a few minutes to gather his thoughts. The apology had totally thrown him off. He hadn’t expected it. His mouth went suddenly dry when he noticed that Marla had taken her hair out of its bun and it now hung in glorious waves all the way down to her tiny waist. He fisted his hands to stop himself from plunging them into it.
“Can we go inside?” Pete’s voice was hoarse.
Marla unlocked the door and poured them both a glass of lemonade. She laughed to herself at the look on his face when he tasted it for the first time.
“Wow, this is the best lemonade I’ve ever tasted, what’s your secret?” Pete quickly took another sip.
“Organic lemons and organic raw sugar with just a touch of lime and raw honey. My own personal recipe.”
“Sounds like a lot of work. I’m more the mix and add water type.”
“Let me guess, you don’t measure the water or the mix.”
“How’d you know?”
When he smiled Marla almost fainted away. He had the greatest, sexiest, slightly crooked smile she had ever seen. It changed his entire face, if possible making him even more alluring. Marla scolded herself for letting her mind go there. Betsy’s talk must have had more of an effect on her than she’d thought. After a brief moment of silence Pete continued,
“Well, like I said, there’s been some new information about the break-in but it doesn’t make any sense. The FBI got a match on the fingerprints we found around the pet door. Here’s the rub, the guy’s supposed to have died two years ago.” Pete waited for the information to sink in for Marla.
“So what are you trying to tell me, I’ve got ghosts? How is this possible and what’s the guy’s name?” Marla had so many questions racing through her head she wasn’t sure which ones to ask first.
“The fingerprints belong to a guy named Alonso Fortuna and he died in federal prison about two years ago. I’m not sure what to make of the whole thing, but I do have some feelers out to my contacts at both the prison and the FBI. I’m trying to get a copy of the death certificate to find out how he died. Maybe somehow he was able to fake his death or something.” Pete scratched his head and looked down at the floor, thinking deeply for a moment. “I know the answer to this already, but I have to ask, does the name sound familiar at all to you?”
“No. I wish it did.” Marla smacked her palm to her forehead in frustration, as if that would jar her memory.
Pete felt a pang of pity for her. It had to be frustrating to have no memory of your past.
“Well, don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m sure we’ll figure this all out eventually. Just out of curiosity, do you still have the clothes and handbag you were found with three years ago?”
“No, but I’m pretty sure they’re still in the evidence room at the police station. They took them while I was in the hospital. At least I think they did. I know I never got them back. I never thought anything of it. I just assumed they were ruined.”
“I’ll check it out, don’t worry about it. Anyway, that’s all the information I have right now and I told you I’d keep you informed.”
“I appreciate it. I wish I could be of more help.” Marla was frustrated but had learned from experience that there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She forced herself back to the moment and when she looked up Pete was watching her. His eyes moved over her, intense and alluring. Heat spreading through her body at the thought of being with him, naked, and in his arms-- she blushed.
“Sorry. I zoned out for a minute there. Would you like some more lemonade?”
“No, thanks. I better get back to work. Thank you for the drink and if you think of anything just give me a call.” Pete walked out the back door, his brows furrowed deep in thought.
Marla stood at the screen door and watched until he had driven out of sight. She felt like a complete idiot. Why couldn’t she remember anything? She never even had dreams that she could remember, let alone little flashbacks. The doctors all assured her that eventually some little pieces of information would start to push through, but so far she had nothing except a headache. Getting up so early in the morning had Marla taking a short nap daily, and now she had missed it altogether. She still had a lot of canning and freezing to do for the bakery but she was exhausted. She had lain down on the couch and fell immediately into a restless sleep. Marla woke with a start, something wasn’t right. She sat there and listened intensely for a few minutes. The dogs were in the backyard, and barking their heads off, but the sounds she heard were at the front door. Someone was jiggling the door handle. Marla jumped up and grabbed her cell phone, dialing the police as she bolted for the bathroom. Once inside she locked the door and whispered into the phone to the 911 operator. She was trembling uncontrollably, terrified, she cowered in the bath tub and jumped at every noise she heard.