The sheriff’s office was also still running nighttime patrols along her street, usually once an hour if not more often.
“And I’ve got your concealed carry license here. Do you want me to bring it to you?”
She had difficulty processing that while still thinking about the fifteen dead women. “Can Rob get it?”
The detective must have realized how shaken she was. “Sure, just have him call me. Are you okay?”
“No.” That number resonated in her brain. Fifteen dead women.
And she would have been sixteen.
Or twenty-six, if the others were related.
Her hands shook. “I have to go now. Thank you for calling.” The receiver fell from her hand onto the phone. Fifteen confirmed victims? And she was the only one who survived?
Laura couldn’t stand. Her legs shook too badly. Steve walked in and saw her. “What’s wrong?”
She burst into tears as she related what Thomas said.
He hugged her. “Honey, you’re lucky. You’re a fighter. That will always keep you alive. You’ve been scrappy from when you were a kid. This guy isn’t going to get another chance at you.”
She couldn’t stay in the shop and she didn’t want to go home. She told Steve she was going out for a little while to get some lunch and drove into town. Despite his insistence on going with her, she refused.
She needed to be alone, and she’d be in public. What could happen?
Wandering through Merchant’s Crossing shopping plaza, she passed a hair salon. Laura looked inside and saw they weren’t busy, then studied her reflection in the window. The bruises had finally faded and she’d stopped wearing makeup.
Today, she had her nearly waist-length auburn hair up in a ponytail and braided. Before she could chicken out, she walked in and talked to a stylist. The woman made a few suggestions. Laura called Steve and told him she’d be shopping for a few more hours so he wouldn’t worry, but didn’t tell him what she was doing.
Three hours later, Laura returned to the shop.
When Steve saw her new hairstyle, his eyes popped.
“I thought you said you were getting lunch and shopping.”
“Well, do you like it?”
“It’s different.” He stared. “Not bad different, it’s just…I’ve never known you to do anything like this before. It’ll take some getting used to.”
The stylist had scissored Laura’s hair to shoulder length. Still long enough to pull back into a ponytail when diving, but a drastic difference. After cutting it, the stylist colored it, lightening it a few shades and adding highlights, but not all the way to blonde.
Laura felt pleased with the results.
Sarah walked in and stopped short. “Uh. Wow. I mean…” She stared at Laura’s new hairstyle. “Wow.”
Steve still stared. “Rob’s going to flip.”
“Why?”
“He loved your hair long.”
Laura considered that. “Is that why I kept it long? For him?” Mindful of Bill’s comments about her temper, she reined in her irritation.
“No, hon. You kept it long because it looked pretty on you, and because it was easy for you to take care of. You only went to the salon maybe twice a year. You hated getting your hair cut because your mom made you keep it short and styled when you were little. When you were twelve she finally threw her hands up and let you do what you wanted with it, and you let it grow.”
He let out a laugh. “You never do anything because someone else wanted you to, unless you wanted to first.”
Sarah laughed with him. “That’s the truth.”
* * * *
Rob went to pick up Laura’s concealed carry license from Det. Thomas. When he returned, his captain asked, “How’s Laura doing? I haven’t worked the same hours with you lately and have been meaning to ask.”
“She’s physically better. Her memory’s still spotty. She can work and run the store. Steve hasn’t got her back in the water yet to see if she can still dive or teach because of her ribs. She’s got a lot of her childhood back, but very little recent memories.”
“How are you handling it?”
He shrugged. “I’m just taking it one day at a time. I’m going to date her all over again. That’s what I’ve got planned for tonight. She’s meeting me over on Boca at a restaurant we went to all the time. I’ve already got it set up to have fresh flowers on the table and champagne chilling. Then I’m going to pop the question.”
“You’re going to propose again?”
“No. I’m going to ask her to go steady with me.”
Once the captain quit laughing, he realized Rob was serious.
“She still doesn’t know me. I’m not going to force her to put aside her reservations. I’m hoping she’ll say yes.”
“If she doesn’t?”
He looked at the floor. Despite how they’d mended fences after her blowup, he didn’t want to think about the very real possibility that things might not turn out the same between them once she learned about their BDSM dynamic. “I don’t want to think about that.”
* * * *
Despite a late accident call, Rob still managed to return to the station, shower, and make it to the restaurant with ten minutes to spare. He was sitting at the table waiting for Laura when a woman walked in who looked familiar. In the dim light, it wasn’t until she was halfway to the table that he recognized her.
In his shock, he forgot to stand and pull her chair out like he’d planned.
“Hi, Rob.” Her voice sounded timid, shy. Definitely not two words that would have described Laura before the attack.
“Um. Hi.” He searched for words. That this truly wasn’t his Laura anymore slammed home. She looked vaguely the same, but the drastic change in hairstyle emphasized the differences. She even walked differently, and not just because of her injuries. She didn’t have the familiar confident, smooth glide.
Her face fell. “You don’t like it, do you?”
He scrambled out of his chair and pulled hers out, helping her sit. “I’m sorry, honey. You look great. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”
He stared at her for a moment and finally sat down. “What brought this on?”
She shrugged. “I just felt like doing it.” She sniffed the flowers. “These are beautiful. Thank you.” Looking at him she saw the shock still registering on his face and smiled. “Don’t feel bad. Steve’s and Sarah’s jaws hit the floor, too.”
He looked down at his menu. “I’m sorry. Was it that obvious?”
“It wasn’t unexpected.” She picked up her menu and studied it. The waitress took their drink order and appetizers. When they were alone, Laura put her menu down. She reached across the table and touched Rob’s hand. “Why don’t you order for me? Order me something I used to love.”
“To be honest, I’m almost afraid to.” He couldn’t believe he said it, but now that he had, the emotions couldn’t be rebottled.
She pulled back and frowned. “Why?”
“Because physically, you’re the same woman I was supposed to marry in a few months. And that’s about the extent of it. Even though I have a past with you, you’re a stranger. You don’t know me beyond what we’ve gone through the past few weeks, and I really don’t know you anymore. Now I don’t know what to say or do around you. I wanted tonight to be special. I was going to ask if you’d go steady with me. I know that’s stupid, but I was hoping it would give you the time you need to make a decision about the future.”
“Was?”
He didn’t answer.
“Why won’t you ask me? Just because I cut my hair?”
He tried to reply and couldn’t. Finally, “I don’t know. Would you say yes if I did?”
“You haven’t given me the chance to answer. You’re assuming I’ll say no. Don’t you have enough respect for me to give me the chance to make up my own mind? Is this the kind of relationship we used to have, where I just went along with you no matter what?”
T
hat shocked him into silence. The waitress reappeared to take their dinner orders before he could answer. Laura handed her the menu. “I’ll have the grouper Florentine with a baked potato, extra sour cream please, and asparagus.”
She looked at Rob as his grin spread ear to ear. Somehow that seemed to annoy her. “What?” she snapped.
“That’s what you always ordered.”
* * * *
Laura reined in her temper, not wanting a repeat of their fight Saturday morning. She apologized, he leaned over and kissed her, and they moved past the incident to settle into a comfortable conversation. Rob pulled her concealed carry permit out of his pocket and handed it to her.
“And here’s this.” He smiled, but she noticed it held no humor. “You’re now legal.”
She studied it. Yes, she’d been carrying the gun, actually feeling vulnerable when she took it off for a shower, or to put it in the drawer of the nightstand to sleep. “Thanks.” She slipped it into her wallet. “Not sure if I should hope I do or don’t need to use it.”
Once their food arrived he broached the subject again.
“Would you consider seeing a jerk like me exclusively?”
She laughed, nearly choking on a bite of grouper. “Is that how you asked me the first time?”
“No,” he admitted. “But I feel pretty vulnerable right now, so I felt honesty was probably the best approach.”
She tilted her head, considering. “I guess since you saw me looking like something out of a George Romero flick and still wanted me, I should give you a chance.”
His jaw fell open.
“What?” she asked.
“That’s something you used to say. You love his movies.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
“See? There’s hope then, isn’t there?”
He smiled. “I hope so.”
“Then yes. I think we should.”
“Should what?”
“You aren’t chickening out on me already are you?”
“Huh? Oh! Sorry.” He laughed. “No, I’m not chickening out on you.” He took her hands in his and gently squeezed them. “I would never do that.”
* * * *
After dinner they walked along the beach, by the Boca Grand lighthouse. It was a beautiful, cloudless night. Under a quarter-full moon, and with only the inky Gulf out to the west, the stars shimmered overhead like a magical blanket. The warm evening was tempered by the cool breeze coming off the Gulf. There were a few boats out in the Pass getting in some night fishing, but other than that, they were alone.
Rob risked feeling for her hand and she let him take it. Almost like old times.
Almost.
Before, he would have taken her home and they would have made love before falling asleep entwined like an ancient puzzle.
Before, they would have deeply kissed before parting and said “I love you” to each other.
Before.
Rob wanted to kill the bastard who took not only Laura’s memory, but his life. His future. The old Laura might never return, and neither might the happiness he used to know.
They stopped by the ruins of the old phosphate docks and she looked across the pass toward Don Pedro Island. “What’s that?”
She hadn’t been out in the boat yet, Steve refusing to take her out on the water until her ribs were completely healed. Rob explained it to her, pointing out landmarks. She never needed a chart close to shore before. She used to have every barrier island, every fishing cove, every sandbar committed to memory.
There was that word again. While her dive knowledge was intact, apparently her navigational expertise was still MIA.
The no-see-ums swarmed and she asked to go home. They returned in separate cars to her condo. Steve had brought Doogie home for her from the shop. When Rob reached for the leash to take him out, she stopped him.
“I’ll take him.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
“It’s okay. I can handle it.” She patted the small of her back. “I’m legally packing, now, remember?” She smiled, but it held no humor.
She clipped the lead to the Lab’s collar and they went out. Rob kicked his shoes off by the door and waited nervously until they returned a few minutes later.
“See?” She smiled. “I’m getting better all the time.”
They watched TV until the eleven o’clock news. Laura yawned and couldn’t stop. “I have to go to sleep or I won’t be able to wake up in the morning.”
He nodded. “All right. I’ll be right there. I want to check the locks and get the coffeepot set for in the morning.”
She patted his leg and after hesitating for a moment, kissed him on the lips. “Good night, Rob.”
“Night.”
His eyes followed her down the hall. It was strange watching her walk away from him with not only a different gait, but now a different look, too. She wasn’t his Laura.
Then a chilling thought struck him—could he get used to the new Laura?
Chapter Twenty-Four
When Rob awoke the next morning, Laura had already left for the shop. A note lay on the counter next to a fresh pot of coffee.
Maybe we could have dinner at your place tonight? Bring Doogie by the shop if you need to. - L.
His stomach knotted. It was their house. They owned it together. They’d thought of it as theirs, not his.
They had agreed she would rent out the condo after the wedding and move in with him.
Before.
He slammed his fist against the counter hard enough to rattle the glasses in the drainer. Doogie ran into the kitchen, worried.
“It’s okay, boy.” He spent a moment loving the dog before going to get a shower.
* * * *
“You’re in awful early, kiddo,” Steve observed.
Laura set her coffee cup on the desk. “I woke up early.” The truth was, she wanted to be out of the house before Rob woke up. She didn’t want to face him, afraid he’d sense the mood she was in.
Despite having his comforting presence next to her in bed, nightmares plagued her. Not just the one about the door and the shadow, which she’d sadly come to expect every night. But dreams about other men, sexy, strange, odd dreams involving bondage and spankings.
And orgasms.
And Rob hadn’t been in them.
She didn’t want to be faced with trying to explain all of that to him when she didn’t even understand it.
Steve puttered around the shop for ten minutes before finally planting himself next to her desk.
“So?”
“So…what?”
“Laura, you never could play that game with me. How did Rob react to the new hairstyle?”
She shrugged. “I think he was a little freaked out.”
Steve waited for her to continue but she didn’t. “And then what happened?”
“Not much. We had dinner, took a walk, went home. That’s about it.”
He shook his head. “For a writer, you aren’t a very good storyteller.”
The fact was she hadn’t done any writing since the attack. She spent several hours going through her past articles and the journals she’d found, but she worried perhaps that part of her was gone forever.
“I’ve just got a lot of stuff to do. That’s all.”
“You were never a good liar, either. Did you have a fight?”
“No, no fight. Really.”
He finally left her alone. She didn’t want to think about it. Yes she did want to “date” Rob. Going “steady.” Sounded pretty sophomoric. Considering she was rebuilding her life from the ground up, maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. She still hadn’t found the missing journals. Rob said he never snooped and never had a need to know where she kept them or what she wrote in them.
So he said.
Not that she had a reason to not trust him, the truth was, she didn’t know if she could or not no matter how much she wanted to. If she could find the journals, the path back to her memories might
be shortened considerably. Over the past couple of days, she had noticed little odd snippets suddenly appearing in her memories after reading through the old journals. As if seeing it in black and white made a difference.
What concerned her was she had no idea what kind of person she was in her relationship with Rob other than what people told her. Was she really in love with Rob and had accepted his proposal because she wanted to spend her life with him, or did she accept to remove the loneliness from her life? Was she strong and self-directed, or was she a totally codependent wuss, afraid to stand on her own two feet?
A journal could open a lot of doors for her that secondhand retelling could never unlock.
Later that afternoon, a man walked in and browsed the dive gear.
“Can I help you?”
When he looked at her and smiled, she felt something tighten in her gut.
“Actually, yes,” he said. “I need new gear plus a refresher class. My ex-wife got all my stuff, and it’s been about five years since I last dove. I finally got moved into my new place and I’m ready to start diving again.”
He was maybe in his late thirties. Tall, dark blond hair, almost brown. Looked like he worked in an office but he wasn’t pale. Trim. Piercing green eyes.
Do I know him? “Sure. What’s your price range?” With business to conduct she pushed all emotions out of the way and went to work. It wasn’t until he was out the door with a complete new rig and signed up for a weekend refresher class she realized how odd she felt. A rush she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t that she was attracted to him, although he was a fairly decent-looking guy, but there was something else there she couldn’t name.
Steve came in from the dock and looked over her shoulder at the charge copy of his receipt. “Wow. That guy must be made of money. Did you make sure the credit card wasn’t hot?”
“Yeah. It’s okay.”
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “Nothing, I guess. Just a strange feeling.”
Steve looked out the window but the customer had already driven away. “Why? Did you recognize him or something?”