Erica devoured her slice of pizza. The first meal after crossing over was often the best. Then again, she wasn't sure if she had the old Erica's pre-death hangover to blame. She and the sheriff were both wearing different outfits than earlier as they sat in a hole-in-the-wall pizza joint 20 minutes outside of town. She was wearing a t-shirt sporting the logo of the local minor league baseball team. The sheriff donned a hoodie with a prominent picture of the state bird. He had a pleasant, glassy look in his eyes. Erica knew he wouldn't remember anything from today after what she did to him.
When Erica sent the burst of energy through the sheriff's head, she was able to navigate through his memories. She looked for everything she could about the living soul. There were no reports of unusual occurrences with people or objects floating around when they weren't supposed to. She couldn't find any incidents of mass homicide in the last five years, either. She was happy that neither challenge had surfaced, as it gave her more time to relax with a free meal, but it didn't give her any clues, either. Before she exited the sheriff's brain, she became curious about her own death, and she dug in further. It was true they'd never found her body, though she thought there might be some clue as to the identify of her killer. Unfortunately, the sheriff and the regional FBI office got nowhere on her case. They couldn't find her phone, her email and social media accounts had been erased and nobody knew where she was the night she disappeared. Whoever killed her knew how to cover their tracks.
Erica's last action in the sheriff's brain was to implant a suggestion. She didn't give the specifications of her mission, but she did tell him to help her in any way that he could, going forward. He wouldn't be a lackey, per say, he would be a helpful ally in a difficult fight. At least he would be tomorrow. For the rest of today, the sheriff would only be able to respond to simple commands and answer basic questions. He looked quite peaceful, though.
Erica appreciated the quiet. She'd asked the sheriff to take them somewhere they wouldn't be recognized. Aside from the guy behind the counter, nobody had even come inside the restaurant since they arrived.
"This place is fantastic," she said. "I wish I could stay here. I could pretend that everything's normal."
The sheriff looked straight ahead and munched on his slice of pepperoni.
"I was a kid when I got pulled into this. I realize, I look like a kid now, but I've been around the block a few times."
The sheriff continued to stare. Erica leaned her back against the booth and loosely clasped her fingers together in her lap.
"I could tell you all my deepest darkest secrets and you wouldn't remember. But, I'd feel like a jerk. How are Erica's… how are my parents?"
The sheriff washed down his mouthful of cheese and crust with a slurp of soda.
"Your father was in shock," he said. "He's coping. Your mother and my daughter led a search party for weeks."
Erica knew she didn't cause this pain – she was a world away when it all happened – but she still felt horrible. There's no worse thing than a parent losing a child. Erica hoped not to cause her new parents that same grief a second time.
"Jennifer was leading the search party?"
"She blamed herself for your disappearance. She said she should have protected you."
Erica had seen enough memories to know that Jennifer never could have stopped her friend. There was something inside the old Erica that made her want to be a part of every adventure and to experience all of life at once. No argument, not even a well-reasoned one from Jennifer, would have made Erica change her life view.
It took her a second to realize she was tearing up. Erica picked up her greasy napkin and searched for a dry corner to dab her eyes.
"I have to stop doing this," Erica said. "In my world, they tell me not to find out. They tell me not to try to remember how my body died and who it hurt. I'm just too curious, I suppose."
The sheriff went back to eating his pizza. The state of his brain made the conversation just like Jeopardy. Everything had to be phrased in the form of a question.
"Do you think I should just ignore the past and push forward?"
"Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it," he said.
"Well spoken."
The wave of sadness faded slowly. She wiped the last of the tears and a bit of oil away from her cheek. Some of her peers from the other world thought she shouldn't be involved in missions to cross over because she was too emotional. They blamed it on the fact that she used to be human.