“It was nothing,” Emma said quickly. She shook her head. “I was rattled to be behind the wheel at all. I don’t drive.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged. “I never cared for it. Once I started college in Chicago, I never left. I don’t need or want a car in the city. I have no place to park near my apartment.”
He nodded. “Okay, so you weren’t thrilled to be on the road. Did your emotions play into your apprehension?”
“I don’t know. It was dark.” Her voice cracked.
The investigator in Daniel wanted to push a little on that soft spot. Clearly, driving in the rain was a big deal. Was she unnerved by driving or the weather? Liz had died during a summer storm. With more pressure, Emma would divulge her true feelings.
But he eased up. Learning when to prod and when to pause had been a decades long undertaking. “Did you hear anything at the camp? Before you left?”
She shook her head. “The storm was booming. A branch was struck a few feet away from me.”
“By lightning?” Daniel wrinkled his brow. With the new information, gunfire made more sense. “Could you show me where?”
“Maybe in the morning? It’s so dark now I’d be turned around.”
“Fair enough.” He’d do a sweep on his own. Finding a casing would be miraculous. By now, the storm had probably washed away any trace evidence. He turned onto the gravel road leading to the camp. “If you remember anything else, you’ll tell me?”
“Sure. What’s your number?”
He pulled into the parking lot next to the mess hall. “You won’t need it. I’ll be staying here.”
“Why? Am I in danger?” Her eyes looked wild and scared. “I was hoping the hospital was a random thing.”
He almost told her everything then. His suspicions, his fears, his investigation. But doing so would only make her afraid. Paranoia wasn’t a positive. Neither was his urge to cover her hand with his. “I just want to be sure about a few things.”
She shuddered. “Can we pray?”
“I’d love that.” He smiled, feeling the grin down to his toes. He was glad to know she leaned on her faith for comfort. Some important things never changed.
Three
Emma was glad Daniel drove her back to camp. While he wasn’t the boy she counted on as a friend, he was the one she needed now. His professional demeanor added a layer of calm to an extraordinary turn of events. She could lean on him and trust him. Those two facts had always been true—even when she’d found it hard to do either in the years after Liz passed. Any memories of her last years at high school became blurred with regret over her sister. Emma avoided home to not have to face close encounters with people that had been her neighbors and morphed into strangers.
Daniel hadn’t done anything to deserve the way she shut him out of her life. She’d needed space from loving faces recalling moments tinged with pity that she couldn’t connect to. Retrograde amnesia was her official diagnosis, and the affliction might last the rest of her life. She hated telling others and seeing their eyes glaze or roll, like she made it up thanks to an internet search. She wanted to remember.
With a shake, she studied the passing landscape, trying to make out anything in the dark night. The decades away had softened her soul and stiffened her spine. She trusted the path she was on, but she was glad for a second chance to right past wrongs. Daniel matured into a solid, steady man. Handsome, too. She couldn’t go down that road. Pursuing a relationship long distance wasn’t in the cards and until she had her memories back entirely she wasn’t whole enough for romance. She’d restrict her feelings to friendship and be glad for the time together, no matter how limited.
While she could start fresh with him, she wasn’t sure of the same in reverse. He’d want to discuss their past. She hated the judgement when she couldn’t share in the conversation and stared blankly ahead.
For the time being, she was relieved he’d be sticking around the camp. She wasn’t sure she could explain what had happened or how the accident had occurred to the other campers. Campers. She shook her head, dislodging the wrong definition. No one at the camp was a kid anymore. They didn’t need adult supervision.
For a second, she longed to travel back more than two decades ago. When everything was safe and easy to explain. Before she had adult responsibilities. And real-life consequences. “I don’t know why anyone would attack me,” she said, breaking the silence.
“Do you have any enemies?”
She shook her head. “None that I’m aware of. No one knows I’m here. Why target me? How?”
The patrol vehicle pulled into the gravel lot, tires crunching over the small stones.
“I promise I’ll keep you safe. Are you ready to go in?” Daniel asked, parking the vehicle but leaving the engine running.
She was tired, wet, and cold. She longed for dry clothes and a fuzzy blanket. Her eyelids and head were heavy, keeping both up exerted effort. The thin, broken-spring mattress on the top bunk had never been so welcoming. “I’m not ready to face everyone, but I guess we better go inside. You’re in charge, Sheriff.” She unbuckled her seat belt.
He held up a hand. “Wait for a second. Please?”
