I stare at the door where Dom disappeared, feeling suddenly bold. “We need to talk about what happened before the accident. Who I am and what we were to each other.”
Dom’s voice growls from the doorway—I hadn’t heard him return. “She’s not ready to talk about the accident. Or you!”
“I think she thinks differently,” I counter, not backing down. “And you can’t wrap her up in cotton wool. Her memory might come back quicker if she can talk about it. If we tell her everything that happened before the event.”
“Are you testing me, Caleb?” His eyes narrow dangerously.
“No, just letting Amara know I’m here for her, and I want the best for her.”
He looks at me and says, “It’s time for you to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I’ve spoken to Amara properly.”
“Well, that’ll have to wait. Her mom is here because your brother, Detective Miles, is on his way to interview Amara.”
25
Amara
“Do you remember anything,Miss Bailey?” Steely gray eyes stare at me as I sit on the sofa, my head pounding with the effort of trying to remember anything useful.
He has familiar features that make my heart skip. He looks just like Caleb, but harder somehow, more severe, and his hair is lighter.
Mom hovers nearby, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against her arm as she watches me.
I shake my head.
“Nothing at all?” Dom asks, his voice gentler than I’ve heard it before. “Even the smallest detail might help.”
I shake my head again, wincing at the pain the movement causes. “I’m sorry. It’s all just...blank.”
It’s not entirely true. There are footsteps in my memory. Heavy, purposeful footsteps follow me through the darkness whenever I close my eyes. The sound echoes in my mind, especially at night.
I push the thought away. I don’t know why, but something tells me to keep this fragment of my memory to myself.
Probably after overhearing Dom not being very kind about the detective asking the questions.
“Give her time,” Caleb says, his gray eyes finding mine across the room. “Memory can’t be forced.”
My mother scoffs. “How would you know? Are you a doctor now as well as a professor?”
Before Caleb can respond, the doorbell rings. Dom straightens his shoulders, all softness vanishing from his face.
“That’ll be my partner,” Detective Miles says as Dom moves toward the door with the confidence of a man who owns every room he enters.
Moments later, a man in a suit enters the living room.
“Miss Bailey, I’m Detective Stanley,” he says, extending his hand. “I work with Detective Miles in the Criminal Investigations department.”
“Have you found the person responsible for my hit and run?” I ask.
“We’re investigating a tip off that allegedly came from you about Club Angels and Sinners.”
“Me?”
“I think Professor Miles should leave,” Dom says, his voice leaving no room for argument.
I surprise myself by speaking up. “I’d like him to stay.” I don’t know why, but having Caleb here makes me feel safer.
