Page 25 of Hunted in Hope Town

Ellis sighed. “The fact of the matter is, a very small number of people know your true identity and how you came to be a resident of Hope Town. There’s me. There’s Zach. Faith and Lane know some things about our relationship, about my connection to the FBI, but not the details of why you’re in Hope Town or where you came from. I suppose, with my real name, they might have been able to figure out some things, but nothing that would actually bring a threat to our door. Dr. Leigh is really…the only person aside from Zach and I who knows almost the full picture. So we want to make sure there’s no breach there. I just need to know what you talk to her about, and we’ll go from there.”

She thought about her sessions with Dr. Leigh. They weren’t always comfortable. She didn’t always leave feeling happy or settled or supported, but… But she had trusted Dr. Leigh implicitly. About everything. It was terrifying that someone she’d trusted might be a problem, that she might have unknowingly and unwillingly said something to cause all…this.

But Ellis knew everything. He was the ringleader of this whole…whatever it was. He was her husband. “You’re telling me Dr. Leigh didn’t tell you anything about our sessions?”

“The only thing she’s discussed with me is how to approach you. How to be around you. She’s never gotten into the details of your sessions. She—and I—considered that private. Patient-doctor confidentiality.”

How to approach you. Dr. Leigh had spoken of Ellis on occasion, on what he made her feel. Because she asked about all the people Jessica came into contact with. Because Dr. Leigh had been working with her on trusting her own instincts, her own feelings.

It’s the only way you can navigate through the world without memories, Jessica. To develop your own sense of self, your own judgments. Had that even been real?

The thought of this all made panic start beating in her chest again. How could she develop anything when she wasn’t anyone she remembered? When she was married and a target and—

Ellis stood and crossed over to her. He crouched in front of her, putting a light hand over the one clutching her own thigh.

“Kirsten,” he said, calmly and directly.

She managed to look away from his hand on hers and met his gaze. She still wasn’t used to him calling her that, but she’d told him to. Insisted. In this moment, she wished she hadn’t. She wanted to ignore Kirsten and him and a past she couldn’t remember, and pretend everything was simple.

But it wasn’t simple, and she had a role in it. She cleared her throat, surprisingly steadied by his hand on hers.

“I tell her how I’ve been feeling. We talk a lot about…when I’m anxious. What is the source of that anxiety. Obviously, I think it’s what I don’t remember. She’s worked with me on…trusting myself. Making my own mind up about situations and people even though I don’t remember.”

Ellis nodded, still crouching there in what had to be an uncomfortable position. “Okay, good. What about these dreams—like me being shot. Did you tell her about those?”

“Not the one about you being shot. I was going to make an appointment Monday, because everything felt so…unsettled. But I hadn’t done it yet.”

“Were there other dreams you shared with her?”

She thought back. Tried to remember. Probably, but nothing concrete came to mind in this moment. She looked at him helplessly.

“Ellis, she’s been… She’s been a touchstone. A foundation for me these past two years. I couldn’t have settled into a life with such a blank slate without her guiding me.”

His expression was grim. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

ELLIS HATED HOW destroyed she looked. Like he’d ripped out all her foundations and she was left with nothing.

Isn’t that your MO?

“I’m sorry. I know this isn’t—”

“What if we told her I remembered?” Kirsten demanded, sharp and determined.

Enough that Ellis was taken aback. “Why… What?”

She took his hand out from under hers and got to her feet, so he had to as well. He stepped back as she began to pace. Not like a woman who’d had her foundations ripped out, but like a woman with a plan.

“We tell her I remember and see how she reacts. See if she acts weird about it. Wouldn’t that be a sign that she’s involved in something?”

“If she’s involved, if she’s a threat, we wouldn’t want her thinking that you remember. Particularly when you don’t.”

“Why not? If it gets to the bottom of the threat, doesn’t that mean we can protect ourselves from it?”

He’d believed that. Once.

“It’s too risky. It’s—”

“What if we bring it up to her like, like couples counseling. For getting through two years of not remembering we were married. Maybe we say the whole…crime part of it is still fuzzy. I don’t remember how I came to have amnesia. I just remember you. Us.”