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The loud tinny sound of metal hitting tile clatters behind me, startling me. My heart thumps painfully in my chest. My breath gets caught in my lungs. And I’m dragged back to another time. In another kitchen.
Dark and cold and deadly.
24
TROY
March, Present Day
Maple Ridge
Monday morning,Kellan and I meet for coffee at Picnic & Treats. We arrive at the same time and enter the café.
My phone rings from my jeans pocket. I pull it out and check who’s calling. Zara?
I hit Accept. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Where are you?” Her tone isn’t friendly like I expected. It’s urgent and panicked.
“At the counter, getting ready to order coffee. Why? Where are you?”
The line goes dead. A second later, the kitchen door flies open. Zara rushes out, heading straight for us. She grabs my arm and drags me past the counter and toward the kitchen door. Kellan follows us.
What the hell?“What’s going on, Zara?”
“It’s Jessica.” The panic hasn’t left her voice. If anything, it seems greater than before.
We step through the doorway. Jessica isn’t in the kitchen. Keshia is standing near the wall, her eyes wide, and she’s looking at something behind the workbench in the center of the room.
Zara rounds the bench with me in tow. It’s only once we’ve cleared it that I discover what Keshia is looking at.
Jess is on the floor in the corner, her back pressed against the wall. Her knees are pulled to her chest, one arm wrapped tightly around them. She’s staring into space and her body is trembling. A knife is clutched in her hand, held up as if to protect herself from an attacker.
Oh, fuck.
Zara lets go of my arm. “I was talking to her when a pan fell on the floor. She was chopping carrots and had the knife in her hand. Keshia and I have tried talking to her from a safe distance, but it’s like we’re not even here.”
“How long has she been like this?”
“Two or three minutes.”
Christ.I can’t imagine what Jess is going through.
I keep my eyes on her, but my next question is still for Zara. “Do you have a small blanket or something?”
“I do. In the staff room.” Zara rushes off, the soles of her shoes squeaking on the tile floor.
“Hey, Jess.” The words are spoken with the level of calm one uses when defusing a land mine. I maintain my distance, more for her benefit than mine. Kellan stands next to Keshia.
Jess doesn’t look up. She doesn’t even acknowledge my presence.
“It’s Troy. Everything’s going to be okay. You’re safe, Jessica. No one is going to hurt you.” I keep repeating myself, not knowing how much of my words or voice she’s registering.
Zara returns and hands me a wrap. “Should I call nine-one-one?”
“Not yet.” I’m concerned what will happen if the cops see Jess holding a knife. Things might not go well if we end up with a twitchy officer.
It’s not uncommon for war vets to experience a flashback after hearing a loud bang. Is that what happened to her? At some point someone shot at her? Is that her traumatic event?
