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I’ve seen, from experience owning a private security company and taking some cases on hand, that people who don't trust anyone can become violent or run away if they sense any danger, no matter how minimal. The last thing I need is to have a woman who has no identity running out into a town where she knows nobody after I had assured Owen that I would personally ensure her safety.
I’m gathering the dishes into the sink when Madison comes running in, eyes wide in fright.
“What happened?” I ask, trying to keep calm.
“Lily,” she points. “I don’t know, but she’s… I think she’s having a bad dream. I knocked as you said, and I tried waking her up, but she started turning in the bed and shaking her head and—”
I leave Madison in the kitchen and race to Lily’s bedroom, dashing in when I see her thrashing on the bed, trying to fight off something with her hands. I stay a good distance away from her bed, not for my safety as much as hers. Whatever is happening, it looks reminiscent of something terrible, and I don’t want to trigger anything worse.
“Lily,” I say aloud. “Lily, you're safe. Whatever is going on right now is just a dream. It isn't happening in real life, so you need to open your eyes.”
I repeat the words until she stops reaching out and then approach her to lay a hand on her shoulder. The heat shocks me, and I immediately place my hand on her forehead,
Her eyes fly open at that exact moment, and she slaps my hand away violently.
“Don’t touch me!”
“Okay, okay,” I say, raising both hands and backing away. “You were having a nightmare,” I say, “and I was trying to wake you up.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “You were thrashing, and I didn’t want you hurting yourself. I’m sorry if I stepped out of line.”
She shakes her head. “No, you didn’t. You were only trying to help.”
“I brought breakfast,” I say. “I’ll place it on the nightstand and give you space.”
“Is she okay?” Madison asks when I go to the dining area to have breakfast with her, as is our tradition every time we come here.
I nod, scooping some eggs from my plate onto hers. “Yeah, she is.”
“She was saying something when I went inside. I didn't hear everything, but I heardleave me alone,” Madison says.
The forkful of eggs going to my mouth pauses midway as I turn to my daughter with narrowed eyes. “She said those exact words?”
“I’m not five, you know. I can tell what people are saying, even the big words. She said, ‘leave me alone,’ and started throwing her arms out. I think she was trying to push somebody away, but nobody was in the room, so I came to get you. Do you think someone did something bad to her?”
I’m worried about that now.But I can’t have Madison wondering the same thing. So, I put on a bright smile and reach out to touch her hair.
“No, darling. Nothing bad happened to her. Doctor Owen confirmed that, remember?”
Madison frowns, like every nine-year-old who's more intelligent than their age would be. “Why can she not remember anything, then? Uncle Ethan said that when people get into bad things, they can lose their memory from PTSD.”
I roll my eyes and sigh. Ethan—the cop who has no filter around my daughter. He’s convinced she will take after either of us, going into the business of protecting people, so it is never too early to teach her a few things. He keeps it light, but I have no intention of letting Madison follow in my or Ethan’s shoes.
“Ethan says many things,” I tell her, “Doesn’t mean those things apply in every setting. In this case, Lily can't remember many things because she fell and hit her head. Head injuries can cause amnesia, and sometimes the brain gets a little confusedwith what it tries to remember, that it creates false memories,” I say, churning out an explanation that is true in its sense but doesn’t apply to the situation at hand.
Madison seems satisfied with it because she smacks her lips, nods, and goes on eating. Thankfully, the rest of breakfast goes without a hassle, except for a few questions about school and going to see some parts of the town later in the day. Before she runs to her room, Madison makes me promise to take her into the town later.
“I promise,” I say.
“Okay.” She grins and scampers off.
I collect the dishes from the table and head to the kitchen to wash them. My mind goes back to the scene in Lily’s room and what Madison said she heard. In my years of working in the private security industry, I have learned that it is crucial to consider all options, and this… for some reason, worries me. Silverpeak, as a town, is relatively calm, but there have been reports of some kidnapping rings operating in and around Colorado.
My closest friend Ethan Hawk worked on an unsolved case five years ago, and the trail led him to Colorado before it ran cold. Could it be that she escaped? It would explain the flimsy dress, the frailness of her bones, and the bruise on her head—although a simple fall could have caused that bruise. But Lily’s reaction when I touched her, how she slapped my hand away, and the initial fright that gave way to rage.
All of it could be signs of mistrust as a result of being held by a kidnapping ring. Then again, I stroke my chin, getting some suds on my five o’clock shadow. She did lose her memory. Anyone would lash out like that if they couldn’t remember anything and opened their eyes to see a stranger standing close.
