Unremembered (Unremembered #1)(34)

Tall.

Red hair.

Matching beard.

It’s the same man I saw on the bus yesterday in Los Angeles and again near Heather and Scott’s house on the way back from the restaurant. His face is buried in a newspaper. He looks up momentarily and gives me a half-smile. My whole body freezes and I consider running again. Maybe I should just get out of this town as fast as possible and stop to eat later.

But then he goes back to his reading, seemingly unconcerned with me, and I remind myself to stop being so paranoid. He’s probably a harmless local resident.

Who happened to be in Los Angeles yesterday.

It doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

Or maybe I’m simply confusing him with someone else.

I choose the side of the booth with the best view of the counter so I can keep an eye on him – just in case – and slide in. The woman places the menu down in front of me and I scan it in one glance. ‘Grilled cheese sandwich, please,’ I say as she’s about to walk away.

She smiles, nods and takes the menu back. ‘You got it.’

Then I wait. I rest my chin on the palm of my hand and gaze out the window. There’s not much to see but the dark parking lot. I think about where I’m going to go. I have no plan. Except to figure out who I am. But I have no idea where to start. I suppose I should go back to Los Angeles. Maybe talk to Brittany again. Or see if I can find someone who can tell me more about the locket.

I feel its weight against my collarbone. I reach up and touch it, sliding my fingertips over the curious raised symbol. The endless knot.

‘I’m the one who gave it to you . . .’

I blink and look away from the window, choosing to focus on the tabletop instead. If I’m going to have any chance of figuring out who I am, I have to start over.

I have to toss out any clue or piece of information that came from that boy.

I have to figure this out on my own.

‘I know you,’ comes a deep male voice, interrupting my thoughts. When I look up I fully expect to see the redheaded man addressing me. But his face is still buried in his newspaper. Instead, it’s the man who was sitting at the front of the diner – the one who seemed the most interested in me when I walked in.

He’s out of his seat now and stalking towards me.

I don’t know what to do or where to look so I just pretend I didn’t hear him. But the closer he gets, the harder that is to do.

‘Yeah,’ he says almost ominously. ‘I know you. Hard to forget those purple eyes. I’ve never seen eyes that colour. Have to be contacts, right?’

I shake my head ever so slightly. I don’t know what contacts are, but I don’t exactly want to let him know that.

‘Don’t try to tell me they’re real!’ he says with a loud snort. ‘God don’t make eyes that colour. It’s not natural.’

He slides into the booth across from me and I feel my whole body stiffen again. I also notice the redheaded man look up from his newspaper and watch us with curiosity.

‘You’re that girl they pulled outta the ocean,’ the man continues. He has a large, bulky build and light brown hair that only covers half of his head. The rest is skin.

‘The one who survived that plane crash.’ He keeps talking. ‘A regular celebrity. We don’t get many of those round here. You really don’t remember anything, huh?’

I grip the edge of my seat and shake my head again.

‘What a shame.’ He makes a clicking sound with his tongue and drums his fingers on the tabletop. His hands are large, rough and covered in unsightly calluses.

‘What you doing up here in Wells Creek, of all places?’ he asks me.

I keep silent. There’s no way I’m going to tell him the real reason I’m here. The last thing I want to do is draw attention to the Carlsons.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asks. ‘Did you forget how to speak too?’ He starts to laugh. It’s a horrible cackling that sends tremors through my arms and legs.

‘Leave her alone,’ comes another voice. This time it is the redheaded man. His newspaper has been folded and placed on the counter and he’s rising up from his seat. He walks over to us and stands tall in front of the table. ‘She clearly doesn’t want to be bothered.’

The balding man throws his hands up in the air. ‘Whoa-ho!’ he calls out in a rugged voice. ‘I didn’t know her daddy was here with her.’ The cackling starts again and the muscles in my legs tighten, like loaded springs. I can feel my whole body preparing to leap. Almost as though it’s not even my choice. The reaction is automatic.

Exactly like what happened in the car – I feel the sudden unyielding urge to run.

I eye the window to my left, considering crashing right through it. Whatever it takes to get out of this place. Out of this booth. Away from him.

The redheaded man shoots me a look. A look I can only interpret as ‘Don’t worry. You’re safe’. But it’s not until I see the balding man rise from his seat that the muscles in my legs start to relax.

‘Sorry to bother you, young lady,’ he says in that same sarcastic tone that Cody always uses. He slowly saunters back to his stool on the other side of the diner. I watch him sit down and pull a cellphone out of his pocket. ‘The boys from the lumberyard are gonna crap their pants when they hear about this.’