Help Me Remember (Rose Canyon, #1)(77)

“Strawberry?”

“It’s what I call my wife in Italian. Red, sweet, and rots if you leave it for too long. Like all women.”

I laugh and then lock the door as he instructed.





Chapter Twenty-Eight





SPENCER





I haven’t slept yet. I can’t. My mind is going in circles as I try to work this out.

There’s something that isn’t adding up.

I know Brielle thought the money was the tie in for this, but so far, it’s all checking out to be legal.

I was an idiot for not chasing that down sooner.

I open my document and review the first thing I’ve written in a year. My mind works when I’m exploring a story, so this is the story—her. Brielle Davis, a beautiful, vibrant girl whose entire life was altered by a single person.

As I type, the story becomes real. Each word adds to the picture of Brielle and Isaac that morning. Based on one of the neighbor’s security cameras, he picked her up at 6:06. He was driving her because Brielle’s car was in the shop for new brakes. I’d offered to drive her, but she was adamant we keep things as they were until she talked to him about us. We had a plan. In three days, we were going to dinner at Isaac’s. He was projected to win the game and there was no better time than that, if he lost, we figured it would maybe soften the blow.

I wish we hadn’t waited. Isaac should’ve known how much I loved his sister, and no matter what happens, I will always regret that.

I keep writing the order of the day. How they drove down First Street and turned left onto Maple Ave. As they drove through the downtown area, there were flyers up for the big game that coming Friday. That team was why Isaac had been so willing to go into school early. He loved to game plan. Coaching was his pride and joy until his daughter was born.

I can see the sun just peeking up over the mountains in the distance, the sky painted in light blue and yellow, chasing away the dark blues.

My fingers fly over the keys, writing at a pace I haven’t done in so long, but the more I write, the more real it becomes. They pulled into the coffee shop around nine minutes later, probably laughing about something stupid he said. He was always telling horrible jokes, and Brielle was letting him know how dumb they were. Maybe they were discussing something cute Elodie did that day before he left to get his sister.

As I move back, ready to start going over it again, there’s a knock on my office door.

I look over and Emmett is there.

“How did you get in?”

“I have a key,” he says, lifting it.

“Right.”

We all have keys to each other’s homes. That’s what family does.

I glance at the laptop and then back to him. “I need to work.”

He moves into the room. “You’re writing.”

“I am.”

“What’s it about?”

“What do you think?” I counter.

Emmett leans against the wall, arms crossed. “I came to make sure you’re all right. I thought maybe you would need a friend—and a drink. Also, I got a call from Holden, and it seems he’s coming back.”

So much for writing. I close the laptop and sigh. “Why is he coming back?”

“His aunt isn’t doing well, so he’s moving back at the end of the month to take care of her. However, that’s not why I’m here. Not really.”

“I didn’t think that was the case.” Emmett would’ve sent a text for that. “You heard about Brie?”

Emmett nods. “I did. Are you okay?”

“No, but I know I can fix it. We’ll talk in—” I look down at my watch. Jesus Christ. It’s eight in the morning. I’ve been going over every tip, lead, and clue since yesterday morning. “A few hours. I need to finish this and see what I can find.”

“What have you found so far?” he asks as his eyes glance around my office.

If I thought this place was a mess yesterday, it’s nothing compared to this. The back wall has a timeline with photos, arrows, and different facts I needed to keep in mind. I stared at it for hours, trying to make sense of everything.

Getting up after sitting for God knows how long reminds me I’m not twenty anymore, and I stretch as I make my way over to the wall. Emmett follows, and I walk him through the information.

“What about this guy?” He points to Jax. “He seems totally harmless.”

“That’s what I can’t work out. When Brie . . . when she was at her appointment yesterday, she said she heard his voice as the shooter.”

“And no one thought to tell me that?”

“It was sort of a rough day.”

Emmett nods. “Right. Carry on.”

“The thing is, Dr. Girardo doesn’t think the memory is real. He made a point to say it isn’t, but he didn’t explain what made him think that.”

“He doesn’t know Jax, right?”

I shake my head. “I doubt it. Not unless he met him sometime in the last few weeks.”

Emmett keeps moving along the timeline I laid out. “Is this everyone who came to the hospital?”

“Yes, all the visitors in and out.”

He quirks a brow. “And how did you manage to get it?”