as Bo read through one particularly interesting medical report online, a theory formed in his mind. He found the number of a psychologist he knew who served the police and the fire departments, and called the number, finding himself on the line with Dr. Newcomb minutes later.
“How can I help you, Marshal?”
“I’m investigating the arson case that killed a fireman in February, and left one with serious brain damage and memory loss. I was wondering if you had a second to answer some questions.”
“I do. I remember the case. I talked with Erin Riley. That’s in the report, so it’s not protected information, though I can’t share any of what we spoke about, of course.”
“Of course. I wanted to ask you about the type of amnesia Erin has. Her neurologist called it retrograde amnesia, caused by the head trauma she suffered, and probably from the brain surgeries, as well.”
“Yes, I recall. I’ve never had a patient with nearly complete amnesia. Is she doing well?”
“I thought you said you were talking to her?”
“Only three times after she left the hospital, and then she opted not to come back.”
Bo smirked. Sounded like Erin. She never did like doctors.
“I was reading up on it on the internet, and I wondered if the neurologist could have had it wrong. I was reading about a kind of amnesia called dissociative amnesia, where she could be blocking something traumatic—something stressful that her brain doesn’t want to remember. Could it be that instead? Do you think she could have seen something at the fire that was so traumatizing that she doesn’t want to remember it?”
“It’s possible, though usually dissociative amnesia wouldn’t be so encompassing. She might block the event, or things related to it, but not her entire life for over a decade.”
“I see. Is it possible to have both? Perhaps the brain damage made what would otherwise just be selective forgetting much worse?”
“Hmm. It’s definitely possible. Why do you think this could be the case?”
“I’m not a doctor, of course, but Erin has been remembering a few details regarding a long-term relationship she had—and she thinks that if she could be with the person in that relationship, she might remember more. Is that possible?”
“It’s a very good sign that she’s remembered anything—that’s promising. It could take days or years, there’s no telling. The brain is unpredictable. But triggers are a key factor—if there’s a strong enough trigger, something so important to her, or so deep in her mind that she’s recollecting it, it’s certainly wise to pursue that. There’s no way to know what or how much she might recall, but it’s certainly possible that opening one strong channel of memory could lead to more recollections. And if she is repressing memories that are too frightening to recall, being with someone who makes her feel safe could help that rise to the surface, as well.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I’ll let her know.”
“Marshal Myers, please tell Erin she’s welcome in my office anytime, especially if she’s going through anything unsettling in this process. I’d love to work with her if she needs more support.”
“I’ll tell her. Thank you.”
Bo hung up, not sure if he should have made an appointment with the doctor. He probably needed his head examined for considering this, but it sounded as though it actually could be possible. That being with Erin could actually bring her memories back.
If that was the case, how could he move on with his life, into his future, and leave her behind without at least trying to help her get her life back, too?
Glancing up as other members of the office arrived, chatter floated in the door, and he smelled fresh coffee brewing. He got up and closed his door, needing to think.
He could potentially help Erin remember—maybe remember everything.
Was he really considering this?
He knew going in this time that there wouldn’t be any real reconciliation. They were still “over”— nothing would change that.
He had other plans, too—the job in Virginia, for starters. He’d be here for only a bit more than two months if he got the job. Less than that, since he’d have to give notice and get someone new to take his place here. His assistant was good, but he wasn’t ready to move up the ranks yet.
So that meant Bo had a month or so, just a few weeks, to cram in as much of their relationship as he could in hopes it might make her remember everything.
He just had to keep straight on the fact that he wasn’t in it this time for the long haul, either. It could be just sex for him, too. A way to get her out of his system?
Closure. A way to leave things better between them than they had before.
It was also a chance to close the case, potentially. Maybe a way to save lives, since they still had an arsonist out there who hadn’t been caught. What if Erin had seen something or experienced something that could help them find the person who had set that fire?
He knew he was talking himself into it, but it also made sense. There were more good reasons to take this risk than not to.
He’d already dialed her number, his phone in hand. He was surprised when she picked up.
“I thought you might not answer.” He didn’t bother with hellos.
“I didn’t see who it was first.”
She sounded tired. And cranky. For some reason, that made him smile. She was always irritable when she woke up.
“I’m sorry I was hard on you last night. Listen, I want to help if I can. Are you free today?”
“Say when.”
Her tone perked up considerably. Bo closed his eyes, steadying his breathing. This felt surreal.
“I’m taking the rest of the day off. I’ve got a few things to sort out. How about if I come by your place later?”
“Okay. I’ll be here.”
She sounded nervous now, too. “I just want to talk, Erin. We need to talk about it...first.”
“Okay. Sure. Good.”
With that, they hung up. Bo packed his stuff and told his assistant to beep him only if there was an emergency. Then he was in his truck, thinking about Erin, wondering if he wasn’t making a huge mistake. It wasn’t the first time he’d done that, and probably wouldn’t be the last.
* * *
KIT STOOD BY the door as she scanned the crowd for Erin’s cap of shiny brown hair. It was hard to see anyone in the busy crowd.
This was the place Erin usually went with her firehouse buddies, so it was where Kit figured she’d find her, but as far as she could see, there was no Erin.
She was doubly disappointed, having needed the break from her own worries. The past few months had been a balancing act, largely tilted to the side of addressing Erin’s crisis, which was obviously huge. But Kit had her own troubles to deal with. Her flower shop wasn’t doing well these days, especially with more people ordering flowers online or getting them at the local grocery stores. She’d been holding it together for a while, but she’d lost one large account last month, and the individual, walk-in business was dropping off, as well. In addition, getting good quality, fair-trade flowers wasn’t inexpensive.
Most consumers had no idea that the flowers they bought at many outlets or online at discount prices were often shipped from countries that farmed the blooms and exploited local people, usually women, to keep prices down and their own profits up. Kit supported only fair-trade suppliers, and that meant her flowers were more expensive than most, but she included fair-trade information with all purchases. She found that her customers liked knowing they were buying flowers that truly helped