I force myself to confront the message, reviewing it over and over again. Finally, I grunt in frustration. “No. I don’t know what a trigger is.”
Anna seems disappointed, but it can’t be more than I am.
“Wait. His tattoos,” I blurt out, pulse racing. “On his chest, there’s a gun.” My gaze shoots to Anna for confirmation, and a rush of exhilaration runs through me at her nod.
“Do you think that has something to do with the note?”
“Maybe not, but it reminded me of that. He has lots of tattoos. They…” I gasp. “They’re covering scars!”
“Yes! Anything else?”
I read the note several more times. It makes me sad—more than sad. Lonely. It reads like a goodbye. An explanation, maybe? My eyes widen, and I nearly drop it.
“I know what it means.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t remember the context, but this is a goodbye. I wanted him to know that I cared about him, even if it didn’t seem like it.”
“And he’s returning the sentiment now.”
The horrible tears bubble again, and I swallow them back down. “It appears so. I just wish I could make sense of the trigger part. It seems like that’s the key to something. Did he tell you anything that could help?”
“No, and he won’t. The less I know, the better. It’s the same with you. While I’ll do anything I can to help, I don’t want to know what comes back unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
I stare at his handwriting again. Heat radiates through me at the tangible piece of him. I want to hold it, clasp it to my heart and never let it go. “May I keep this?”
“That’s not a good idea. I know how much that must mean to you, but if you were caught—”
“Please, Anna, I’ll be careful. We can hide it. I just…” I grip it hard in my fist, pressed against my lips.
She sighs. “Let’s find a good hiding place.”
I study the note as often as I can, careful to tuck it away when necessary. Faint memories begin to return but only enough to remind me of the desperate state of the man I love, but don’t know and can’t save. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll survive this excruciating wait.
Anna bursts into the room one morning with an excitement missing since the delivery of the note.
“You have news,” I say as she closes the door.
“Better than that.” She pulls out her phone and starts scrolling. “I have a message for you.” She finds her target and hands me the device.
My heart races at the image. “That’s him, isn’t it?”
Anna nods. “Yes. I was finally able to get to him. Press play when you’re ready.”
I hold my breath, hands shaking as I begin the recording.
“Hi, Rebecca. I know you’re probably scared right now, and I’m sorry we had to do this again. It was the only way I could get you out of here, and maybe one day you’ll forgive me.”
Daniel’s confident tone and slight accent ignite a host of familiar sensations. Warmth, hope, even a burn of deep passion that flares through every part of me. But the initial optimism wears off the longer I study his worn, defeated appearance. This is a man trying to put on a brave front.
“Anna tells me you’re frustrated but doing well.I’m just glad you’re okay.If your memories come back, you’ll be able to figure out what happened. In the meantime, you can trust Anna. All of this was for nothing if you end up back here, and I couldn’t live with that. Take care of yourself, Rebecca. I—” He stops and shakes his head before reaching over to stop the recording.
That’s it. That’s our reunion.
“What are they doing to him?” I say quietly. “He looks so tired. So broken.”
Anna pulls in a sharp breath. “If I tell you that, it will reveal more than I can. It’s why I’m here though, and we need to find your memories so we can help him.”
