Page 17 of Tangled Past
Chapter Seven
Asa’s world narrowed to just her.
Maya’s eyes widened, glassy with shock, her breath thin and uneven. Every protective instinct in him roared to life. For a moment, he didn’t even hear the crackle of the fireplace or the murmur of JT and Rachel.
Just the sound of Maya’s voice repeating inside his skull—
I was there . . . I saw it happen.
He tightened his grip on her elbow to steady her. “Maya, look at me.”
She lifted her gaze. Fear swam in the depths, but something else flickered there, too.
Recognition.
Truth clawing its way back from the dark.
Asa’s heartbeat hammered. “What do you remember?”
She swallowed hard, her throat working before she finally spoke. “There was a chime in the barn.” Her shaky hand touched her temple. “It was blowing in the wind from the open barn door. There was someone else there with me before your father.” Her frown deepened as she tried to pull the information out. “Something happened, and then your father showed up. He warned me to stay hidden. Then there were voices. Two. Onewas your father’s, and the other belonged to the man who shot him. They were arguing.”
Her knees wobbled again. Asa eased her into the nearest chair before she could fall.
“Don’t push the memories,” Rachel said from close by. “Just breathe. Let your mind settle. They’ll come.”
“I didn’t see his face,” she whispered, her gaze finding Asa. “The man who shot your father. At least I don’t think I saw his face.”
But she wasn’t certain.
A sharp, invisible dagger slid between Asa’s ribs. He wanted a name. A face. Anything. But he forced himself to stay calm for her sake. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “You remembered something real. That’s more than we had before.”
JT rested his hand on the back of a nearby chair and kept his voice low. “This is critical, Maya. Memory triggers can be unpredictable, but chimes, smells, sounds—they’re powerful. If one trigger brought this much back, there may be more.”
Maya nodded, her hands were clenched so tight her knuckles had gone white.
“Do you feel like the memory is gone again?” Asa asked softly. “Or is it still there, just out of reach?”
She didn’t answer right away, then she whispered, “It’s back behind a door I’ve locked away for years, but I can feel it pressing to get out again.”
The certainty in her voice stirred something fierce in Asa’s chest. Determination. Anger. Hope.
Rachel pushed off the chair. “This may be the start of the wall cracking, but it’s going to be confusing. Emotional. Even terrifying. Do not try to force anything.”
Asa nodded. “She’s right. We take this one step at a time.”
Maya drew in a shaky breath, her eyes flicking toward the front windows as if expecting to see someone watching.
Asa followed her gaze and only saw an empty sidewalk, winter-gray light, nothing out of place. Still, he couldn’t relax because he knew too well that danger didn’t always show its face right away. “Do you feel safe to talk more here?”
Her fingers curled into the blanket Rachel had draped over her lap. “I . . . I don’t know.”
He moved a little closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “I’m not leaving you alone. Not now. You don’t have to be afraid to say what you remember.”
Her breath caught—not in fear this time, but something quieter, almost fragile.
“Maya,” Asa said gently. “My dad wasn’t the only one in that barn with you. We don’t know what the shooter wanted except to kill Raymond and probably hide whatever he’d been up to. Yet for some reason, he spared you, and we do know he’s still out there. And I have no doubt he was at your cottage last night.”
The truth hung between them like a spray of cold water.
