Page 9 of Tangled Past
“Someone wanted him dead, and it would appear they went to a lot of trouble to keep from being identified,” Asa asserted. “I believe it has everything to do with Maya Callahan.” The fear in her eyes had confirmed she might not remember what happened, but whatever it was, it was bad enough to wipe away all conscious thoughts of it.
“I spoke to Maya yesterday,” Asa said and waited for a reaction. He half expected JT to be angry with him for not listening to his advice.
“What’d she say?” JT asked instead.
“Nothing. She was scared. Not of me, but of what I said. She doesn’t remember anything about that night.” He told them about his uncle’s numerous discussions with her parents. “Uncle Jonas never spoke to Maya about my father. He just spoke to her adoptive parents, who said she had no recollection of that night. For obvious reasons, they didn’t want him talking to her.”
“I can understand,” JT told him. “My wife Rachel went through something similar years ago when she witnessed the murder of her father and cousin. She blocked out everything about what happened, and it almost destroyed her life after the killer continued to stalk her.”
Asa’s eyes whipped to meet JT’s. “How did she move forward with her life? Did she ever get those memories back?” He’d read Rachel’s dossier. She was one of the investigators at Hope Island Securities.
“Ultimately, yes, through hypnosis, but it didn’t come without a risk. Recovering memories that have been buried because of trauma has a way of retraumatizing the victim. And I have a feeling whatever Maya went through that ended up with her in the barn beside your father was so bad she’s buried it deep. Forcing those memories out can be potentially dangerousif not handled carefully and ethically. You risk the chance of false memories coming out, not to mention it can be emotionally overwhelming to revisit the traumatic experience. We don’t even know if Maya has any understanding of her involvement that night, despite what you brought up to her.” When Asa would have interrupted, JT added, “Above everything else, it has to be Maya’s choice.”
All the fight went out of Asa. “There must be something we can do.”
“I have a suggestion. I’ll ask Rachel to go with you to speak to her again. Rachel can tell her story. Maybe it’ll make a difference.”
“Thanks. I hope so.” It was something.
“Until then, let’s start going back over the file,” Declan said and pointed to the table. He glanced up at JT. “Think we need more eyes on the case.”
“You’re right. Boone, Ellie, and Bryce are still abroad. Janine and Rachel are handling the missing wife case. I can pull Rachel off if we need her. First, let’s call in Eli.”
“I’m on it,” Declan retrieved his cell.
The chief’s phone sounded an incoming message. “That’s work.” He scanned the message. “I’ll need to respond. Let me see what I can find out about the case from my end. I’m going to try to find the dispatcher.” He glanced down at the crime-scene photo of Raymond Dutton’s body taken inside the barn before his piercing gaze found Asa’s. “Something’s not right here, and I, for one, don’t like the way it smells.”
Asa’s attention returned to the information on the table. It was all so clinical, its language stripped of emotion, his life reduced to bullet points:
Victim.
Wounds.
Unaccompanied child.
Asa didn’t need the pages to remember. He had been there—a child soaked through by rain, flashlight trembling in his hand, a little boy watching his world collapse in a single breath.
He remembered his father’s voice more than anything. Strong even when he whispered. Calm even when everything was falling apart.
He also remembered the sound of a frightened little girl trying not to cry. For years, he had convinced himself he’d imagined her, or that some part of him had invented her to make those final minutes less unbearable. But she had been real and someone his father had shielded with his own life.
Asa drew a slow breath and pressed his hand against the edge of the table. He should have fought harder to stay. Should have forced someone to listen. He should have found answers before now.
Guilt had followed him throughout his life. Now he was here, on the same island. Sitting in front of the same truth he had run from for over two decades. Chasing ghosts with nothing but an old case file and a stubborn promise made over his father’s grave.
“I’d like to go back to the crime scene,” Declan said unexpectedly, drawing Asa’s attention from that promise. “I know it’s been years, but I think it will give us a feel for what happened that night, and perhaps it might jog a memory of something you might have forgotten.”
“You want me to walk back into the place where I found my father dead?” Asa’s voice was controlled, but that control cracked around the edges at the thought. “There’s nothing left in that barn but ghosts.”
Declan’s gaze softened. “We can go alone. I know that would be hard for you. Why don’t I have Eli meet us over there?”
“No,” Asa said a little too forcefully. Despite his emotional recoil, his sense of duty went to war against his trauma. “If thisleads us to the ones still hiding in the shadows, I’ll do it. Just don’t expect me to pretend like it won’t cost something.”
