Page 7 of Tangled Past
“Maya Callahan?” His voice was deep and steady but threaded with something harder beneath.
She blinked. “Yes. Can I—?”
“I’m Asa Dutton.” He waited as if expecting her to recognize his name. At first, it meant nothing, but the way he said it—like it should matter, like it carried weight—sent a shiver down her spine.
“I need to talk to you,” he added to her silence.
Confusion and fear warred for control. “About what?”
He hesitated just long enough for her heart to stumble.
“About the night my father was murdered. You were there.”
The rag slipped from her fingers and hit the counter with a soft thud.
Her mouth went dry. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” Yet darkness pressed in as if confirming his words.
His gaze didn’t waver, but his voice gentled. “There’s no mistake, Maya. Twenty-five years ago, you were found in the same barn where he died. A little girl with no name. That was you.”
Her knees weakened. She gripped the counter, searching for words. “That’s—no. I don’t—my parents—”
“Ruth and Samuel. They adopted you, I know.” He searched her face, his expression softening. “I’m not here to hurt you; I’m here because you’re the only one who saw what happened that night.”
Maya’s pulse pounded in her ears. She felt as if she were being sucked under water and drowning. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that her life hadn’t begun in blood and death. Even as denial formed, behind her eyes, visions appeared. The image of a rain-soaked world, the echo of a sob that might have been her own. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she managed, forcing the words past her cold lips.
Asa’s jaw tightened. For a moment she thought he might press harder, demand the truth she didn’t have. He nodded once, slowly, as if filing away the answer for later.
“Here’s my number if you want to talk. I’m staying at the Windswept cabin along the shore. It’s the last one at the end of Ocean View.” He handed her a business card with his number on it. “I know this is all strange for you. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here like this, but our pasts are connected.” His handgestured between himself and her. “I think what happened to my father is the cause of your memory loss. Maybe we can help each other find the answers we both need.”
His gaze held hers for a long moment, shaking her to her core. Then he turned and strode out the door, the bell jingling behind him.
Maya sagged against the counter, her trembling hands clutching its edge.
Customers went on sipping coffee and reading newspapers, oblivious to the storm that had just broken open inside her chest.
As she went to retrieve the rag, her eyes caught on the front window.
A figure stood across the street. Not Asa but someone else. Still. Watching.
The moment Maya’s gaze touched the shadowy figure, he turned away, melting into the fog.
A shiver ran through her, colder than the draft slipping through the door.
She told herself it was nothing. Just a passerby. Just her imagination.
But deep down, something whispered otherwise. Something long buried that told her the past she’d never wanted to remember in the first place had just found her.
