Don't Look Back by Lynette Eason

wrists?”
    “Hm. Yes.” She turned from him and he watched her shoulders rise and fall.
    “It’s okay, Jamie, you don’t have to tell me.”
    “I just . . .” Her phone rang, cutting her off. She shot him an apologetic look and fished in her lab coat pocket. He could see the relief on her face as she said, “Let me get this, it’s Maya.”
    “Sure, I’m going to go study the tapes, then be back to take you to lunch.”
    A soft smile crossed her lips, erasing some of the stress evident on her forehead and at the corners of her eyes. “That’d be great.”
    He left her to her conversation.

    Jamie nibbled a nail as she watched Dakota leave, then turned her attention to Maya. “Hi, Maya.”
    “How are you doing, Jamie? Samantha called me and filled me in on things.”
    “Are you asking as my friend or my therapist?”
    Maya gave a small chuckle. “Maybe a little of both.”
    Jamie sucked in a deep breath, then plunged into the conversation she didn’t want to have. “I think he’s back.”
    Silence on the other end, then, “The man who assaulted you?”
    “Yes,” she whispered. “I swear it’s got to be him.”
    “What makes you so sure?”
    Jamie told Maya what had just happened in her office. “And he circled the number three on the calendar.”
    “What else is going on that day, Jamie?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “That day has special meaning. What is it?”
    Dumbfounded, Jamie paused, thinking. Wait a minute, the calendar had been flipped. It wasn’t June third circled, it was July third. She gasped. “July third, that’s Samantha’s birthday! I’d forgotten what month we were in. I was so focused on the fact that the number was circled that I . . .”
    “Do you think it’s possible that you did that? Could you have marked it to remind yourself it was Sam’s birthday?”
    “I . . . I . . .” Had she?
    “I’m not trying to discount anything you’re saying, Jamie, I’m just pointing out it’s possible you had Samantha’s birthday on your mind, you were distracted, talking on the phone or whatever, and reached over to doodle on your calendar and circled the day.”
    “I . . . don’t think . . . maybe . . . but the pen was . . .” She stopped her stuttering, closed her eyes, and pushed her brain to remember if she’d been the one to circle the number. After all, she’d lost track of time last night – something she never did. Maybe . . . “I suppose it’s possible.”
    Had she put all these people out, looking for something that may not exist? Was she letting her fears overwhelm her again? Causing her to see things that weren’t there, interpret things erroneously?
    “Just think about it, Jamie,” Maya was saying.
    Doubt surged. “All right.”
    She hung up, troubled by the conversation. If Maya was right and Jamie was imagining all of these things, then that meant she wasn’t doing nearly as well as she thought she was. The very idea depressed her. With a heavy heart, she went back to the bones and reached for the clavicle, and her breath caught in her throat as she pulled it for closer examination.
    Broken. And healed. Very nicely.
    Oh Lord, could this mean what I think it does?

7
    That question still haunted her when Dakota popped his head back in the lab an hour later. “Hey, are you ready to grab a bite to eat? Samantha can’t come because of the field trip, but Connor said he’d meet us at our usual spot.”
    Flannigan’s Fine Food. Ever since Jamie had gotten the job in the lab, the foursome ate at Flannigan’s two or three times a week. At least when cases and criminals allowed. Sometimes it was just a partial group – like today.
    “Okay. Just let me finish making a few notes and I’ll be ready.” Bending back over the file she’d spread out over a workspace across from the bones, she put her thoughts on the paper, then clicked the pen. And stopped.
    Staring at the simple ink pen, she clicked it again, then again, pulling the ballpoint up into the