slammed shut some secret door inside.
“You okay? What are you doing? You talking to someone?” Sam reached out and grasped her elbow, a gentle touch filled with tender concern.
“Yes, no—sorry, just some weirdness, that’s all.” Nervous flutters began inside her chest. He was so good looking, and those solid, tanned arms of his—a girl could get lost in them. His closeness became too much. She needed to look away, so she stalled and tucked her unruly damp hair behind her ears to shake off Sam’s amazing intensity, a gaze like the depths of the ocean weaving its way into her heart.
“What?” Sam moved closer.
“This is going to sound nuts, but I got scared. I leaned over the balcony and suddenly I was in all those people’s heads, picking up what they were feeling.” She shut her eyes and refused to look at him. “See? I told you. It even sounds crazy to me. Maybe I’m going crazy,” she rambled, and he stopped her by gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes popped open. His touch stirred some lovely odd feelings inside her. The way he looked at her made her feel as if what she had said wasn’t so crazy—not to him.
“Jesse’s here,” he said.
She must have been staring like a fool, because he coughed to break the spell and held out his large hand. When she placed hers into his, it was like a soft wing stroking her skin, tipping her belly with a faint thrill while she allowed him to lead her inside.
A large canvas bag lay heaped on the scratchy beige sofa, a crumpled airline tag dangling from the strap. The kind dark-skinned detective was wearing the same rumpled blue suit, but with a clean light blue shirt and striped tie. He eyed her now with a look that had Marcie taking a step back. Something’s happened. He doesn’t trust me.
“Jesse retrieved my bag from the airport,” Sam explained.
Jesse shrugged his bulky shoulders and loosened his sloppy blue tie, but his hard eyes remained glued on her. “It was the least I could do for an old friend. Funny thing though, Marcie: I couldn’t find yours.”
Her stomach twisted. “I don’t understand?”
“Come on, Jesse. It’s more than possible the airline lost the luggage,” Sam said.
“Sure it is. They do it all the time. Why, just last year they sent mine and the missus’ to Florence. Always wanted to go there. At least my bags got to go.” He chuckled at his dry attempt at humor, except Marcie couldn’t shake off the implied distrust. He looked at her with the same hardness he had used when speaking of Elise the night before, and that worried her.
“Don’t forget the backpack, Jesse. Maybe it was her only piece of luggage.”
“Okay, maybe. But then, what woman carries only an itty-bitty backpack with all her things for a trip? None I’ve met. But hey, there’s always a first.”
Hearing Jesse’s assumption raised questions she hadn’t thought of. She paused, confused, looking at her pale hands and her long, slender fingers. She had really tried to clear the muddled darkness clouding her past, except it made her anxious. At the same time, though, her loss of memory filled her with an unexpected blissful peace.
“So what do you suppose was so valuable in that backpack you were carrying?”
Sam cocked his head and frowned. He took a step toward Jesse. “Now, what are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything. Just asked a question, is all.”
Sam looked Marcie square in the eye and then exchanged another scrutinizing glance with Jesse, as if trying to piece together a puzzle.
Okay, now would be a good time for her memory to return. She pressed her fingers to her head and struggled to pull the backpack in question out of thin air. Just as quickly, she felt an urgent need to backpedal. “I don’t remember having a backpack, even though I was told I had one.” She stumbled for words and some tangible explanation, but even she had to admit something was off. She didn’t want to remember,
“You okay? What are you doing? You talking to someone?” Sam reached out and grasped her elbow, a gentle touch filled with tender concern.
“Yes, no—sorry, just some weirdness, that’s all.” Nervous flutters began inside her chest. He was so good looking, and those solid, tanned arms of his—a girl could get lost in them. His closeness became too much. She needed to look away, so she stalled and tucked her unruly damp hair behind her ears to shake off Sam’s amazing intensity, a gaze like the depths of the ocean weaving its way into her heart.
“What?” Sam moved closer.
“This is going to sound nuts, but I got scared. I leaned over the balcony and suddenly I was in all those people’s heads, picking up what they were feeling.” She shut her eyes and refused to look at him. “See? I told you. It even sounds crazy to me. Maybe I’m going crazy,” she rambled, and he stopped her by gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes popped open. His touch stirred some lovely odd feelings inside her. The way he looked at her made her feel as if what she had said wasn’t so crazy—not to him.
“Jesse’s here,” he said.
She must have been staring like a fool, because he coughed to break the spell and held out his large hand. When she placed hers into his, it was like a soft wing stroking her skin, tipping her belly with a faint thrill while she allowed him to lead her inside.
A large canvas bag lay heaped on the scratchy beige sofa, a crumpled airline tag dangling from the strap. The kind dark-skinned detective was wearing the same rumpled blue suit, but with a clean light blue shirt and striped tie. He eyed her now with a look that had Marcie taking a step back. Something’s happened. He doesn’t trust me.
“Jesse retrieved my bag from the airport,” Sam explained.
Jesse shrugged his bulky shoulders and loosened his sloppy blue tie, but his hard eyes remained glued on her. “It was the least I could do for an old friend. Funny thing though, Marcie: I couldn’t find yours.”
Her stomach twisted. “I don’t understand?”
“Come on, Jesse. It’s more than possible the airline lost the luggage,” Sam said.
“Sure it is. They do it all the time. Why, just last year they sent mine and the missus’ to Florence. Always wanted to go there. At least my bags got to go.” He chuckled at his dry attempt at humor, except Marcie couldn’t shake off the implied distrust. He looked at her with the same hardness he had used when speaking of Elise the night before, and that worried her.
“Don’t forget the backpack, Jesse. Maybe it was her only piece of luggage.”
“Okay, maybe. But then, what woman carries only an itty-bitty backpack with all her things for a trip? None I’ve met. But hey, there’s always a first.”
Hearing Jesse’s assumption raised questions she hadn’t thought of. She paused, confused, looking at her pale hands and her long, slender fingers. She had really tried to clear the muddled darkness clouding her past, except it made her anxious. At the same time, though, her loss of memory filled her with an unexpected blissful peace.
“So what do you suppose was so valuable in that backpack you were carrying?”
Sam cocked his head and frowned. He took a step toward Jesse. “Now, what are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything. Just asked a question, is all.”
Sam looked Marcie square in the eye and then exchanged another scrutinizing glance with Jesse, as if trying to piece together a puzzle.
Okay, now would be a good time for her memory to return. She pressed her fingers to her head and struggled to pull the backpack in question out of thin air. Just as quickly, she felt an urgent need to backpedal. “I don’t remember having a backpack, even though I was told I had one.” She stumbled for words and some tangible explanation, but even she had to admit something was off. She didn’t want to remember,
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