The Edge

“I gave him a little test at the spot where he claimed to have seen Jenny’s body.” He filled them in on what he had done to discover the man’s inability to look downward.

“Are you sure?” asked Harper.

“Test him yourself,” suggested Devine. “And the guy has a hard time walking. No, he doesn’t really walk, he shuffles. So he was out in a monsoon shuffling miles, including through the mud, to the edge of that bluff?”

“If what you’re suggesting is true, it opens up a can of worms,” said Harper.

“It actually changes everything,” replied Devine.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Harper.

“If he didn’t look down and see her, how was she actually found? Did she really fall on the rocks after being shot, or was she killed elsewhere and moved there later?”

“Hold on, hold on,” protested Fuss. “You’re getting way over your skis the way I see it.”

“I don’t think so. It’s a fact that when Earl called 911 there was a body at the spot mentioned?”

“Yes,” said Harper. “I told you that. The night dispatcher called me and I called Wendy. We went out there straightaway.”

“And Earl was there?”

“Sure was, right over at the edge. He pointed to where she was.”

“Did he look down when he pointed?”

“I don’t remember,” snapped Harper. “I had other things to think about.”

“But if he didn’t find her, what was he really doing there?” asked Devine.

“You’re the one saying that, not us.”

“Then test him.”

“We do that, it’s as good as saying we don’t believe him.”

Devine retorted, “I thought our job was to find the facts, not worry about hurt feelings.”

“We don’t need you to tell us how to do our job,” interjected Fuss heatedly. “In fact, you made our job harder by preventing us from searching Jenny’s room and car right away.”

“I had nothing to do with that.”

“It was still your people,” pointed out Fuss.

“This is getting us nowhere,” said Devine. “Are you going to speak to Earl?”

Harper hitched up his pants. “I’ll let you know. In the meantime, what can you tell us about those three people you killed? Your boys turn up anything?”

“Not that they’ve shared with me.”

“Well, as soon as you do hear anything, be sure to let us know.”

“I’d appreciate the same,” replied Devine.

They walked off without acknowledging this request.

As soon as they left, Alex came riding up on her bicycle, stopping in front of him.

“Can we talk?” she said.

“Sure. About what?”

“About... me. And Jenny.”

Chapter 35

She curled and uncurled her fingers around the coffee cup at Maine Brew.

Devine watched those long, lively fingers and judged them to be as artistic in design and function as the mind of the woman who owned them.

“What about you and your sister?” said Devine in a gently prompting manner.

Alex looked up at him, considerable pain in her expression. She fiddled with the colorful scarf tied around her neck. “I... I heard about what happened to you. That you almost died last night. That was why you came to my studio, wasn’t it?”

“Who told you that?”

“Wendy Fuss. She said that you killed three men who had kidnapped you.”

He nodded slowly. “Yes. But we didn’t come here to talk about that, did we?” He took a sip of coffee and glanced out the window as a chilly rain started to fall. When she didn’t say anything he looked back at her. “I heard something about you.”

“What?” she said quickly.

“That you were attacked when you were in high school. And that the person who attacked you got away.”

“I... I...” She looked so distressed that he put his hand out and gripped hers firmly.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, then don’t. It’s up to you. No worries. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to do.”

He let go of her hand, sat back, and waited.

She took a sip of coffee and then set the cup down and plunged in. “The doctors said that in addition to having physical injuries, I... I suffered a traumatic shock. And that shock caused something called localized or situation-specific dissociative amnesia. Back then I had no idea what that meant, but I’ve come to learn that it means I can’t remember certain specific memories. In my case I can remember what I was doing before it happened, but nothing after that.”

“So you don’t remember any details of the assault?”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have even known that it happened at all except I woke up in a hospital with a skull fracture and... the police were there.” She touched her scalp in the middle of her head. “They had to shave my head right there to fix it. They also told me I had been—”

“Yes, I know,” said Devine quickly. “Will you ever get the memories back?”

“They don’t know. Apparently, most of the time they do come back, at least to some degree. But... it hasn’t happened with me, and it’s been over fifteen years now.”

“Is there anything they can do to help you get them back?”