Tom nodded, maneuvering the truck over several potholes. “How?”
Drugs. They killed. “When we were sixteen, she was sent up here to Northridge, which is a drug rehabilitation center that takes indigent kids as well as people who can pay. After a year, she got out and was put in the foster system here. She got back into drugs and overdosed.” Mona had attended the same drug rehab center Billy was now in because it was supposed to be the best in the Northwest. Hopefully Billy would succeed and beat the drugs.
Tom stopped the truck when a stone wall ended the road. “Is Mona why you moved to Snowville?”
Josie shrugged. “Maybe part of it.” Everyone should have flowers put on their grave on the anniversary of their death. “Do you think our childhoods create our adulthoods?”
“Absolutely. One hundred percent… whoever we were as kids shapes us as adults.” Tom’s face held a new seriousness.
Josie nodded. She was alone as a kid, and maybe that was the only way she knew to live. Her shoulders sagged at the thought. She opened the door and slid to the ground. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Quietly shutting the door, she stepped over a mud puddle and onto the grass.
Winding around several headstones, she arrived at Mona’s. Rain pattered down, matting her hair to her neck. “Hi, Mona.” Gently, Josie leaned down and placed the flowers next to the weathered headstone. “I brought red roses this time. Something to brighten the day.”
Memories of the tall, curvy brunette washed through Josie’s mind. She and Mona had lived together in a small apartment owned by a lady named Judy who worked two jobs. Judy was nice but was rarely around. Josie had missed Arthur and Claire, and Mona had tried to cheer her up. But Mona had already been hooked on crack at that time, and after three months had been sent to Northridge. Even so, during their brief time together, they’d bonded as wanna-be sisters. “I miss you.”
The wind picked up, scattering pine needles across the roses. Josie wiped them away. “I have another friend who’s having problem with drugs. Don’t worry, I’ll help him.” Like she should’ve helped Mona. Somehow. She cleared her throat. “I’m really scared, Mona.” Saying the words made the reality all the more stark. While she couldn’t admit the truth to all the tough men wanting to protect her, here she was safe. “I’m not sure who to trust. Or who’s after me. Or Shane. It’s so confusing—so terrifying.”
The small tombstone stared back at her silently.
Josie shivered in the rain. Making Tom wait in the truck probably wasn’t nice. Plus, she needed to figure her life out. “I’m not sure where you are, or if you can hear me. But if so, take note, will you? I could use all the help I can get. Especially with which man to rely on. Tom is safe and trusts me, but I’m putting him in danger. Shane, well…”
She couldn’t find the right words. “You know Shane, if you’re watching me. And… say hi to Claire for me. I mean, if heaven works like that. I’ll be back.” Turning in the damp grass, she hustled through the rain.
Reaching the truck, she climbed into warmth and safety where Tom’s clean scent of Irish soap calmed her. She sent him a grin. “I get to choose the movie tonight.”
*
Shane settled into the sleeping bag overarched by the thick awning of pine branches. The moon filtered through a smattering of clouds. Wildlife rustled around him. Nothing in the forest was as dangerous as him. He knew the truth in his bones, even if his brain hadn’t kicked in yet.
Since awakening, he’d wanted his memories back. Now, he wasn’t sure. The new ones, of pretty Josie and her strong spirit… those were good and right. But what if his memories proved he’d used her? What if the old him didn’t love her? Because the new Shane did. This pounding in his chest had to mean something real—even if it was new.
He’d tamped down on the extra senses for the moment. Hearing horns miles away was just annoying. He glanced at Marsh’s quiet house. Josie had gone to bed a half hour before. Alone. Safe for the time being. Though he should probably get her out of town. If he thought they’d be safe, he’d move forward and start over with her. But whoever was after him would keep coming. The only way to fight back was to remember them, but doing so could lead to the loss of Josie. He wanted a slice of time with her before all hell broke loose. He needed to show her the good side of himself—even if it was new and temporary. Just the thought of her tightened his groin. Made his heart thump faster.
There hadn’t been time to sleep since he’d been injured, and despite his worries, his eyes drifted shut, his hand on the butt of his gun.
His dreams floated in and out until one came into focus.
His arm hurt. He frowned at the black cast that covered his left wrist. His small, childlike wrist. He couldn’t be more than nine years old. Maybe eight.