Chapter 18
Matt stared out the window as his brother pulled onto St. Charles Avenue, which ran through the heart of the Garden District. The smell of the shrimp po’boys and dirty rice tucked snugly in a white paper sack in the back seat was intoxicating and made his mouth water. It was the first time since being out of the hospital that he really felt hungry.
The scenery was picturesque as they traversed St. Charles, famous for its streetcar line and leafy canopy of ancient live oaks. The grand mansions that lined the street were like an architectural student’s wet dream. Tourists traveled from far away just to admire the largest collection of architectural styles in the country, including Greek Revival, Colonial Revival, Victorian, Italianate, and center hall cottages. A majority of the mansions had grand embellishments, such as ornate wrought iron fences lushly overgrown with Southern flora. As his brother turned off St. Charles Avenue onto Valmont Street and Matt saw his house, he couldn’t help thinking that it kept up appearances. Nobody driving by would guess that anything with his family was amiss. His large Victorian mansion looked as stunning and grand as the other houses on his street. Chris pulled around the side driveway, unlocked the gate, and then parked next to Erin’s car.
“Did the police say when I could pick up my truck?” Matt grabbed their bag of takeout food from the backseat and hopped out.
“That detective said they were almost done processing the truck. I’ll check on it tomorrow morning.” Chris followed Matt inside, where they sat at the kitchen table and dug into their sandwiches.
“I want to go in to the office with you tomorrow,” Matt mumbled, his mouth full of food.
Chris put down his half-eaten sandwich. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
“I’m tired of hanging around the house and doing nothing. Besides, the FBI wants to come by and take a look at our operation. They seem to think that one of our clients pulled this stunt.”
“What do you think?” Chris asked.
“I dunno. I can’t think of anyone who would do this to us.”
“Me either. They’ve already been through all this with me. But maybe they’ll see something we haven’t thought of.”
Matt tried to gather his disorganized thoughts. “Chris, do you think I had something to do with this?”
Chris stared at him. “Hell, no! Why would you even ask that?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been wondering what happened in these last two months that I can’t remember. Maybe the homeless guy plays a part in all this. Why would his image be the first I remember? Maybe something was going on with Erin that I didn’t know about. I’m going out of my mind trying to remember something. Anything!” Matt took his napkin and wiped his face before crumpling the paper into a ball with his fist.
“I know you’re frustrated, but you just need to calm down. Relax. Your memory will come back in time.”
“But we don’t have a lot of time,” Matt said. “Erin’s dead, I feel sure of it. I don’t even want to think about what may have happened to the kids.”
Chris patted his brother on the shoulder. “We’ll find them, buddy. One step at a time. We’ll go into the office tomorrow, cooperate with the feebs, and then see what we can find out about this homeless guy.”
“Do me a favor,” Matt said. “Don’t mention the homeless guy to Agent Krapek. She already has it out for me. I don’t know for sure what that memory means yet, and I’m not ready to share that information with her.”
“You got it, buddy.” Chris finished his sandwich in two bites. “Should we jet?”
“I’m going to stay here tonight. Maybe I’ll remember more being in my own house.”
“Is this about Melinda? I know staying at our place isn’t exactly relaxing. She’s been a little stressed over the whole situation.”
Matt looked around the kitchen for the trash can. “No. I appreciate all your help, but I need to start finding my way back. I need to find out what happened to me and my family. The sooner I get my memory back, the better. The only way to do that is to get back home and back into my routine. At least that is what Dr. Mendoza, the great neurologist, says.”
“I agree. I’ll swing by in the morning and pick you up. We’ll call the station and see if we can pick up your truck on the way in.”
Matt gave his brother a quick hug. “Thanks for everything, brother. I’ll see ya in the morning.”
After Chris left, Matt wandered around the house picking up knickknacks and photos. “Tell me something,” he said aloud. He looked at a photo of Mary Katherine in her soccer uniform, standing with her foot on the ball and smiling at the camera.
“I’m going to find you, Mary Kate. You and Patrick. I promise.”
He put the frame back on the fireplace mantel and walked outside to the back patio. The pool light was on, the water glistening and inviting. Matt chucked his flip-flops off and dipped his foot in the water. It was nice and cool. He stripped off his clothes, diving headfirst into the refreshing water. He started with slow, even strokes, making his way back and forth across the pool. With each lap, his speed increased until he was tired and out of breath. He threw his arms onto the tiled edge of the pool and rested his aching head on the back of his hand, his heart beating furiously against his chest. After a few minutes, he looked at the back of the house. For a brief second, he thought he saw the curtains flutter on the second story. His bedroom. Matt rubbed his eyes, thinking he was seeing things. He quickly got out of the pool and ran through the back door, his wet feet skidding as soon as they hit the wood floors. He took the stairs two at a time and ran down the long hallway to the master bedroom. Bursting through the door, he flipped on the bedroom light, his eyes glancing around the empty room. The bed was made, with a half-empty glass of water sitting on the nightstand. Matt walked cautiously into the adjoining master bathroom, flipping on lights as he went through. The bathroom was immaculate and also empty. No one lurked in the linen closet or behind any doors. Matt made his way through all the rooms upstairs, checking under beds and in the closets. Satisfied that no one else was in the house, he returned to his bedroom and sat on the bed staring at the view of the pool.
He wondered if paranoia was a side effect of his current condition and guessed that it probably was. He thought back to his recovered memory of the homeless man named Moses. The dirty trench coat, mud-caked shoes, and torn jeans. There was something else that was peculiar about the man. Matt closed his eyes, struggling to remember. It was his teeth. Moses had perfect white teeth. Matt remembered watching Moses leave and then turning his attention to the upstairs window and seeing his wife watching through the blinds. Then the memories of the previous Wednesday night came flooding back in a rush that made his head hurt even more.
Getting ready for soccer practice. Giving the homeless man twenty dollars. Coaching the kids on the field. Stopping to get gas on the way home. Talking with Chris and telling him they needed baking potatoes for the family dinner. Getting a flat tire on the way to Antoine’s to drop off Erin’s painting. Stopping at the empty parking lot near the Riverwalk to inspect the damaged tire. A voice coming from behind while he was crouching down to fix it. A tire iron coming down hard and fast toward his head.
Whose face was it that he saw that night? Who was holding the tire iron? Matt pressed his hands against his temples and struggled to remember. It was just out of his grasp. Somebody he knew hit him. It was like his mind was trying to protect him from a painful memory. Matt knew that it was someone close to him, he was sure of that. But who?