“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes and no. I’m sick and tired of memories teasing me and leaving me hanging.”
“I’m not sure what that means.” He frowned.
“You’re Detective Robinson?”
He opened his mouth and snapped it closed again as though he was going to say something different than what he did. “Yes, I’m Detective Robinson. What can I do for you?”
Saige looked around and felt nervous at being watched by the other cops who hung around reception. “Um, I wanted to talk to you.” She looked around again. “There’s a coffee shop a couple of blocks over, are you free to talk to me there?”
He paused and looked to be contemplating something before he nodded. “Let’s go.”
He ushered her out of the building while he sent a text message before he pocketed his cell. “I have to say that I never thought I’d see you again. You’ve changed, but I’d never forget your eyes.”
“I get that a lot.” Saige offered him a nervous smile. “I’m sorry to pull you away from whatever you were doing, but I’m not sure this can wait.”
They stayed silent for the rest of the walk to the coffee shop. Once they’d ordered and had their coffee before them, Saige sat back and watched the large detective, who watched her silently in turn. He was a handsome man and was over six feet tall and built like a linebacker.
Saige took a deep breath, and asked, “Did you take my statement, Detective?” She bet his brown eyes missed nothing as he ran a hand through his thick, black hair that tapered neatly to his collar. The slight grey around his temples gave him a distinguished look and she guessed he was in his late forties.
He sighed and leaned forward. “My name is Coulter, as your case is closed, I don’t see why you can’t use it.” He frowned and shook his head. “No, I didn’t take your statement. Why?”
Saige swallowed. “How much do you know about what happened to me?” She let her question settle and continued when he stayed silent, “I mean, do you know about my memory loss?”
He looked surprised.
“I remember that you slept a heck of a lot once you’d been found. It wasn’t surprising considering what had been done to you…how long you’d been in surgery. You’d been starved for the entire time you were held captive, so after the trauma, surgery, and everything else, you had no energy to stay awake. On the few occasions that I spoke with you, you didn’t seem to know what was going on...I’m guessing you’re asking questions because of the execution warrant.”
Saige nodded and wasn’t surprised that he was so astute. “If I didn’t seem to know what was going on then, how could I have given a comprehensive statement? I’ve read it and it doesn’t sound like it was given by someone who wasn’t ‘with it’.”
“I’ve often wondered about that, but I was there when you picked Quinten Peterson from the lineup of photographs. You were asked if you recognized anyone. You picked him.”
“Wait!” Saige sat forward. “You said that I was asked if I recognized anyone. Was I asked if I recognized my abductor? Please try and remember Detective...Coulter.”
He frowned and watched Saige, realizing that his answer mattered. “I don’t believe so. I believe your stepmother’s exact words were, ‘Look carefully, Saige, and only select the person you recognize.’ I do know that the day we had it all arranged and a video ready to film you doing the lineup, ended up being a bit of a disaster and we had to reschedule. Basically, just as we entered the room, you fell asleep and no one could wake you. Your doctor ordered us all out. But the day we got it done, you looked confused, but cohesive when looking through the images...What did I miss, Saige?” he asked softly.
She cleared her throat. “I’ve been spending time talking to Quinten’s brother, Alex.” She noticed the twitch in his jaw at the mention of Alex, but she continued, “He’s convinced that his brother is innocent. I can’t remember a lot, but yesterday, thanks to a photograph, brief memories teased my mind. What I remember is that Quinten had intricate tattoos on both arms that finished on the back of his hands with a vine twisting around both of his middle fingers.”
“He does.”
“The other memory was of the hands of my abductor with something silver in them just before I felt incredible pain...he didn’t have any tattoos. None that were visible on the back of his hands or his wrists...how can that be if Quinten is the one in prison? I’ve been told about all the evidence and DNA, but Alex said Quinten had badly cut himself, and bled everywhere.”
“That is one of the things that bothered me, and still does now and again.” He took a sip of his coffee and rubbed at his jaw. “Quinten had a nasty gash along his arm, by the time we found him with you, the blood had soaked through the material he’d used as a tourniquet.”
“The shirt from one of the murdered girls?”
He nodded. “Yes...To me that explained all the blood in the shack, he also told us what he remembered touching and everything came back positive to his prints. There wasn’t anything else with prints on though. However, the DA moved to press charges and that was that. The thing is, which I argued at the time, Quinten had stated he’d cut his arm breaking into the shack. The evidence from him breaking in was there for us to see exactly like he said. Once he’d been charged and the case was be
ing built against him, no one wanted to know. I even mentioned it on the stand, which is why I think some of the jury voted not guilty. I’d put the same doubt in their minds.”
They sat silently for a few minutes and drank their coffee. Saige really didn’t see how everyone would think him guilty. She knew her statement hadn’t helped him, but, “Why didn’t anyone question my relationship with Quinten? I couldn’t find any reference to it.”
Coulter stilled, and leaned closer still. “What relationship?”
She couldn’t hide her surprise at his question. “Alex hinted that Quinten and I had something going on. The memory of Quinten’s hands was of them on my body.” She blushed slightly but carried on, “When my stepmother asked if I knew anyone in those photographs, of course I’d have picked Quinten. Not only that, why wasn’t it revealed that both Alex and Quinten worked at my family home? They did the wood carving on the stairs and some of the molds around the light fittings. I might have lost my memory but back then I knew them, and apparently I knew Quinten really well.”
“Shit!” Coulter cursed and sat back in his chair, shock written all over his face. “Your father swore that you had no relationship with him and that you’d never met him. I even asked him that specific question. I never even got the vibe that he lied.”