Chapter 20
Liam
Screams can be heardfrom my bedroom, and wake me out of a dead sleep. I look around my room, not exactly awake yet, and rush into hers. Harper is still asleep, but thrashing around in the bed, screaming. I want to hold and console her, but right now she isn’t my girlfriend. In her mind, she’s twenty-two, and doesn’t really know me.
“Stop. Please don’t hurt me!”
Instead of shaking her awake, I call out her name, trying to get her attention that way, but it doesn’t work. “Harper. Wake up. It’s just a dream.”
Since we came to my house, I’m surprised none of my neighbors have called the cops at night. I know if I heard anything like this coming from somewhere that’s the first thing I’d do.
As she continues her nightmare, I sit on the bed next to her, and take one of her hands in mine. It helps ease her a bit, and she stops thrashing. How the hell is she ever going to get over this? I can’t imagine what’s all going through her head. Waking up missing nine years of memories, finding out your parents were murdered, and not having any recollection of it. At the bare minimum, it’s fucking with her head. Maybe she should go see and talk to someone. It might help her get to the bottom of these nightmares.
I continue to hold her hand, and lay down next to her. The screaming has stopped, and my mind begins to wander. Should I look into the murder of her parents’ myself? What if the police overlooked something that a fresh pair of eyes could catch? It happens in cold cases all the time, why not this one? He’s got to be the culprit, but without an ID, how the hell will we ever find him? He didn’t leave anything behind at the break-in, nothing at the fire, and when he showed up twice at the hospital, we couldn’t even get a picture of his face. Whoever it is, this can’t be the first time he’s committed a crime, which only means there are more cases out there connected to him. Possibly cold cases, years without being solved.
I grab my phone and text Scott.
Me: Is there any way we could look at the case files on her parents’? Maybe we can find something they missed.
I press send even though it’s three in the morning. He might be asleep, but he’ll respond when he wakes up. Something has to be done to push this investigation forward, and right now it’s at a standstill. He’s already shown he’s ballsy, coming to the hospital twice, so what is going to stop him from coming to my house? Although, he would have to find out where Harper is first, and it’s not like we are forwarding her mail here or anything. So she’s safe for the time being.
Around five, she wakes herself up screaming, and snuggles up to me.
“When did you come in here?”
“A couple hours ago. You were screaming and I thought you needed some company. Just wanted to keep an eye on you.” I smile.
“Did I keep you up all night?” She sits up, looking at me.
“Only since midnight. I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about you.”
She doesn’t seem repulsed by my touch like at the hospital, and all I want to do right now is have her snuggled up in my chest like before. What if I never get that again and she never ends up getting the rest of her memories back? This Harper isn’t the same woman I fell in love with, but I still love her. The hopefulness has to shine bright and giving up isn’t an option.
I think it’s been an adjustment being here, even though she’s safer, it’s a strange place.
“Is it bad that I want to go back to California? Everything just seems so foreign here,” Harper says.
She wants to go back? Does that mean she’s leaving me? My heart sinks, because if she goes back, I can’t. My whole life is here including my brother’s and job. “I think it might be best to wait. Where would you stay?”
“My parent’s house. I do remember in their will, the last time they went over it with me, the house was coming to me. So, it should still be in my name.”
She makes her way into the living room and grabs my laptop off the coffee table.
“How do you know you didn’t sell it?” I ask.
“I would never do that. That’s my childhood. All my memories are in that house.”
“But they were also killed there. Not sure you would want to hold onto those memories,” I say. Yes, an asshole move, but it needed to be said. It’s not like they passed of old age, no, they were brutally murdered.
She doesn’t respond, just opens up the laptop and starts typing.
“Anything I can help with?” I ask, sitting down next to her.
It looks like she is looking at houses. Why would she be doing that? I look at the top and she is looking at the sales on a particular property in California. “Is this your parents’ house?”
“Yes, housing sales are public record. So, if I did sell it, then it would be on here,” she continues to scroll down the page. “There isn't any record of sale on the property since 1975 which is when my parents got it.”
For a minute, I feel like a selfish ass, because if she did sell it, then my chances of her staying around are better. Now, I imagine she will be on the first plane back. I can’t stop her from leaving, and as much as I love her, she’s not in love with me. So, all I can do is let her go and hope maybe someday she will regain her memory and come back to me.