Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

S he sat at the kitchen counter with the baby asleep in in the soft wrap against her chest, watching Kyle prepare their dinner. He moved around with efficiency; he had a graceful manner for a man his size. It was the first time she allowed herself to take a good look at him; he was handsome, with short, dark brown, cropped hair and a sprinkling of grey at his sideburns. His green eyes were friendly, his shoulders broad; he looked fit in an athletic sort of way. She focused on his strong hands as he easily cracked eggs into a bowl, whisking them briskly, then pouring them into the waiting pan. He quickly put bread slices into the toaster, depressed the lever to brown them and turned back to give his full attention to the contents of the frying pan, eggs now bubbling at the edges. He added a healthy amount of shredded cheese and then wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and looked up at her.

"I'm not exactly a gourmet cook, but eggs are my specialty. Would you like some tea? Coffee? Or maybe a glass of wine?"

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe a little bit of wine? I hope that the baby is asleep for the night. It should be okay."

"Sure. I have both red and white. Which would you prefer?"

"Are you going to have some?"

"Yeah, I think that I will."

"Whatever you're having would be great, then."

"Red it is," he responded, grabbing a bottle of Malbec from his wine refrigerator under the counter next to the sink and then taking the corkscrew out of a drawer and opening the bottle with a distinctive pop of the cork.

He poured each of them a glass and she grazed his against fingers with her own when he passed her the drink. They were warm and her reaction surprised her; she felt oddly attracted to him; he made her feel safe and she held on to that. That safety seemed important. She quickly took a sip of the ruby liquid, hoping to hide her sudden rush of feelings.

"That's delicious. Thank you," she said, all the while reminding herself that she was in no position to get involved with this man. She had too much to figure out, including where she was going and why she had that car accident. Not remembering was scary, and even more frightening was that she was now in this strange man's house. He offered to help, she had nowhere else to go and absolutely nothing felt familiar to her. She was so confused. Why did he feel safe? Why was she feeling so scared if he felt safe? Was it the lack of memory that gave her this overwhelming sense of panic, or was it something else? Wait. He was speaking to her. Oh no. What did he just say?

"A made a phone call earlier," he began, "to my partner. He's going to bring your bags from the car. Maybe there will be a clue or two as to your identity."

"He can do that?" she asked.

"Yes. He's going to the impound yard now. He should be here shortly."

"I hope I he finds my wallet. I must have had a driver's license, right?"

"I believe that you did. If not, we'll have to book you for violating our traffic laws," he said with a wide smile.

"You're making fun of me know, aren't you?"

"That's the hazard of coming from a large family. We're always teasing each other."

"It must be nice," she said, furrowing her forehead. A random thought crossed her mind. She had a brother. Yes, she did! Where, though?

"Are you feeling some pain?" he asked. "Would you like more Tylenol?"

She realized that he was reacting to her expression. "No, no. I just had the overwhelming feeling that I have a family out there. I just can't remember, exactly. It's like a fuzzy memory or something."

"Well, you did suffer a concussion. I think you'll have more recall as time goes by. It'll happen slowly. But I'm confident that it will all come back to you, don't worry about it. You just need some real rest."

"I hope you're right," she said.

She watched him turn the omelet out onto a wooden board and cut it evenly, placing each half on a separate plate. Then he reached back for the toast, put two slices on the board and slathered each with butter before giving her one and keeping one for himself.

"Would you like some strawberry jam?" he asked.

"No, thanks. I'm good with this."

He handed her a napkin, a fork, and a knife. "Dig in," he said as he cut into his own dinner. They ate in silence for a minute before he added, "You've got this mom thing down pat. I mean, your daughter seems happy and healthy, and you can eat dinner while you wear her in that contraption."

"It's funny," she said between bites. "I knew how this carrier worked without even thinking about it, but I can't remember my own name. Weird."

"Like I said. Don't dwell on it. Besides, I'm here to back you up until you get better and remember everything else."

"I will figure out a way to make this up to you," she said, immediately regretting the words and stammering to cover their double meaning. "I mean, I'll cook tomorrow. I'm sure I can remember how to make something simple, at the very least."

"Don't worry about that now," he said with a smile.

She hoped he didn't sense her unease.

He continued, "The best thing you can do for me is recover fully. I'll feel like I've done some good when you're all better, like I put something positive into the world."

"I'm sure that as a detective you've helped a lot of people. That type of work is a lifetime of service to others, isn't it?"

She watched as a painful shadow crossed his eyes and couldn't help but wonder what he wasn't telling her. Perhaps it was all the bad he'd seen on the streets of this city, or maybe he just didn't like his work at all. A pervasive sadness hovered around him, and for some reason she wished that she could ease the pain she sensed sat right beneath his confident exterior.

"I've seen my fair share of both the positives and negatives of my job. But for right now –"

Just then there was a loud knock on the front door.

"That must be Devon," he said as he made his way to the entrance of the condo.

If her brain wasn't so muddled, she might have believed that he was glad for the interruption. She turned on the stool to see a short, stocky black man, loaded down with luggage push a baby carriage across the doorway. She saw a woman's purse resting in the seat, a pink and white knitted blanket folded underneath. He stopped in the entryway, unloaded everything in a heap and stepped around her belongings with his right hand extended her way.

"I'm Devon Riley. And you might be…"

She just looked at him blankly.

"Ah, right. Still nothing, huh?" he asked her.

"No, not yet. Kyle assures me that I will remember, though. It will just take some time."

"Well, this might help," he said, stepping back over to the carriage and lifting out the purse. He brought the soft black leather hobo shaped bag over to her. "Open it. Perhaps you have a wallet inside with some identification."

"Come to think of it, Devon, why didn't the uniforms who responded to the accident bring that bag to the hospital?"

"I asked. They were called to a shooting a few blocks away right after it happened. Plus, you were on the scene. Maybe they thought that you'd take it? I guess they didn't know about your –"

Kyle interrupted him before Devon could complete his thought.

"Right, right. They must have thought that I'd do it."

"Anyway, it's here, now. Open it up and let's see what we find," Devon said with a smile.

She could feel her hand shake a bit as she unzipped the bag. Inside she found a pacifier, some tissues, and a small leather makeup pouch, all of which she rested on the counter next to her now forgotten plate of eggs. She reached in once more and retrieved a matching leather envelope, tied with an elegant strap. She looked up at both men. "Perhaps there's some sort of document in here," she said, undoing the fastening.

She shook more contents onto the counter. Two US passports and a white, unsealed envelope with ten one-hundred-dollar bills which spilled out with her movements. She opened the first passport. It belonged to the baby: Sarah Mabel Sawyer. Date of Birth: May 9, 2023. Place of Birth: New York, USA. Then her own: Mia Elizabeth Sawyer. Date of Birth: November 15, 1993. Place of Birth: New York, USA. She read the words over again. New York, USA. That seemed both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time and she felt a distinct chill creep up her spine.

"Well, what's your name?" Kyle asked, a wide smile on his face.

"Mia," she said. "My name's Mia, and my daughter is Sarah." She read the documents correctly, but she had the most awful sinking feeling that she couldn't express. What does it mean? she asked herself.

"It's nice to meet you, Mia," he said. "Welcome to my humble home."

"Humble my ass!" Devon said. "This is a nice part of town. Shit, I'm stuck out in Marlborough with my wife and kids living that suburban life. What I wouldn't give for a nice Back Bay pad like this one…"

"Stop complaining, Dev. You know you love it, coaching little league and all."

"Yeah, well, I suppose so." He turned his attention to the woman seated at the counter. "Any emergency contact information in there?"

She looked over the contents she'd spilled onto the counter. "Not that I see. This is all there is."

Well, don't worry. We should be able to track your family down now that we have your name and a location for you. I'll run it through the system tomorrow at the precinct and see what comes up."

"No need, Dev. I can do it from here. I still have – I mean, I have access on my laptop. I'll run it later."

"Okay, man. I guess I'll be going. I'm sure it's been a long day for you both." He stood up. "It was nice meeting you, Mia. Take care of that precious bundle you've got there," he said, nodding toward the baby still fast asleep in the cloth carrier.

"I will, Devon. Thank you again for all your help. It will be wonderful to wear some clothes of my own once more and it was very kind of you to bring all my belongings over here."

"I'll walk you out," Kyle said, throwing an arm around his partner's shoulder and leading him from the kitchen back to the entry hall.

She could hear them speaking in low tones at the front door, not able to make out what the two men were saying. She was confused about so many things. She reached into the purse once more and pulled out a red leather wallet and opened it. She found the boarding passes from a flight that had left London's Heathrow airport two days before as well as a few hundred dollars in twenties and tens tucked inside. The money felt unfamiliar, but she couldn't place why it looked so strange. There were only two things in the slots reserved for credit cards: a New York State driver's license and a gold American Express card. She pulled out the license and first stared at the address, then the photo embossed in plastic. 217 East 76 th Street. Something about those numbers was vaguely familiar, she just couldn't bring anything to the forefront of her mind. However, as she searched the small square picture and recognized her features, there was one thing she knew for certain: Mia Elizabeth Sawyer was not her name. Not that it mattered. She still had no idea of who she was, or why she was here. She picked up her wine glass and downed the rest of the contents, then stood up to bring their plates to the sink. Wait. 217 East 76 th Street… An image of a yellow taxi flashed before her eyes. A car. Snapping the baby into her car seat. What else?

Something made her feel uncomfortable just looking at that address. She couldn't place it, but it made her feel like her life was in danger. Why then, did this stranger make her feel like he'd protect her? Why did he make her feel safe? She shook her head. None of this made sense. She glanced back at her license on the counter. She closed her eyes, trying to envision the street listed on the official piece of plastic, but the foggy image faded away once more. She let out a breath. She had no further recall, but maybe if she cleared her mind, it might come back. There's something important that I must remember. What is it?

"Don't worry about the dishes," Kyle's voice behind her brought her out of her thoughts. "Go through your stuff, find something to sleep in. I'll set up the Pack and Play for Sarah in the bedroom -- Sibby left hers for us to use, and then we'll all turn in. Tomorrow we can work on finding your family. I'm sure they're worried sick about you both."

She nodded, not knowing what else to say. She was glad that Kyle thought that there were people somewhere missing her, but something deep down told her differently. She had the oddest sensation that she was running away from everything she ever knew. A shiver went up her spine. That wasn't possible, was it?

Then an even more chilling thought crossed her mind. She went back over to her purse and sorted through the contents on the counter. A package of tissues from the airplane, the British Airways logo printed across the plastic front and a few loose, generic, red, and white mints wrapped in clear cellophane spilled out. Conspicuous in its absence was her phone. Everyone carried a cellphone these days. She should have had one, she was sure of it, and it would have been loaded up with her contacts. Whoever leaves home without their phone? she thought. Maybe someone who didn't want to be found…