Chapter 56

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

ASHLEY

I can't believe he's driven off and left me here with his mom, without even a proper introduction. What the hell must she be thinking? She must know who I am. What I did!

No, I can believe it. I just … I don't even know.

I keep my smile fixed to my face, and turn to the woman standing behind me.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't expect Zain to drive away. We were supposed to go to my mom's, not come here."

His mom shifts her gaze from the disappearing car to me. There's a small frown wrinkling her brow, and it deepens when she looks at me.

"What happened to you?" She touches my forehead gently.

"What? Oh!" My hand lifts to cover the bruise on my temple. "I … went for a run this morning, in the forest behind the house, and … I tripped and fell."

"You tripped and fell?"

I nod. "Luckily, Zain wasn't far behind me." Why am I protecting him? Tell her you were trying to escape from him! "He caught up just in time to see me tumble down the hill, and came down after me."

She stares at me in silence for a minute, then sighs. "Come inside, and let's take a closer look."

She turns toward the house. I touch her arm.

"I'm sorry." I'm not talking about Zain leaving me here.

She hesitates, then nods. "I can't say I'm happy about this, or with what he says is happening between you, but I trust my son. I just don't understand it."

What am I supposed to say to that?

Apparently my brain has an idea, and the words that spill from my mouth surprise me.

"He managed to get hold of the footage from my interview and his interrogation."

"He told me." She leads me into the house.

"It showed things that … don't match my memories."

She looks at me from over her shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"When I was first taken to the station, there was a short time when I was with the detectives … before my dad arrived. I don't remember that at all."

"Through here."

I follow her along the hallway and through the door.

The room beyond is a large kitchen. An oak table takes center place, with six chairs around it. Other than the two of us, the room is empty.

"Sit down, Ashley." She crosses the floor and opens a cupboard door.

When she returns to where I'm sitting, she's holding a packet of antiseptic wipes. "It looks like you've tried to clean this. "

"Zain did, but we only had water at the house."

She tips my head up with two fingers, and opens the wipes. "You weren't at his house. I dropped by this morning." Although it's a statement, there's a questioning note to her voice.

"We were at the …" I lick my lips. "The old house. He wanted to see if being there would bring any repressed memories out."

"I see." She dabs at the graze on my head. "And did it?"

My laugh is short. "You could say that."

"You remembered something?"

"Like I said, the recording of my interview had things on there that I have no recollection of. I don't understand why I don't remember."

"Trauma can do strange things to the mind."

My head stings where she's dabbing with the wipe, but I hold still.

"Have you ever heard the term false memories?"

"False memories?" I repeat slowly. "No, I don't think so."

"It's when an experience is remembered as factual but is completely different from what actually happened. It can be little things like getting the color of a car wrong, or bigger … where you remember something that didn't ever happen."

"How can that be possible?"

"All sorts of things can cause it. Sigmund Freud was one of the pioneers of research into false memories. There have been many studies since, of course."

"Can you give me an example?" Cold fingers of dread run up my spine .

"Oh … Let me think … If an eyewitness is questioned immediately after an incident, the memory can be altered by the use of leading questions. So, say you witnessed a car crash, you could be asked if you saw a man crossing the road. That would put it in your post-shocked mind that a man was crossing the road."

"Leading questions?" My mouth is dry. I know where she's directing this discussion, and I'm on edge waiting for her to mention it.

"I remember there was a case a few years ago, where a man sued two psychiatrists. He accused them of planting memories of incestual abuse into his daughter. The jury believed him. In another case, a woman was charged with second-degree murder, and child abuse after leaving her son in a hot car, where he died. The jury determined her not guilty because, after investigation, it seemed that she had the false memory of dropping off her son at the daycare, which was her daily habit."

She turns away. "Would you like something to drink?"

Her abrupt change of subject surprises me. "I … I'd love a tea, if you have it."

"I do. I find it a refreshing change to coffee." She fills a pot with water, and places it on the stove. "I don't like the way it tastes when you heat the water in the microwave, so I hope you don't mind waiting."

"No … no, it's fine."

"I have to say that I was surprised when Zain said he was having dinner with you so soon after his release."

"I wasn't expecting it either. "

"You left town, didn't you? Quite a few years ago, if I recall correctly."

"When I was eighteen."

"Why did you come home?"

"I …" I have to be careful how I answer her. While I don't think Zain will really have my mom arrested, I'm sure he has a list of other things he can do to ruin my life. "I saw the news about Zain being released. It shocked me."

"His lawyer tried to find you, you know. I think he wanted to ask you about what you said in court."

"Zain told me." He didn't .

"I was angry with you for a long time. Angry that you believed my son would be capable of doing something like that to his best friend. But I also know how traumatizing walking in and seeing … well, you were barely more than a child."

"I still have nightmares about that night." I don't know what makes me confess that to her.

"I'm not surprised by that at all."

She busies herself making tea for us both, then places both cups on the table, along with a pitcher of milk. "Do you take sweetener?"

"Yes, please."

"What memories came back to you while you were at the house?" She drops the question in such a casual tone that it takes a second for my brain to catch up with what she's asking.

I give myself a second to prepare my reply by taking a sip of tea. It's hot, but it distracts me from the way my mind is racing.

Zain isn't here. She doesn't know about the contract I've signed. She doesn't know I'm married to her son. I could make my excuses and leave, if I wanted to.

Instead, I set down the cup, and meet her gaze.

"I remember seeing Zain standing over Jason and Louisa. I remember him calling my name." I give a small shake of my head. "I remember the knife was on the floor near the door, and not in his hand."