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“Good. We’re busy.”
“Hey, son,” Russ McBride said when he entered the kitchen.
“Hey, Dad.”
Creed smiled when his mother set a steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of him.
“Thanks, Mom.” He took a sip and let out a satisfied sigh. “That hits the spot. It’s freezing out there.”
“More snow on the way too,” his dad remarked as he made himself a cup of coffee.
“Just what I need,” Creed replied with a chuckle. “I’ll never get this case resolved at this rate.”
“What case is that?” Muriel asked with concern.
Creed explained about the Fields case and how difficult it was to track stolen livestock in the winter.
“I know how tough it is for you during this time of year,” his mother sympathized.
“If they’d just leave tracks in the snow, it would be easy to follow,” Creed grumbled. “But once it snows again, it’s almost impossible to track them down. That’s my dilemma with the Fields case. I can see their tracks, but they’re buried under the snow.”
His mother studied him intently.
“What’s on your mind?” she asked gently, placing a comforting hand on his arm.
Creed sighed and shook his head. She always seemed to know when something was troubling him.
“I think my memory is trying to come back,” he admitted.
“Why? What happened?”
“I had a dream last night,” he began, his voice low and distant as he recounted the details. “I’m in the woods, carrying my weapon at my side. But then I stop and raise the gun up because I heard something to my left.”
“Are you alone?” his dad asked, joining in on the conversation.
“Yes, or at least I think I am. I don’t see anyone else, but I don’t recognize the place. It’s familiar in a strange way.”
“Perhaps your memory is trying to resurface. I can’t say if that’s a good thing,” his father commented.
“I understand, Dad, but I want to know what took place that night. I need closure and justice for Mac.”
“I know you do, son, but don’t push yourself too hard. If your memory returns naturally, let it be. Forcing it could only make things worse.”
“Yes, that’s what the therapist advised. I haven’t actively tried to recall that night. Hopefully, it will come back to me in due time. That dream must hold some significance, but I can’t figure it out.”
“Don’t let it consume you, son. Focus on your cases for now. Your memory may resurface when you least expect it.”
“I hope so, Dad.”
“Are you certain you want to remember?” his mother interjected.
“I have to know, Mom. I was the only one left standing, and I owe it to them to uncover the truth.”
“But I’m sure it’s going to be painful for you.” His mother touched his arm.
“I’m aware of that, Mom, but it’s tearing me apart not knowing. For three years, I’ve had no memories of that night, and now they’re resurfacing. At least I think they are.” He looked at her. “I want to know. If it’s painful then I’ll deal with it.”
“You’ve been through so much in the past five years, Creed.”
