Page 9 of Saving Meadow

“Miss Holiday?”

Holy sweet mother of God it was him. And if I thought he was good looking in the coffee house, I’d been wrong. He was way better than good looking. And tall. Even though I’d just seen him last week at Sam’s, I’d been sitting, and I’d forgotten how much taller he was than me.

“Miss?” he asked again.

“Yes. That’s me.”

“I’m SA Clark and this is SA Gonzalez. Sorry to bother you at work, but is there somewhere we can speak privately?”

Both men held out badges and easily flipped the leather wallet, flashing FBI – Special Agent credentials on the other side.

“Did something happen?” I asked.

“No, ma’am. We just need a quick word in private. If now’s not a good time we can schedule a meeting in a public place. Sam’s perhaps?”

Shit. He recognized me. Did he think I was stalking him?

“Can you tell me what it’s about?” I asked.

“We need to ask you a few questions about your attack,” the other man answered.

Attack.

My vision blurred, and I fought to keep my composure.

“Meadow?” Nick called my name. When his face came into focus, he continued, “We can do this another time. We didn’t want to ambush you at work, but did think it would be best to approach you somewhere you felt safe.”

Feel safe? I never felt safe. I only left my house by sheer force of will, that and after I had a dream, I had to leave, so the walls didn’t close in on me.

“Did you catch him?”

“No, ma’am. We were hoping you could answer a few questions,” Gonzales answered.

“Can you give me a minute to tell my boss I’m taking my lunch?”

“Certainly. Take your time.” Nick smiled, only this time I didn’t revel in his good looks. The fantasy of him had come to a crashing halt. He was an FBI agent and knew the details of my attack. Not that I was ever planning to talk to him, but I could pretend in my mind. Now that was over.

After a brief talk with my boss, I led the agents down the hall to the employee lounge and braced for the onslaught of misery. Both men waited for me to sit before Gonzales took the seat across the small linoleum table and Nick bought water from the vending machine and sat it in front of me.

“I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but do you remember anything new from the night you were attacked?” Nick asked.

That was the million-dollar question. The double-edged sword, so to speak. Two sides of the same blade, both equally sharp, either side would cut deep. If I could remember more, how much more devastating would my dreams be? Would I live out the whole attack in vivid detail? But by not remembering, I was of no help. The man who did this to me was still free.

“I don’t understand. I was attacked five years ago. I went through countless interviews with the police. I haven’t heard from them in years.”

“Again, I’m very sorry to ask you to relive something so horrible. We have a case that is similar; that’s why we’re here,” Nick answered.

“Similar? He did it again?”

Oh no. No. No. No. I should’ve moved back to California when I woke up in the hospital, and my mom had begged me to move home, but I’d refused. At the time I had friends here, though they all slowly dwindled away when I didn’t recover fast enough for them, and I’d continually refused to accept their invitations to go out. There was also the issue of my step-father. He was a jerk, and I hated him. However, I should’ve listened to her and moved.

“Him?” Nick asked.

“What?” I asked. Now he was confusing me. Were we not talking about my attacker?

“You said him.”

“Right.” I drug out the word, still not understanding what he was getting at.