GrowingOlderHopeWiser

Zoe and Gabe arrived at the emergency department of St. Mary’s Hospital and were taken in immediately.

Gabe’s left eye had swollen nearly shut. Blood stained the collar of his shirt, and every few minutes, he pressed a hand to his right temple as if trying to hold back the pain. By the time they reached the admitting desk, his balance had worsened so badly that he had to lean on Zoe to stay upright.

Dr. Lowe was on duty. After examining Gabe’s pupils, reflexes, and the swelling at the back of his head, his expression grew serious.

“I’m recommending an MRI and a consultation with a neurologist,” he said. “The memory loss may be related to the blow to his head, but I want to rule out bleeding or another injury.”

Zoe’s grip tightened around the strap of her bag. “Is he in danger?”

“I’ll know more after the imaging.”

A nurse cleaned Gabe’s wounds, placed an identification band around his wrist, and helped him change into a hospital gown. When she returned with a wheelchair, Gabe shook his head.

“I can walk.”

“You can barely stand,” Zoe said.

He looked at her with a faint smile. “You always were bossy.”

Zoe went still.

“What did you say?”

Gabe’s smile faded. Confusion clouded his face.

“I don’t know.”

The nurse helped him into the wheelchair and pushed him toward radiology. Zoe followed as far as the restricted doors, forcing herself to let go when the technician stepped forward.

“I’ll be right here when you come out,” she promised.

Gabe searched her face, troubled by something he could not name.

“Why does it feel as though you’ve said that to me before?”

Before Zoe could answer, the technician wheeled him away.

Inside the MRI room, Gabe lay flat on the narrow table while the technician secured a padded brace around his head.

“This is going to be loud,” the technician said. “You’ll hear knocking, buzzing, thumping. Try not to move. If you get scared or need us to stop, squeeze this.”

He placed a rubber call button into Gabe’s hand.

The table began to move.

Slowly, Gabe slid into the machine. The curved ceiling closed in above him, hovering just inches from his face. He shut his eyes and forced himself to breathe.

In through the nose.

Out through the mouth.

Then the first mechanical pounding started.

A flash of lightning.

Rain slashed across an empty rooftop. Zoe stood before him, younger than he remembered, her dark hair plastered to her face. A police vest clung to her body. She raised her gun with both hands.

“Don’t do it, Gabe!” she shouted over the storm. “Wait for backup!”

He saw himself climb over the ledge.

“If we wait, the girl dies.”

The memory vanished.

The MRI hammered around him.

Another image surfaced.

Zoe sat across from him in a twenty-four-hour diner, two untouched coffees between them. Dawn pressed pale light against the windows.

“You can’t save everyone,” she said.

“I saved you.”

“No,” Zoe replied softly. “You gave me time to save myself.”

Her hand reached across the table and covered his.

Gabe tried to hold on to the warmth of her touch, but the memory dissolved.

The machine roared again.

A police station.

Brian North stood across from him and slid a folder over the desk. CONFIDENTIAL was stamped across the cover. Inside was a photograph of Patrick O’Reilly.

“If you go undercover,” Brian said, “you disappear completely. No calls to Zoe. No meetings. Nothing that could expose you or her.”

Gabe stared at the photograph.

Then he picked up the pen.

And signed.

The memory lurched forward.

He stood outside Zoe’s apartment late at night, rain dripping from his coat. Through the window, he could see her sitting alone on the couch, one hand pressed to her mouth.

His hand hovered near the doorbell.

For one aching second, he almost pressed it.

Then he lowered his hand, turned away from Zoe’s door, and disappeared into the rain.

Inside the MRI tube, Gabe’s breathing sharpened.

The next memory struck with terrifying clarity.

An alley.

Dan Haines stood beneath a flickering light, his face tense and pale.

“The O’Reillys know who you are,” Haines said. “They know about Detective Bailey, too.”

Before Gabe could answer, a second man stepped from the darkness behind him.

Pain exploded at the back of his skull.

He dropped to his knees.

Through blurred vision, he saw Haines struggling with the other man. A gunshot cracked between the brick walls.

Haines collapsed.

The shadowy figure crouched beside Gabe and reached into his coat.

His badge.

His wallet.

Then everything went black.

Gabe’s eyes flew open.

The tunnel surrounded him. The pounding had not stopped. The walls seemed closer now, the air thinner. His pulse thundered louder than the machine.

His hand clenched around the call button.

This time, he squeezed.

“Get me out!”

The machine stopped. A moment later, the table began sliding from the tube. The technician rushed to his side.

Gabe dragged in a breath, his body trembling, his eyes wild with recognition.

“Get Detective Bailey.”

Minutes later, Zoe rushed into the recovery area. Gabe was sitting upright on the bed, ignoring the technician’s instructions to lie down.

“Gabe, what happened?”

He looked at her.

For the first time since she had found him, there was recognition in his eyes.

“I remember you.”

Zoe stopped beside the bed.

“How?”

“You were my partner.” His voice softened. “And more than that.”

The color drained from her face. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Gabe gripped the edge of the hospital bed as another wave of dizziness passed through him.

“I was inside the O’Reilly organization,” he said. “Dan Haines was my informant. He had proof—names, payments, everything.”

Zoe leaned closer, her voice low. “Proof of what?”

“Kidnappings. Money laundering. Cops on Brady’s payroll.” Gabe swallowed hard. “Dan was bringing me the ledger when someone found us.”

Zoe’s expression tightened. “Who?”

“I don’t know.” He closed his eyes, trying to force the memory into focus. “I only saw a shadow.”

He opened his eyes again.

“But whoever it was took my badge and wallet after Dan went down.”

Zoe absorbed that in silence.

“That’s why Brady thinks you have the ledger,” she said.

Gabe nodded slowly as the truth settled over him.

A few minutes later, Dr. Lowe stepped away from the bed to speak with the technician. Zoe waited until they were alone before moving closer.

“There’s something you need to know,” she said.

Gabe studied her face. “Did you find Anna?”

“She walked into the station tonight.” Zoe’s voice softened. “Bruised and frightened, but alive.”

His eyes closed. The breath left him in a broken rush.

“Thank God.”

Zoe watched him carefully. His relief appeared genuine, too immediate and unguarded to be performed.

“Did she say how she escaped?” he asked.

“She said a man helped her in Central Park.”

Gabe opened his eyes.

“Was it me?”

“She couldn’t identify him. It was dark, and she was running for her life.”

A flash struck him.

Ropes around Anna’s wrists.

Julian shouting.

Rain shining beneath a streetlamp.

Gabe’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“I remember cutting her loose.”

Zoe barely breathed.

“I told her to keep running.”

To be continued…