I got up and walked into the kitchen. I hoisted out the step stool from its spot tucked in the pantry and walked back to the living room. The step stool opened with a click and I set it just beneath the vent. The cold air pushed over my shoulders and sent a chill down my spine.
Unfortunately, I can’t say I kept the card for purely curious reasons. Cooper had also grabbed my attention, but in a much different way. I pressed my thighs together to ease the surge of need. Letting out a sigh, I walked outside to Erik’s tools and grabbed the screwdriver. I climbed up the stepladder and undid the vent. The card was taped just inside. I didn’t want it flapping around or making any noise.
It peeled off, and I stepped down, looking at the black ink and simple logo.
I’d had no luck figuring anything out about my past or about the incident. Maybe it was time to call in help.
I didn’t have an email address, so the only option was to call. I dialed the number and put the phone to my ear. It rang twice before his familiar voice came on the other end of the line.
“Dr. Walsh speaking.”
“Um, hi. Yes. This is...” My tongue flicked over my lips. “Um, well I don’t know if you’ll remember me, actually.”
“It helps if you start with your name,” he said in a light tone.
“Oh, right. Lenore—we met at the grocery store the other day? When the man...” What? Grabbed her? Thought she was someone else? Scared the hell out of her?
“Ahh, yes,” he said. “I remember. How are you doing?”
“I’m not sure.” A breath rushed from her lungs. “I can’t get what happened the other day out of my mind, and I was hoping I could talk to you about it.”
“Of course. I have an opening on Saturday...”
“No!” She rubbed her hand on her thigh. “I mean, that’s... I meant off the clock. Because you were there, and maybe you could help me figure something out?”
He hesitated, and she couldn’t blame him. They’d met once in the grocery store. Meeting a strange woman off the clock could be dangerous. Not just in a physical sense, but because of his career. Misconduct and all that.
“Please?” she all but pleaded. “We could get coffee. My treat.”
The little money she’d stashed away would work for this. She hadn’t realized that’s what it would be for until this moment.
“Sure,” Cooper finally said. “There’s a shop close to the grocery store. I’ll text you the address. Six PM?”
Relief flooded through her. Maybe now she’d be able to figure out why she was so obsessed over that day. Cooper would probably put her mind at ease, say she was obsessing. And maybe she was, but that might have been because she couldn’t talk to anyone about it.
“Thank you.”
We hung up, and a moment later my phone buzzed. I realized I hadn’t given him the number, but these days that didn’t matter. Caller ID was on every phone available. After I spoke with Cooper, I’d need to make sure I wiped all the messages and calls from the phone. Then I’d block the number. Erik would not be happy if he knew I was talking to another man.
I put a hand to my belly, fingers spreading over the soft fabric of my blouse. The gnawing deep inside made me feel sick. There was an inherent wrongness to all of this, and I trusted Erik to my very core. At least I thought I did. But if that were true, why didn’t I tell him that someone had tried to assault me? Made him believe that he had put the bruises on my arm, instead of the man who had.
Great. Even though I hadn’t been the original bad guy in this scenario, the lying and secrets were leading me that way. But hopefully I’d be able to resolve this before Erik returned. Right now he was just arriving at the airport. His flight took off at 5:00 pm and it was a four-hour trip. With him thirty thousand feet up, I’d be safe to meet Cooper without being caught. I’d leave the phone home though. Just in case.
Squaring my shoulders, I went to change. When Erik got home, this would all be over. Cooper was a psychiatrist. He’d let me know that I was obsessing over nothing. He also might think I'm mental and have me institutionalized.
Irrational? Yes. I had paranoid moments, but who wouldn’t when they only remembered the last six months of their life?
After changing into a pair of jeans and a cream v-neck shirt, I put on my comfortable sneakers and went for a walk. I left the phone on the table by the couch.
The Foamy Cup, as the little independent cafe was called, had a very modern feel, with low lit lights and wooden tables. An oversize plush couch sat against the far wall, with several shelves with used books over it. Cooper sat at a corner table, his thumb flicking at the screen on his phone. He had a medium-sized cup in front of him with a plastic lid and one of those sleeves to keep his hand from getting burnt.
People milled around, going back and forth through the place. They sat at tables, discussing things I only got bits and pieces of. College students worked on papers or projects. Artists and philosophers discussed things about their various passions. A group of moms sat, sipping on coffee as they discussed their life—and yes, they were glad for some adult time without the kids. Everyone had a reason for being here, and mine was to get some answers, finally.
Cooper looked up and smiled, dimple pressing into the corner of his cheek. I paused for a moment and had to force my mouth to stay shut. It wanted to unhinge and hang open like a schoolgirl with her first crush.
One thing about
