Forgotten (2 page)

I sip on some lukewarm Lipton tea and wait.

The cops are in uniform so it’s pretty obvious what’s going on when they come in, scanning the room for me. They see me and I stand up to greet them.

One guy is really tall, but kind of awkward. He’s the type who should have played basketball because of his height, but something tells me he was probably more interested in books than athletics. He’s got a tightly clipped mustache and glasses.

“Campbell?” he says as they approach.

“That’s me.”

We shake hands. His fingers are cold and his grip is almost painful. “My name is Officer Riley and this is my partner, Officer Hanson.”

Officer Hanson is pudgy, average height, bald. His eyes are light blue and sharp and he has a scar over his upper lip. I wonder if he got it on the job.

“Good to meet you both.”

“Have a seat,” Officer Riley says, removing his cap.

I sit down and slide my tray aside.

The two cops sit down opposite me at the table. Officer Riley is so tall that he needs to push his chair pretty far back just to fit.

“Long night?” Riley asks.

“Yeah.” I try to grin but my mouth can’t seem to form a smile right now. “I’m worried about Nat…Natalia. Have you seen her yet?”

They exchange looks. “Let’s just get the basics down first,” Riley tells me, pulling out a notepad. He asks me my name, address, phone number, gets my license and slides it to his partner. “Make a copy of this before we go.”

“Sure thing.”

“Look, I didn’t hurt Natalia,” I tell them both.

“Why don’t you explain to us everything you can about the last couple of days since you both ran away from home.”

I laugh at this, but the looks on their faces stop me cold. They’re pissed. “We didn’t run away from home.”

“You both got in your cars and left without informing your parents of where you were going, correct?”

“I told my mother I was going to Maine, to my dad’s house.”

“But you didn’t do that, did you? Natalia’s mother says you went to some motel.

May I ask which one?”

Shit. I feel myself starting to shake and sweat now. “I don’t remember the name of it. One of those crappy little places right off the highway. We paid cash.”

“Well, could you show us where it was located at least?”

“Probably.”

They exchange looks again. I realize I’m digging myself a pretty big hole with this conversation.

“We’d sure appreciate it if you could try and remember the name of the motel you stayed at that first night.”

“Okay,” I say, anxious to change the subject. “But everything was fine that night.

And then we went to my dad’s—”

“Excuse me,” Officer Riley says, holding up a hand. He looks at his notes, then pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “What exactly did the two of you do while you were holed up in this so-called motel?”

“Nothing much. Watched TV. Talked.”

“Talked. About what?”

“About school. We’ve been having some problems with the other kids. Nothing important, just stupid high school drama. And we wanted to get away from all of that for a couple of days. That’s all.”

“Okay, so you talked. No alcohol, no drugs involved?”

I laugh a little, shake my head. “No. I’m on the football team.”

Now it’s Riley’s turn to laugh, but it’s not a friendly sound. “Right, and we all know that football players are always so squeaky clean.”

Officer Hanson grins at him. “Sure, that’s why I just read that story about the guy from The Jets being arrested for assaulting two dancers at a strip club. Another model citizen.”

I look at both of them, trying to maintain my composure. “I’m just saying that I don’t mess around with drugs. We get tested.”

“Okay,” Riley says, but it’s obvious he’s suspicious. “So you guys just talked at this motel.”

I stare at him. “That’s right.”

“And the two of you aren’t engaging in sexual activity?”

“No. We’ve kissed and stuff.” I feel my face grow hot, and I hate the fact that they’re making me embarrassed when I’ve done nothing wrong.

“And stuff,” Hanson chuckles.

“You can tell us the truth,” Riley says. “Just be honest and this will all be over much quicker, and with a heck of a lot less trouble.”

“I am telling the truth.”

“Did Natalia still have her mother’s car at this time?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Do you know where that car is now?”

“I don’t. I think it was stolen.”

“From the motel parking lot?”

“Maybe.”

“But you never called the police.”

“We were scared. Nat knew her mother would be angry. So we left and went to my dad’s house.”

The officers glance at each other, then both look back at me. They’re staring me down, with a look that I’ve never really seen before. And then I realize what it is.

They think I’m a criminal.

Chapter Three

Natalia

“Where’s Cam?” I ask my mom when she comes back into my hospital room.

“He went to the cafeteria to get some food,” she says brightly. She walks over to the windows and starts trying to turn the crank on one of them. “We should get some air in here, don’t you think?” But her voice sounds falsely cheerful, and something about her demeanor makes me instantly suspicious.

“What do you mean he went to get something to eat?” I ask. Cam ate right before my mom got here, a turkey sandwich and an apple that he brought up from the cafeteria.

We tried to share it, but I couldn’t really manage to get anything down. My stomach’s been churning every since Cam found me on the beach this morning.

“He was hungry,” she says, shrugging. She’s managed to get a bit of the window open, and a slight breeze blows through the room. “There we go!” She sounds satisfied.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I say, frowning. “We just ate.”

“I guess he was still hungry.”

“He would have asked if I wanted something.”

She sighs and then walks over to the side of the bed, brushes my hair back from my face. “Natalia,” she says. Her eyes look tired, and there’s a coffee stain on her light blue sweater. She must have been woken up by Cam’s call, must have jumped out of bed and grabbed whatever clothes were nearby. I picture her, bleary-eyed, still a little tired, being told her daughter’s in the hospital. I shiver.

“Mom,” I say. “Where’s Cam?”

“Sweetie. “ She sits down on the edge of my bed, and takes my hand in hers. Her hand is warm, comforting. It feels exactly like what a mom’s hand should feel like. Soft and worn from hours of braiding hair, rubbing backs, and stroking foreheads. “You’ve obviously been through a lot,” she says. “And the only person with you was Campbell.”

“I know that,” I say. “So could you ask him to come back to the room and be here with me right now?” Doesn’t she realize that if the only person with me was Cam, that means he should be here, by my side, taking care of me?

“Natalia,” she says again.

“Stop saying my name!” I snap.

Her eyes are looking at me with sympathy and worry, like she wants to spare me from whatever it is she’s about to say, but knows that she can’t.

“Cam didn’t hurt me,” I tell her, my voice softer now.

“How do you know?”

“Because he wouldn’t do that.”

“You haven’t known Cam that long.”

“I’ve known him long enough.” She’s right, of course. I
haven’t
known Cam that long. But I know him enough to be certain he would never, ever hurt me. He loves me.

We’ve been through so much together, and he’s always stuck by my side. I’m the one who doubted him. I’m the one who lied to him about being with Brody.

“Please, sweetie, you need to stay calm.” Her hand is back on my forehead, pushing my hair back away from my face, but this time, I turn away. “You need to – ”

She doesn’t get to finish, though, because a doctor enters my room. Dr. Palermo.

He’s young, probably just a few years out of medical school, and he’s the one who ordered the MRI for me and kept telling me that everything was going to be okay. He’s put me at ease from the moment I got here, unlike some of the other doctors, who’ve been short and blunt, ordering tests and making notes, treating me like a case and not a person.

Immediately, my mom’s all over him. “Doctor,” she says, jumping up from my bed. “I’m Beth Moore, Natalia’s mother.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says. “I’m Dr. Palermo.” He walks over to my bed and gives me a smile. “How are you feeling, Natalia?”

“Fine.” I twist the blankets in my hands. “Just a little anxious.”

He smiles again, then turns a little toward my mom, including her in the conversation. “Well, the good news is the MRI didn’t show anything, so I think we can rule out a tumor or any kind of significant brain injury.”

“Oh, thank God,” my mom says, her face flooding with relief. She squeezes my hand tight.

“What’s the bad news?” I ask.

“The bad news is that since everything looks normal, we don’t know what’s causing the memory loss. Sometimes after a traumatic event, the brain does things we can’t understand, which seems to be what’s happening to you.” His voice is comforting and calm, and I feel myself relax just a little bit.

“What do you mean, a traumatic event?” my mom asks. She frowns, and a v-shaped wrinkle appears between her eyes. “I thought you said there was no injury.”

I know what the doctor’s going to say before he even says it, and I know it’s going to make my mom freak out. I close my eyes
. Cam, where are you?

“There’s no
physical
trauma,” Dr. Palermo says. “But it’s possible that something psychological or emotional happened to Natalia, and as a result she’s repressed her memories. It’s not exactly common, and typically repression occurs in memories from early childhood, but there are rare cases where a patient can actually have amnesia caused by PTSD.”

“PTSD.” My mom’s voice is quiet, like the doctor just said I have cancer. Her grip on my hand gets even tighter. This is just going to reinforce the idea that Cam attacked me, or whatever the hell it is that she’s thinking.

The doctor nods slightly, his eyes uncertain. “It’s just one possibility, Ms. Moore.

We can’t be sure right now what’s causing Natalia’s memory loss.”

“But there’s no physical trauma?” my mom repeats. “What about the scratches on her face?”

The doctor glances down at my chart. “Natalia did have some minor cuts and abrasions on her body. But there was nothing major that would give us a clue as to what may have happened to her.”

I feel my mom bristle beside me. “Nothing major that would give you a clue as to what may have happened to her? How about the fact that she showed up here, with a boy she hardly knows, all cut up and bleeding, claiming she had no idea what happened to her!”

“Ms. Moore,” Dr. Palermo says, his voice sympathetic. “I know this must be a horrible shock for you and your daughter. But the injuries Natalia has aren’t consistent with what we typically find in cases of domestic abuse. Still, I’m not ruling anything out at this time. We just don’t have enough information to form a conclusion right now.”

“So that’s it?” she says. “You’re just going to send her home?”

“Mom, please,” I say. “I
want
to go home. I’m fine.”

“We can hold her overnight for observation if you wish,” the doctor says. “But I don’t think that’s necessary. It’s very possible her memory may come back on its own.

And we can certainly schedule her a follow up appointment with a neurologist in a few weeks, to make sure that she’s well taken care of.”

“I’d like to speak to another doctor about this, please,” my mom says quietly.

“Mom,” I say. “Please. I just want to go home.” My eyes are filling up with tears. I want Cam. I want my bed. I just want this whole nightmare to be over with.

“You can certainly speak with another doctor,” Dr. Palermo says. If he’s insulted, he doesn’t show it. “I can send a colleague in as soon as I brief them on your daughter’s case.” He looks at me, like maybe he wants to say something else, but then he changes his mind. He turns back to my mom. “In the meantime, the officers in the cafeteria would like to speak with you.”

“What officers?” I ask.

“The police officers,” the doctor says. “They’ve finished questioning Campbell, and now they’d like to speak with your mother.” His pager goes off, and he checks it.

“Excuse me,” he says. “I’ll send in another doctor, and order up the discharge paperwork in case you do decide to leave.” He pats me on the shoulder, and then he’s gone, out the door in a swish of his white coat.

“Mom,” I say. I’m struggling to keep my voice even. White-hot anger is pulsing through my veins, and my hand twists the sheets on my bed tighter and tighter. “Please tell me you’re not the one who called the police on Cam.”

“Natalia,” she says, “you’re my daughter. And I have to protect you.” She kissed me on the forehead. “I’ll be right back. If the new doctor comes in while I’m away, make sure he stays here until I’m back.”

After my mom leaves the room, I sit in bed, numb from shock.

Police questioning Cam? How could she do this to him?

I sit there and stare at the white wall in front of me, trying again desperately to remember
something
from this weekend. But all I can recall is talking to Cam after the game and then things get dark…and nothing. The very next thing I remember is waking up confused on the beach.

I’m so angry with myself. If I could just remember what happened to me this weekend, then Cam wouldn’t be in trouble anymore. I wonder if I should lie and say my memory came back, if there’s any way they could prove it hasn’t.

All I know is I can’t let this continue. It’s already been nearly fifteen minutes since my mom left, and I can’t sit here anymore doing nothing.

I grab my clothes off the chair by the door and slip into the bathroom. I drop my hospital gown, leaving it on the floor, and throw on my jeans and sweater.

I have to find Cam.

Chapter Four

Campbell