doctors called it “retrograde amnesia.” No identification had been found on her, and no one had come forward to report her missing following her injury. The police had done all they could, and her own efforts to uncover her unremembered past had proven an exercise in futility.
Justine stared hard at her reflection, once again willing the stranger within to make herself known but, as always, her efforts to remember proved fruitless. A short time later, laughter drifted up to her from downstairs and she snapped out of her trance. Edmond would wonder what had happened to her. She adjusted a thick lock of hair so it covered the scar, and did her best to shake off her frustration at an unremembered past which had haunted her like a ghost for six years.
She had a good life and a terrific man with whom to share it. Whoever she had once been, the time had come to say goodbye to that woman once and for all. Turning away from the mirror, she headed downstairs to rejoin the party.
* * * *
Later that night, lying in bed next to Edmond, warm after their slow round of lovemaking despite the bitter cold outdoors, he placed his arm around her and kissed her softly.
“Justine?”
She looked at him, his features tinged silver in the moonlit room.“Hmm?”
“How did you know?”
“Know what, sweetie?”
“That there was someone in the house earlier tonight.”
She hesitated, wondering how to explain the warning signs her body had given off. “I don’t know... I just kind of felt it. Intuition, I guess.”
He smiled. “You’re a little weird, you know that?”
She felt his strong arms go around her and buried her face in his neck, breathing in his musky scent until she drifted to sleep.
* * * *
The following evening, Edmond dropped her back home after they shared dinner at their favorite local restaurant. She kissed him deeply before she exited the car in front of their house.
“Win big,” she said.
Some of Edmond’s friends at the insurance company where he worked had lined up their annual poker tournament for tonight, a ritual for the past five years, and he’d looked forward to it all week.
“I’ll try not to lose the house. Look, it’ll probably turn into an all-nighter. You sure you’ll be okay on your own? Luke said Jessica would be glad to come over and spend the night if you want company.”
“Are you kidding? All I want is a hot bath and then I’m going to bed.” Between working overtime again and the party last night, she was all in. “You go ahead and have fun,” she said through the open car door. “I’m going inside. It’s freezing.”
“Okay, call me on my cell if you need anything.”
She closed the car door and watched him pull away, then turned and hurried up the driveway. Grateful to be out of the cold—it had to be thirty below tonight—she quickly entered the house and shut the door behind her. JB was not at the door to greet her, and she stopped unbuttoning her coat. He was always at the entrance whenever she arrived home. When she heard him barking furiously from the back of the house, her hackles rose. With a growing sense of unease, she walked the few steps to the kitchen, put her hand out and flicked the light switch on the wall to her right. She tensed and took a step back in surprise.
A behemoth of a man stood in the center of the kitchen. She took in his massive shoulders, straining against the fabric of the overcoat he wore, a neck as thick as a tree trunk then looked directly into his flinty eyes. There was a sense of barely suppressed menace about him. He looked as lethal as a cocked gun. JB continued barking frantically from behind the closed mud room door.
Justine shivered inside her heavy wool coat as if the icy wind had suddenly found its way indoors.
“Who the hell are you?” she demanded, certain she sounded a lot braver than she felt.
The man’s meaty hand traveled to his midsection and he unbuttoned his coat. He moved his considerable bulk in her direction without answering.
A kind of blind intuition seized control of Justine before panic had a chance to enter and make itself at home. She surprised herself by streaking to the counter on her left, moving like a blur. Her gaze locked onto the sharpest of the knives in the wooden rack. In the next instant, the knife flew into her open hand, its rubber handle slapping neatly into her palm, blade up. She stared at it for a second, unable to understand how it had gotten there. Her eyes watered as a dull pounding began at her temples. A trickle of warm blood oozed from her right nostril onto her upper lip.
She operated purely on instinct and her arm went back as she took aim, then let fly the knife. With uncanny precision, it embedded itself in the upper part of the man’s arm, just as he reached inside his overcoat for something.
Justine barely had time to acknowledge the impossibility of what she had just done when the man, uttering a cry, stooped to retrieve the gun he had dropped. She moved again, faster than before, and darted back to the front entrance. Bullets ripped through the air around her, whizzing by her head to slam into the door, which forced her to veer left. She flew up the stairs and reached the second floor landing just as the man arrived at the foot of the staircase. Now what? She had managed to trap herself on the second floor. With nowhere else to go, she raced through the first doorway on her right, entered her bedroom and locked the door behind her. She ran for the phone on the nightstand, but a hail of bullets ripping through the door stopped her in her tracks. A burning sensation swept across her ear and the air stirred next to her cheek as a bullet grazed her. She had to get out of the house, away from this maniac, now.
Her arms went up in front of her. She hurtled through the window overlooking the street and followed fragments of glass out into the bitter night. The pavement rushed up to meet her, and she had just enough time to wonder how many bones she was about to break when, incredibly, she landed on her feet in a crouched position on the driveway, unharmed.
And just how the hell had she managed to do that?
The man appeared at the broken window two floors above.
“Israfel,” he called out.
Justine’s vision went dark. She felt the air leave her lungs, making it hard to breathe. Her heart turned over then raced.
Memory returned, arriving all at once, and rolled over her like a tsunami. With it came vivid images that swirled all around her, dancing like bright colors in front of her eyes. Her vision doubled, then trebled, as past and present attempted to meld, making her head spin so badly she collapsed onto the snowy pavement.
She squeezed her eyes shut, opened them and shook her head to clear it. When she regained her feet, the man had disappeared from the upstairs window. In another second, he’d burst through the front door after her.
Justine ran, jumbled memories flapping all around her like swarming bats. She barely registered the glacial wind, or her next door neighbor, Carol, who opened her front door and called out to her as she flew by. She raced blindly along the icy street, the single word the man had uttered roaring like thunder in her ears.
Israfel. He had spoken her name. Her real name.
As
