looking at him. The picture had gone, blown right out of his mind. He took a breath, concentrating, struggling to bring it back.
Nothing.
79
'A memory?' asked Kate, her tone hopeful.
Josh nodded.
Kate stood up from her chair, walked across the room and gripped Josh's arm. He could feel her nails digging into his skin. 'What?' she said quickly. 'What was the memory?'
Josh nodded towards the TV screen. 'Him,' he replied slowly. 'I was there. I saw Ben murdered. And I saw Luke. He was running away from me and he was shouting at the same time.'
Kate's nails dug harder into the skin of Josh's forearm. 'What?' she insisted. 'What did he say?'
Josh shook his head from side to side. 'I don't know. The memory is blurred. I can see, but I can't hear. I can feel him looking at me, and see his lips move, but I don't know what it is he is saying.'
'Try, Josh, try'
Josh broke free of Kate's grip. He took another hit of the coffee, letting the caffeine flood into his veins, hoping that the energy would put him back in touch with the memory. Nothing. His mind was still a blank.
'I can't see anything else,' he replied. 'It's gone.'
'It's a start,' she said. 'Once your memory starts recovering, it should all start coming back to you.'
'So long as you stay safe,' said Marshall as he stepped into the room.
'I know something about that murder,' said Josh. 'I don't know what it is exactly, but I know something. I was there.'
'Maybe it was you,' said Marshall. 'The Sheriff's office certainly seems pretty damned keen to talk to you.'
The question had been rattling through his mind for the past few days. Am I a murderer? he kept asking himself. Could I shoot a boy in cold blood?
'Do the letters S-A-S mean anything to you?' asked Marshall.
Josh paused. His mind was jumping all over the place,
80
making associations, but he couldn't pin anything down. The headache was coming back: the chisel was starting to tap away insistently at the inside of his skull again. 'No, nothing,' he answered blankly.
'The Regiment,' said Marshall. 'Hereford.'
Josh shook his head. 'Nothing. Why?'
Marshall took a step closer. There was still a bruise on his arm from the fight with the policeman yesterday, and his eyes had the rough appearance of a man who had slept badly. 'Couple of days back, when we were shooting together,' he said, 'you chose a Sig-Sauer P228 like it came natural to you. Like you already knew that gun. So I checked around with some of the veterans who use my website. I wanted to know which British regiments might have trained with that handgun. One guy had the answer.' He paused, looking towards the light beaming in through the window. 'The SAS. British special forces.They used to use Browning High Powers but then they moved on to Sig-Sauers, both the P226 and the P228 models.'
Josh let the words settle in his mind, rubbing his hand against the thick stubble that was growing fast on his face. He repeated the three letters a couple of times to himself. He closed his eyes and tried to relax his mind, intoning the letters silently in his head. No, nothing. No triggers, no flashes of recognition, no pictures. / don't even know what the sodding letters stand for.
'Mean anything to you, boy?'
Josh shook his head. \ already had one memory today. I think that's my lot.' He attempted a smile but could tell it was not likely to be reciprocated.
'You're SAS,'persisted Marshall.'The guns you know.The way you handle yourself when you shoot. I'm sure of it.' He took another step towards Josh, so close that he could smell the shaving foam that had just been washed off the older man's cheeks. In Marshall's eyes, Josh could suddenly
81
see a flash of the same anger and violence that he had seen yesterday: in that second Josh was certain that Marshall was a killer.
Maybe it was you that shot the boy? thought Josh. Maybe that's why your daughter happened to be in the area.
'What I want to know is this,' continued Marshall. 'What the hell is a
Nothing.
79
'A memory?' asked Kate, her tone hopeful.
Josh nodded.
Kate stood up from her chair, walked across the room and gripped Josh's arm. He could feel her nails digging into his skin. 'What?' she said quickly. 'What was the memory?'
Josh nodded towards the TV screen. 'Him,' he replied slowly. 'I was there. I saw Ben murdered. And I saw Luke. He was running away from me and he was shouting at the same time.'
Kate's nails dug harder into the skin of Josh's forearm. 'What?' she insisted. 'What did he say?'
Josh shook his head from side to side. 'I don't know. The memory is blurred. I can see, but I can't hear. I can feel him looking at me, and see his lips move, but I don't know what it is he is saying.'
'Try, Josh, try'
Josh broke free of Kate's grip. He took another hit of the coffee, letting the caffeine flood into his veins, hoping that the energy would put him back in touch with the memory. Nothing. His mind was still a blank.
'I can't see anything else,' he replied. 'It's gone.'
'It's a start,' she said. 'Once your memory starts recovering, it should all start coming back to you.'
'So long as you stay safe,' said Marshall as he stepped into the room.
'I know something about that murder,' said Josh. 'I don't know what it is exactly, but I know something. I was there.'
'Maybe it was you,' said Marshall. 'The Sheriff's office certainly seems pretty damned keen to talk to you.'
The question had been rattling through his mind for the past few days. Am I a murderer? he kept asking himself. Could I shoot a boy in cold blood?
'Do the letters S-A-S mean anything to you?' asked Marshall.
Josh paused. His mind was jumping all over the place,
80
making associations, but he couldn't pin anything down. The headache was coming back: the chisel was starting to tap away insistently at the inside of his skull again. 'No, nothing,' he answered blankly.
'The Regiment,' said Marshall. 'Hereford.'
Josh shook his head. 'Nothing. Why?'
Marshall took a step closer. There was still a bruise on his arm from the fight with the policeman yesterday, and his eyes had the rough appearance of a man who had slept badly. 'Couple of days back, when we were shooting together,' he said, 'you chose a Sig-Sauer P228 like it came natural to you. Like you already knew that gun. So I checked around with some of the veterans who use my website. I wanted to know which British regiments might have trained with that handgun. One guy had the answer.' He paused, looking towards the light beaming in through the window. 'The SAS. British special forces.They used to use Browning High Powers but then they moved on to Sig-Sauers, both the P226 and the P228 models.'
Josh let the words settle in his mind, rubbing his hand against the thick stubble that was growing fast on his face. He repeated the three letters a couple of times to himself. He closed his eyes and tried to relax his mind, intoning the letters silently in his head. No, nothing. No triggers, no flashes of recognition, no pictures. / don't even know what the sodding letters stand for.
'Mean anything to you, boy?'
Josh shook his head. \ already had one memory today. I think that's my lot.' He attempted a smile but could tell it was not likely to be reciprocated.
'You're SAS,'persisted Marshall.'The guns you know.The way you handle yourself when you shoot. I'm sure of it.' He took another step towards Josh, so close that he could smell the shaving foam that had just been washed off the older man's cheeks. In Marshall's eyes, Josh could suddenly
81
see a flash of the same anger and violence that he had seen yesterday: in that second Josh was certain that Marshall was a killer.
Maybe it was you that shot the boy? thought Josh. Maybe that's why your daughter happened to be in the area.
'What I want to know is this,' continued Marshall. 'What the hell is a
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