Hear Me by Skye Warren Page A

had read online somewhere.
    We had both agreed that sounded kinky.
    Well, she was probably right about my mind being all messed up. But maybe it didn’t matter. If I wanted to be with Sam and he liked me this way, it should be enough. Every day, I believed a little bit more. It could be enough.
    I had been so confused when I first got back, lost. Everything had seemed foreign at the beginning. Now I examined the apartment with new eyes, like an investigator looking for clues. Who am I? And why would anyone want to live in this sterilized bubble of an apartment?
    Clothes hung in the closet, neat. The cabinets were stacked with toiletries and linens, everything so orderly. I remembered this as my apartment; it just didn’t feel lived in.
    I went to the fridge where some cut fruit and a jar of milk sat in the front. It was otherwise empty. No clue as to what I had eaten before, no rotten telltale food. Someone must have cleaned it out when I had gone missing. That was smart, not creepy. A missing persons report had been filed, police had been through here.
    Despite my own vigorous assurances, I sat on the couch with my arms wrapped around my waist, hunched over as if invisible enemies might storm through the walls. I couldn’t just sit here. I needed to talk to someone.
    Not Anya, because I had definitely used up as much support time as she could spare. Besides I wasn’t looking forward to another lecture on how a random Dom could beat me into healing. Been there, done that.
    I flipped through the numbers on my phone. My old cell phone had disappeared when I did and never been found. This was a new fancy thing that I couldn’t really figure out, and the only numbers on here were Anya’s and a few other people’s I barely knew. As I stared at the cluttered screen, the phone vibrated and rang. I jumped, startled, and didn’t relax much when I saw who was calling.
    “Hello?”
    “Hello, Ms. Cole. This is Detective Hines.”
    Willy had called every week since I got back, but it had only been a few days since his last check-in. What could be wrong? I smoothed my hands over my skirt and told myself to get a grip. “What is it?”
    “I finally got your old phone records here. They were sealed up real tight. Are you sure you don’t know anyone who’d have the motive or influence to do something like that?”
    “No, I… ” That was the problem. I couldn’t remember everything. This life seemed so flat, so empty. Had I really lived like this? “I think I’m just your average girl.”
    “An average girl with a boyfriend, looks like. One number appears pretty often, especially leading up to your disappearance. Know anyone by the name of Pike? Brendan Pike?”
    A rushing sound filled my ears, drowning out his next words. “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”
    The phone slipped from my fingers. Hines’s voice, tinny and small now, buzzed from the ground, and all I could think was: I really don’t belong here. I had to get out. Grabbing my purse, I took the elevator downstairs but paused in front of the doorman.
    I would have passed him every day, but he gave me a blank look. “Can I help you?”
    “Listen, I know this is going to sound strange, but I was gone for a while and I’m a little… well, I live in apartment 9A. Did anyone used to come visit me? Maybe regularly. Like… a guy?” Well, didn’t I just sound like a stupid little slut? That thought hit a little close to home.
    He glanced at the door. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m new here, so I couldn’t really say.”
    “Ah. While I was, uh, gone, someone cleared out my fridge. I was wondering who might have done that? Or—” I waved my hand. “—had access?”
    “Let me check with the building owner.” He got on a wall phone. “Yes, sir. Sorry to bother you. There’s a woman here asking about who had access to her place. Yeah, 9A. Okay, I’ll tell her, sir.”
    He hung up and turned to me. “That was the building