Winter's Edge

Chapter 32 - Purple

Abby

MOONLIGHT beamed through the opening in the ceiling of the town square as Lena and I sat with our feet dangling in the water near the base of the waterfall. She was such a different person without her memory. We talked before, but we weren't really good friends. Now, she was easy to talk to. Her thicker French accent was a little hard to get used to at first, but that was normal for amnesia cases, as if the brain had forgotten what it learned the last several years that had reduced the accent.

"How's your head?" I said, leaning back to try and get a glimpse of it.

Lena put her hand to her head, but there was no wound now. "Feels fine. Can't even tell it was there." She shook her head. "It's so weird healing that fast."

I smiled. "You'll get used to it."

"I hope I don't get the chance," she said with a laugh.

"Good point." I giggled, but it trailed off. "Have you...seen anything out of the ordinary?"

She leaned in close. "You mean...like someone who might be the murderer?"

I shrugged. "Anything, really."

Her eyes and lips sank with her shoulders as she shook her head. "No."

"Where were you that night?" I said. Hopefully, she wouldn't take it the wrong way. "Maybe you saw something that could help."

Her mouth twisted. "I was still in the medical center, remember?"

I rolled my eyes at myself. "Sorry. Forgot."

"It's okay." Her head tilted. "Your mom was with me the whole time. And a few people came by to see me. Joseph. Artie." She smiled, a little giddy. "Reilly."

"What's that for?"

Her smile deepened. "He came by...a lot."

"Seriously? Reilly?" I looked around to see if anyone was lurking so late at night.

"He's cute, right?" Lena bit her lip.

I flushed. "He's like an older brother to me."

Her eyebrows rose. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"No, it's okay. It's just weird to think of him like that."

She hadn't given me hardly anything to go on except that she wasn't the killer. And I already knew it wasn't my mom, though that'd be one heck of a twist.

"It's getting late," I said and pulled my feet from the water to stand. Lena stood with me and we headed back to the private quarters.

When I arrived at my door, Ian stood in the loft, folding laundry.

"Oh, I didn't expect you here so late," I said.

"I'm almost finished." He sat a small stack of clothes on a shelf in the armoire.

I headed up the stairs when an idea came to mind. It had been intense here lately with the murder and questioning. Ian still seemed to be offended that people thought he could be guilty. I doubted I could do anything about that, but at least I could try to redirect his attention.

"Have you read my journal yet?"

"Yeah." Ian slipped a shirt onto a hanger. "Memorizing the symbols is easy. It'll take me a while to get quick at processing them, though. It's so different than English." He hung the last shirt in the armoire, then headed down the stairs. "See ya—"

"I wanna show you something in the Old City." It was late, but I didn't think he'd mind.

Ian stopped and looked back with a frown. "What, now?"