Bethany nodded. Her eyebrows furrowed in a frown as she glanced at him. “Do regressive memories count for testimony in a court trial?”
“That would depend on a lot of things. The psychiatrist who assisted in exposing these memories would be under a lot of scrutiny since false memories have led to unjust convictions before,” Drew watched her, wondering at her angle. “Why do you want to know?”
“It was a crime, wasn’t it? He almost killed me,” there was a tinge of fear in her eyes. There was determination too.
Drew sighed. “You said it was a nightmare. A reoccurring dream. Without more to go on, no one can say that it’s a memory. Who owns the boat are you were on in your memory?”
“I don’t know,” Bethany whispered.
“You say the voices are familiar, but you don’t know who they are,” he stated.
“That’s right. I feel if I could just figure out who they are, I would know the rest,” she said in frustration.
“There’s no motive for trying to drown you,” Drew reasoned. “Plus, you’re obviously alive.”
“Is there anything that can be done?” Bethany asked, her eyes pleading with him.
“I need proof of a crime to charge someone,” Drew felt sympathy for her. He told himself firmly that was all he felt. “I’m sorry.”
Bethany slumped in the passenger seat and nodded. She hadn’t really expected him to do anything. How could he when she didn’t know who was at fault or what really happened all those years ago? She fiddled with her purse strap and tried to ignore the ever present frustration. Drew came around to her door, opening it for her.
“Look, if you think of any more details, you can always let me know,” Drew offered, much against his better judgement. “If it gets to a point where we can start an investigation, I’ll be willing to help.”
“Really?” Bethany looked at him hopefully. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. She put her hand in his and gracefully stepped out of the truck. “I’d really appreciate that.”
Drew quickly dropped her hand. He was already regretting his impulsive offer to help. He nodded and gestured to the drab police building. “Shall we?”
He escorted Bethany inside. It didn’t take long to fill in a statement form, have her sign it and call the shrink to confirm her story. Bethany might be crazy, but according to the psychiatrist, she was telling the truth. Drew called her a taxi and sent Bethany on her way after she reminded him of his offer to help if she remembered any more of the dream that had been plaguing her.
Drew agreed because he was a man of his word. Part of him hoped he would see her again. Most of him hoped that was the last of Bethany Searson in his life. Drew did not need that sort of complication. She might be the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen, she might have made him feel ten feet tall, carrying her off that boat like a hero, but she was trouble. He didn’t fit into her world and she didn’t fit in to his. Drew watched her leave the police station then resolutely put her from his mind.
When he went to join his boss and the rest of the narcotics team he was greeted by the sight of them all hovering around Dman’s phone.
“Want to share?” Drew asked dryly as the group quickly split up, the guys looking guilty as ever.
“We already did,” Colby grinned unrepentantly. “It’s all over the station.”
Drew had a look at the picture on Dman’s phone. It was of him, carrying that blasted purse down the marina.
“I’m not sure Gucci is really your style,” Miguel commented with a snicker.
“Thanks,” Drew said dryly. “Maybe if Monroe could do his job, I wouldn’t have had a civilian on my part of the operation. Where is Monroe anyways?”
“He’s down for the count,” Capt. Green entered the room. “Food poisoning. Nice purse Colborne.”
Drew sighed and slumped into a chair. He was going to endure a lot of teasing during the next week or so until something more funny made the rounds of the police station.
