“I dream about her... about them.” He hadn’t meant to say the words aloud.
Amy’s head tilted and her brow furrowed.
Unable to take the words back, he forged on. “That’s why I took the sleeping pills so frequently this week because I didn’t want to dream about them.” He shared his reoccurring dreams of following his wife and daughter through bizarre mazes, where they always remained out of reach, then disappeared into a black abyss.
Amy placed a comforting hand on his arm. “That must be terrible to experience over and over.”
“It is. But I can often hear Melanie’s voice in those dreams... and Cassey’s laughter...” He paused to control his emotions. “I think that’s why I’ve tried to block out the memories and why I avoid talking about them. Hoping it would lessen the pain of losing them again and again.”
“Has it?”
He let out a heavy sigh. “No. I don’t have the dreams as often as I used to, but when I do...”
“Do you have pictures of them on your phone?” Amy asked after a few moments. “Would you share them with me?”
Ben pulled out his phone and swiped through his pictures, showing them to Amy occasionally.
“This is a picture of her, first thing in the morning.” He angled the phone toward her. “She hated it when I took pictures of her without her hair and make-up done.”
Ben couldn’t hold back his smile. This was his favorite picture of Melanie. She’d taken a pregnancy test that turned out to be positive. She was so happy and beautiful in that moment.
He blinked back the tears that filled his eyes.
“She’s pretty without it, but as a woman whose hair needs taming in the morning, I completely understand.”
If Amy noticed he’d choked up again, she didn’t show it. Or maybe she chose to ignore it. Either way, he was grateful.
They looked at several more pictures of Melanie and Cassey. Ben was even in a few of them. He swiped sideways until the picture of Cassey in a puffy, pink snowsuit filled his screen. He’d framed this one and kept it on his desk at the garage. It helped him feel like he was close to her even though she was gone.
“You’ve seen this one. Taken that day.” He was about to exit his photo gallery, when Amy took the phone from his hand.
Her brow furrowed as she studied the picture.
Expecting her to give the phone right back, he held out his hand, then dropped it when she didn’t. Why was she so fascinated with this picture? It wasn’t the one that had been plastered everywhere for months after Cassey’s disappearance, but she seemed interested in it.
Confused but not wanting to appear rude by demanding his phone back, he busied himself cleaning up their lunch.
* * *
Amy’s chesttightened as goosebumps covered her arms. Her reaction to seeing this picture again was even stronger than last time. She’d seen this baby somewhere. She was sure of it.
This picture had occupied her thought so many times over the past month, but she simply couldn’t remember where she’d seen Ben’s daughter. She’d done numerous Internet searches on Cassey’s disappearance, reread all the articles, studied her picture. And every time, she came up blank.
She used to believe she’d been led to Providence for a reason, but now she wondered if it was all a fluke. If she was supposed to somehow find Cassie, then why couldn’t she remember where she’d seen this baby and the blue Suburban?
She grabbed Ben’s phone and studied the image, hoping to jog some long-forgotten memory.
Nothing came. She bit back a growl of frustration.
Ben started to clean up the mess from their lunch, but Amy couldn’t take her eyes off the image of Cassey. She tapped the photo and texted it to herself. Hopefully, Ben wouldn’t notice and wonder why she’d done it. He’d probably think her interest in his daughter was as creepy as she’d thought his fascination with Kallie was the first day they met.
She handed his phone back and helped him fold the blanket.
“Let me guess... you had déjà vu again?” He chuckled. “Oh wait, would this be déjà vu of your déjà vu?”
Amy forced a laugh. “Is that possible. She’s just so cute. She has the prettiest blue eyes.”
Ben’s movements stilled, and he stared at her.
