Lost Memories (Sycamore P.D. Series Book 1) Read online

  Lost Memories

  T. E. Killian

  Copyright © 2013 by Trennis E. Killian

  Cover Design: Kailee Jodarski

  The print edition of this book may be obtained at: http://www.trenniskillian.com.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Novels by T. E. Killian

  The Sycamore P.D. Series

  Lost Memories

  Accepted Memories

  Resolved Memories

  The Crowley County Series

  No Easy Solution

  A Better Solution

  The Only Solution

  Another Solution

  The Clear Creek Series

  Ryan’s Ruin

  Chase’s Return

  Hunter’s Revenge

  Walking Together Series

  Walking Straight

  Walking Away

  Walking the Line

  www.tekillian.com.

  An uplifting Christian novel.

  The Sycamore P.D. Series

  Sarah Thompson married Air Force pilot Harry Newcomb and left her children, Grant and Alison with her sister, Sybil while they went on their honeymoon. Harry told her family that she had been killed in a car wreck in Europe while on their honeymoon.

  Now, twenty years later Sarah Thompson Newcomb is very much alive and suffering from amnesia for all that time. Her husband, Harry, is killed in Afghanistan and she comes back to Sycamore, AZ, to be with his family not knowing that she had any family of her own there. All of these people are thrown together by the mystery surrounding Harry’s death. How do they each deal with their own memories and with each other?

  Lost Memories – First in the Series

  Grant, a police detective has problems with his sergeant, solving two murders, and his growing attraction for Kelly.

  Kelly never knew her father, now Harry is dead, and she never will. She searches for meaning in her life. Having been partially crippled in a car collision at the age of twelve, she struggles to be a fully functioning executive. Then Grant comes into her life.

  Grant and Kelly each try to deal with all they have lost individually and then together.

  Prologue

  Grant Thompson was really mad. He didn’t think he’d ever been so mad in his whole life. He looked down at his seven year old sister. Alison’s blue eyes were big, framed by her long blond hair.

  “Grant, what are we going to do now?”

  Grant didn’t know what to do. Their mother was leaving. He swallowed hard and said, “Alison, you know Mom said she’d be back in two weeks. She’s just going away with that guy Harry, then she said she’d come back to get us.”

  “I don’t want her to leave.” Big tears ran down her cheeks.

  Grant wasn’t mad at Alison, and he tried not to take his anger out on her. He may be only two years older than her, but somehow he knew he was going to have to take care of her.

  “You’d better stop crying, I hear Mom coming.”

  Their mom came into the room that their Aunt Sybil had said would be Grant’s bedroom while he and his sister stayed there. Even as angry as he was at his mother for leaving them, he got that special feeling he got sometimes when he looked at her. She had long blond hair and blue eyes just like Alison. And when she smiled at him the way she was right then, he felt like he was really someone special just because she gave him that special smile.

  His mother reached out and tried to pull both of her children into a hug, but Grant pulled away enough that her hug was only a loose one. Grant tried not to let the hurt look his mother gave him bother him.

  Sarah Thompson Newcomb turned back to Alison and said, “Don’t cry Sweetie, I’ll only be gone for two weeks. Just think of the fun you and Grant will have staying here with Aunt Sybil. You know you always do.”

  Alison looked up and tried to smile while Sarah wiped the tears off her daughter’s cheeks with a tissue.

  “You know that I love both of you more than anything else in the whole wide world, don’t you?”

  Alison looked up at her and said, “Even more than Harry?”

  “Yes, dear, but I love you different than I do Harry. He’s my husband, now, and you’re my special little girl. I can love all three of you, just in different ways, okay?”

  Grant turned back toward her and said, “Then why are you leaving?”

  His mother tried to keep her smile, but it slipped a little. “Grant, you know we’ve talked about this over and over. Harry and I want to have a little time together before we all move to Germany.” She turned back to Alison. “It’s not like you’ll never see me again. The next two weeks will go by so fast that it’ll seem like tomorrow when we’re all together again.”

  * * *

  Almost two weeks later, Grant was pushing Alison in the swing set that Aunt Sybil had bought for her backyard years before so they had it to play on when they visited. He was getting tired, but Alison kept asking for more and higher. That was when he heard his aunt cry out.

  “No! It can’t be. I would have known.”

  Grant stopped pushing Alison’s swing and looked toward the house. Sybil stepped out onto the patio and just stood there with her arms at her side and a piece of paper in her left hand.

  Grant helped Alison out of the swing and together they walked toward Sybil. He could tell that she was crying now, and her whole body seemed to be shaking. He didn’t know what to do.

  Sybil dropped heavily into a sofa sized patio chair and held the piece of paper up to her eyes. She dropped her arm on the table next to her chair.

  Finally, Sybil looked at him and his sister.

  “He says she’s gone!”

  Grant wanted to know who was gone, but he didn’t want to upset his aunt any more than she already was. He looked down at Alison and saw that she was beginning to sniffle too even though she didn’t know why Sybil was crying.

  Grant reached out and placed his hand on Sybil’s shoulder. She looked up at him and tried to stop her crying. She pulled some tissue from a pocket and wiped her eyes, then blew her nose.

  “Grant! Alison! I want you both to sit down here, right next to me.” She scooted to the center of the chair.

  They obeyed and Alison sat on her left and Grant on her right.

  She looked at Grant then down at Alison. “Harry sent us a telegram. He said that they were in a terrible car accident.” She sniffled so hard she almost choked then continued. “He said that your mother died from her injuries.”

  * * *

  That evening, after they had all had time to absorb the news, Sybil sat the children around the kitchen table to talk.

  “Grant, Alison, your home is here now. We will all three be a family now. No one will ever separate us.”

  Alison looked at Sybil, “Does that mean that the room I’ve been sleeping in will be my very own bedroom now?”

  Sybil attempted a smile, “Yes, dear, it will be your very own special bedroom. You can decorate it any way you want to.”

  Grant didn’t quite understand all that was going on, but he knew that he understood it all better than Alison. She didn’t seem to realize that their mother was never coming back, no matter what she had told them before she left.

  That anger began to build up in him again. He went outside and picked up h
is baseball bat and began hitting the swing set with it. Sybil stopped him quickly and he ran into the house and into his bedroom closing the door behind him.

  Thankfully, Sybil left him alone that night. But she didn’t for very long. After that, he took it upon himself to be the man of the house and watch out for both Alison and Sybil. He thought he became quite good at it too.

  Chapter One

  Twenty years later. . . .

  Grant Thompson leaned back in the driver’s seat of his unmarked car and watched as his partner, Stan Becker, answered his cell phone. Grant could tell it was their sergeant and that Stan was getting more upset as the conversation continued. The expression on Stan’s face clearly showed that what the sergeant was saying wasn’t good.

  When he turned off the phone, Stan looked over at Grant and said, “She wants us to stop everything we’re doing and get in her office immediately.” He said the last word with such vehemence that Grant was shocked that Stan would show such emotion.

  Grant didn’t say anything as he turned the car toward the station. Stan finally said, “Well, I don’t think she’s going to let us do that stakeout tonight. The way she sounded, we’ll be doing good just to keep our badges.”

  Fifteen minutes later Grant knocked on Sergeant Nordstrom’s office door and opened it when she shouted out. He followed Stan into the small room. When she didn’t motion for them to take a seat, they were forced to stand facing her desk.

  She was standing too, and Grant looked her in the eye, which wasn’t difficult since she was at least as tall as him. She was one of those fair Swedes, with a pale complexion and long almost white blond hair which was now twisted into a knot on the back of her head. Right now, her face was almost red with anger.

  Sonia Nordstrom wasted no time getting started. “You two have stirred up a hornet’s nest over this so-called burglary suspect you’ve been chasing around town.”

  She paused and glared at each in turn as if she were hoping one of them would make the mistake of speaking just then.

  “Well, you have succeeded in badgering the poor man until he complained to his lawyer, who complained to a councilmember, who complained to the mayor who complained to the chief, who of course then questioned my ability to control my detectives.” She almost spit out the word ‘my’ each time.

  She stopped to glare at them again. “Did both of you follow that rather convoluted series of events which led to the three of us right now, in my office, to have this pleasant little chat.” Again she seemed to want them to know how much of an inconvenience it was for her.

  When neither detective took the bait and spoke too soon, she continued. “As of right now, both of you are to stop all activity surrounding one Carlos Sanchez, period. You are not to have any contact with him. You are not to talk to him. You are not to approach him in any way. You are not to tail him, stake him out, or otherwise watch him, his vehicle, or his residence in any way. Do I make myself clear?”

  Now, both men nodded and knowing now was the time to speak, said in unison, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “There will be a notation made in each or your files regarding this incident, as per the chief’s direct order.” She paused, and her face almost gentled to its normally smooth attractive complexion. “You’re both lucky to keep your badges or at least not be suspended.” She motioned toward the door and said, “Get back to work.”

  As they were walking out the door, Stan said, “I guess this means we won’t be getting a subpoena to search the guy’s house.”

  A loud noise like that of a large book hitting the desk ushered them the rest of the way into the squad room. They went over to their adjoining desks and sat down.

  Stan placed both elbows on his desk blotter and dropped his head into his hands. Only a grunt came from his direction. Grant knew Stan as well as anyone could. After all, they’d been best friends since Stan came to live with his grandparents two doors from Sybil’s house when they were both ten. Coming from a man who seldom showed his emotions and almost never expressed them, Grant knew that grunt was as much of a show of temper as would ever come from Stan.

  Grant looked at his partner. Stan’s dark blond hair was almost hanging in his eyes, but as a detective, he could get away with it where other officers would not be able to.

  Grant folded his arms across his chest, swiveled his chair toward Stan and said, “What does she expect us to do? If we can’t tail this guy or stake out his apartment, how does she expect us to catch him in the act?”

  When Stan didn’t respond, Grant dropped his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I feel it right here.” He slammed his fist into his flat stomach. “He’s going to hit some place up in The Heights tonight.”

  Stan lifted his head to turn toward Grant. “She said that Sanchez’s lawyer started all this.” He put his head back down and the rest of what he said was partially muffled. “I’m wondering what a supposedly squeaky clean, model citizen such as Sanchez is doing with a lawyer.”

  “I know what you mean.” Grant hit his desk with his fist causing his phone to bounce. “That’s just perfect. It’s getting to where a cop can’t even do his job anymore without checking with every lawyer, judge, councilmember, and even the mayor, not to mention the chief and Sonia, to make sure we’re not violating someone’s rights.”

  Stan shook his head and looked over at Grant. “I just know it all goes back to the two of you being the finalists for detective sergeant. She’s still gloating over the fact that she was picked and you weren’t. Not only that, but I’m sure she’s going to do whatever she can to make sure she looks good and you look bad, so she can prove to the brass that they made the right decision.”

  Grant turned his chair around and leaned back against his desk. He fought against the anger that was quickly trying to take control of his emotions again. There’d been too much of that lately. He wanted desperately to catch this guy in the act. They’d been following his trail of burglaries for several months now, and Grant was sure they could catch him if they could just make him sweat a little more, cause him to finally make a mistake.

  Suddenly, an overwhelming feeling of frustration came over him. It was almost like he’d stepped out of his body and taken a hard look at himself right then. Did he see what he’d swore he’d never become, a cynical cop? Wasn’t a certain amount of cynicism okay? After all, he’d been a cop for seven years now. Didn’t that give him reason enough to become just a little bit cynical?

  Stan leaped out of his chair and grabbed the backpack that he carried all his working files and other necessities in, and said, “Well, if we can’t do anything else today, I’m going home and cuddle up to a six-pack.”

  Grant nodded his agreement, and they both began making their way out of the station.

  When Grant got to his car, he didn’t know what to do. He was so tired that all he wanted to do was to go home and crash. But he knew that was the very reason why he shouldn’t go home. Sybil! That’s where he’d go. His aunt always cheered him up and made him feel better, no matter what was going on in his life.

  * * *

  Kelly Newcomb leaned back in her desk chair and stretched just as her phone rang. She looked at the screen on her phone and smiled when she realized it was her grandfather’s secretary on the intercom.

  She picked up the phone and said, “Hi, Martha, what can I do for you?”

  “He wants to see you and Wayne right now, and I do mean right now. He said to drop everything and get here immediately.”

  Martha’s agitated voice made Kelly’s thoughts jump all over the place, mostly centered on the welfare of her grandfather or even her grandmother.

  “What is it Martha?”

  “I don’t know. Please, just come quickly. I haven’t seen him this agitated in quite some time.”

  Kelly pulled her long black hair out of her face where it had fallen when she had dropped her head at Martha’s tone. She pulled her purse out of a desk drawer and raced out the door, thinking she might have to leave
the building without having time to come back for it.

  When she turned down the corridor leading to the CEO’s office, her brother, Wayne, fell in beside her. Kelly had always loved walking beside her older brother. He had always been there for her whenever she needed him. He tried to grin at her as they went through the outer office door together.

  Martha simply pointed at the open door to their grandfather’s office, and they both rushed in.

  Harold W. Newcomb I was sitting on a sofa in his conversation pit, as he called it. It was an area to the side of his desk with four sofas arranged in a square facing each other with a low, square table in the middle.

  Kelly let out the breath she’d been holding. At first glance, her beloved grandfather looked okay to her. She caught herself. Here at the office, she had to call her grandfather Harold. It had taken her quite a while to get used to doing so.

  “Sit down please.”

  Harold gestured toward the sofa across from the one where he was sitting.

  Before either could inquire, he took in Kelly’s panicked look and said, “I’m fine, there’s nothing wrong with me.” When Kelly opened her mouth to speak, he said, “And your grandmother is fine too.”

  Kelly deflated into the cushions of the sofa as she let out another deep breath with an audible sigh.

  She then watched Harold as he looked from one to the other of his grandchildren then dumped on them. “An Air Force general, by the name of Winstanley, called a few minutes ago.”

  Both Kelly and Wayne leaned forward as one and opened their mouths to speak. Harold held up both hands, and they leaned back without saying a word.