Brett took Paige back to the station so he could get the file that had her security firm’s phone number. He spoke to Jacob, explaining the situation. But Jacob wanted to talk to Paige, to hear from her that she was alright. This assured Brett that her security team was doing their job correctly, even though he would’ve preferred if the man had been discreetly tailing Paige rather than letting her go completely alone.

“Jacob, it was just some kids. An unfortunate occurrence. If they had done it to anyone else but me, it probably would’ve been funny all around. I blew it out of proportion.” Brett overheard her assure the other man. “Like you said, I’m not in real danger.”

Brett stacked the files on his desk —no need for her to see the gruesome pictures some of them held— while she finished her conversation.

“No, I don’t need to say it.” She actually rolled her eyes. “I’m sure. Detective Wagner is going to give me a ride home later, so I’ll see you tomorrow or whenever you’re back on shift. Yes, I’m positive.” Eyes rolled again. “Bye.”

“Everything okay?” he asked her.

“This is all kind of new for me, so for the security team too.”

“What, calling from a police station?”

“That, but everything else too. Me being out on my own. Me getting a ride with someone else. Me telling them I’ll be late.” She shrugged a delicate shoulder.

“You guys have an emergency word or phrase, right? That’s what Jacob was double checking on?”

She looked surprised. “How did you know?”

He put the files in a neat pile near his keyboard. “I checked out the firm you use. They’re one of the best around here. In a situation like yours, having an emergency phrase to communicate that you’re in trouble but can’t say it out loud is good practice.”

“I brought an apple with me for lunch.”

“That’s your phrase?”

“Yeah. It’s easy for me to remember. Not that I’ve ever had cause to use it. But the security guys and I agreed that if I ever start talking about apples with them, they should know I’m in trouble.”

It was as good as any, since she probably didn’t have cause to talk to her security team about fruit very often.

He hated that she needed a security team at all.

“You ready to face Little T’s?”

Her eyes all but lit up. “Bring it. I can’t believe how long it has been since I’ve had one.”

He could see her process her own words. Her eyes lost their sparkle and she looked down.

“Hey,” He hooked a finger under her chin to lift her face back up. “You’re getting one today. That’s what counts. You can get one tomorrow too, if you want. And any day after that if you choose.”

“But I might be too scared to come out of my house tomorrow.”

He brought his face closer to hers and shrugged, smiling. “Then you see if they do carryout and I’ll come get it for you.”

“I just feel stupid.”

“You don’t have to do all the hard things at once. You took a step today. You can take another tomorrow or next week or whenever you want to. Your timetable. No one else’s.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Well right now my timetable says grilled cheese.”

He helped her into her jacket. “Lead the way.”

* * *

Brett was pretty close to those orgasmic moans she’d threatened to leave him for an hour later at Little T’s main restaurant, that they’d decided to go to rather than the food truck. They were sitting next to each other in a small rounded booth in the back corner.

“This is just as good as I remember,” he said. “I used to meet dad at the food trucks for lunch sometimes. He always wanted to try new ones, but whenever I could, I talked him into Little T’s.”

“He worked for the police too, right? Is that why you went into law enforcement?”

“He was the captain here. And honestly, I had no plans to follow in his footsteps, but found myself majoring in criminal justice, then joined the Dade County PD after college.”

“Did you like it in Florida?”

“Yeah, it’s so very different from here. The way you appreciate sunshine, you’d probably love it.

Paige smiled. “Of course Portlanders appreciate sun because of its often conspicuous absence. Were you happy to come back here?”

“I was. Florida was just my escape after my parents and sisters died. I liked it, but it was never home.”

They talked for a long time. About his life in Florida, and even his divorce. She’d told him a little about her life as an artist, her relatively positive upbringing in the foster system and her sisters. Brett paid for their meal and since neither of them was ready to end their conversation or time together they decided to walk.

“Triplets, huh?”

“Yeah, Adrienne’s my older sister, by seven minutes. She lives in San Francisco with her husband Conner, and they’re expecting a baby. They’re both kind of in law enforcement too.”

“State or federal?”

“Conner is FBI. Adrienne has worked with the Bureau, kind of as a consultant for a long time now, ten years off and on.”

“Wow, that would’ve made her a little young when she started.”

“Yeah, not quite eighteen.”

It wasn’t unheard of, but still unusual for the FBI to use a teenager as a consultant. “What does she do for them? It must be a pretty unique skill set.” Maybe she had creative skills like Paige. A forensic artist.

“She’s sort of a… profiler, I guess is the best word for it. She’s really good at it.”

“What about your other sister? Where is she?”

“Chloe?” Paige rolled her eyes and chuckled at the same time, equal measures of love and exasperation clear in her tone. “She’s currently living in North Carolina. She’s a writer and the creative director for Day’s End — a television show that’s filming out there.”

That wasn’t just a television show. That was a hugely popular television show about zombies, vampires and all sorts of other apocalyptic stuff.

“Wow, that’s a pretty big deal.”

She smiled again. “Yeah, Chloe is super creative.”

“And she’s the youngest?”

“Yep, by seven minutes again. She’s the wildest of the three of us. Fun, lots of spunk.”

“Do you get to see her very often?”

“Not as much as I would like. When she lived in California I saw her more, but North Carolina is a little further out of my stomping grounds.”

“So you’re pretty much out here on your own.”

She shrugged. “No more than anybody else. But they were there when I needed them to be.”

“You mean after the attack?”

He could see her stiffen but she didn’t withdraw into herself.

“Yeah, they came immediately. Stayed with me for weeks. I felt kind of bad because Adrienne and Conner were newlyweds at the time.”

She seemed to be wandering, a little lost, so he directed them over to an empty bench. “Did it help having them here?”

“As much as anything could. I was completely out of it for the first couple of weeks, on so much pain medication and the swelling in my face made me almost unrecognizable. I don’t know what I would’ve done without them after that.”

“Did you ever try to talk to them? Go over details?” He didn’t want to bring this back up, but now that he feared they were dealing with a serial killer, her remembering his face could mean the difference between life and death.

“Believe me, I tried with everyone. Adrienne and Conner were so patient. Worked with me every time I asked them to. I should’ve been able to see my attacker’s face. There is no way he could’ve hit me the way he did without me seeing him.”

“That’s not necessarily true.”

“I could’ve been knocked unconscious with the first blow? And the rest done while I was out? Yes, but I know I wasn’t unconscious.” He could feel her small frame tighten. Her voice was hoarse as she continued. “Not at first. Not for a while. I felt every blow.”

The thought made Brett sick, but he held firm to his resolve to keep her talking. “Do you think, or the doctors, that it was head trauma that cause you not to be able to picture him clearly?”

“’Head trauma is a delicate thing’ - that’s a direct quote from the neuro-specialist. She said that I may never fully remember, or even partially remember, what happened that day.”

“It sounds like there’s a but in there somewhere.”

She looked over one shoulder at him. “But she also said that I didn’t necessarily have wounds that should affect my memory.”

He shrugged. “It happens. The brain protects itself.”

She seemed to switch topics. “You saw all my paintings last night at the exhibit. Saw all the colors. My paintings are based on colors of people I choose to paint. Their auras. Different shades and hues based on their thoughts and emotions and intents towards others.”

“So when you’re painting people you see colors.”

“Actually, I see the colors around people all the time, whether I’m painting them or not. It’s one of the reason I don’t necessarily like to be around people a lot of the time. It can be pretty overwhelming.”

Brett wiped a hand along his face. He had no idea what to do with this information. He guessed it was possible. Paige was an artist, in tune with colors and stuff. Maybe that part of her senses —if you could call seeing auras around people senses for God’s sake— were just more developed. Not unlike his skills in detective work. He had certain senses that were more well-developed than the average person. Even had a sixth sense about criminals a lot of the time. Could he really explain that? No.

But auras?

Her features were tight as she sat next to him. She had slid her leg back down on the bench and was now holding her midsection. Almost as if to protect herself from a blow, at least the emotional one she figured was about to come from him.

“Most of the paintings you saw last night were of children. I love their colors most of all. Usually so bright and clear. Adults’ colors are more muddled; more complicated.”

He studied her for a long time. “Has painting always been this way for you? The auras.”

She nodded. “For as long as I can remember.”

“Those paintings you left for me at my house in high school. The ones of my sisters. Were they…?”

Paige nodded giving him a sad smile. “Yes. Lydia and Audrey were my friends, only a year younger than me. They were always so animated and affectionate. They talked to me at school all the time even though I was painfully shy. Their auras were so vibrant. I wanted to make sure they wouldn’t be forgotten.”

Brett grabbed her hand. “Thank you. For painting them. I never knew why those paintings reminded of my sisters, I just knew they did.”

“I’m glad. When Mr. Ragno saw the paintings in class before I gave them to you, he encouraged me to keep working with that style. So those paintings are what started my career.”

Brett sat back trying to take it all in. Auras. People having colors. He could accept it. But he wanted to get back to where this conversation had started.

“Okay,” he said. “It’s a little strange for me, but okay. But what does that have to do with you not being able to remember your attacker?”

Her arms wrapped more tightly around her middle and insecurity washed off of her in waves. “I can’t remember him because I don’t think I ever saw him. His aura was so black it blocked out all his features to me. All I could see was darkness.”