Chapter Thirty

Maddie

 

I rolled towards Isaac in the bed, but he was gone. The sheets were messed up where he’d been sleeping, and his pillow was folded in half. I wiped my eyes, stretched, and got out of bed. The hotel room was small and had only one bathroom, which was empty. I figured he must’ve left to get coffee, or maybe he was strolling around the lobby just to stretch his legs. Since the flight wasn’t scheduled for this morning, I figured I might as well get a shower so we could start our day.

My thoughts were leaning towards going back to Miami, postponing the Portland trip for another time, maybe after my memory returned and I could figure out what was scaring me so bad about returning to what I once called home.

The small carry-on bag that Isaac packed was on the chair, unzipped, and I could see my makeup bag shoved in the bottom. I reached inside and pulled the small floral bag out, accidentally dumping the entire bag onto the floor. As I picked it up, scooping up the contents of Isaac’s personal belongings and shoving them back inside, a small black phone caught my eye. I knew it wasn’t Isaac’s; his was almost as large as a small tablet. This was thin, petite, and had a rose-colored case on the back. It was more like a phone that a woman would carry, not a man.

I held the button on the side until it turned on. The background was a large sun, bright yellow, and strangely familiar. Is this my phone? Why does he have it? Why hasn’t he given it to me?

It buzzed in my hand, alerting me there were unread messages or unanswered calls. I slid my finger across the messages icon and sat on the edge of the bed. Dozens upon dozens of texts were sent from someone named Rob. My eyes widened as I read them, mostly asking where I was by name, begging me to call, to answer my phone, and asking just to hear my voice so he knew I was safe. Who was this man? Why did he care if I was safe?

I opened the voicemails, listened to the frantic voice begging for me to call, to answer, and then the same voice as it turned angry and irritated, threatening whoever had my phone that he would find them, find me. I knew that voice, but I still didn’t know how or why.

All of the texts and calls were from the same man. I scrolled back up through them, reading and re-reading them until I noticed one that looked as if I’d sent it. My eyes scanned the text knowing I hadn’t sent it, so who did?

I hit the call button, held the phone to my ear, and listened as it rang. “Maddie!” the voice called out on the other end of the phone with a panicked excitement.

“Who is this?” I asked.

“Maddie, it's Rob, your fiancé,” the familiar voice claimed.

“No. That’s not possible. Isaac is my fiancé,” I explained, not doing well to convince myself, let alone the panicked man on the other end of the phone.

“Where are you? Has someone hurt you?” he gasped.

“No. I was in an accident. How do you know me?” I asked, hoping for a new answer.

“I told you, I’m your fiancé. What kind of accident? Are you okay?” he asked.

I didn’t speak as I tried to make sense of this conversation, this ridiculous claim from the man on the other end of the phone. “Maddie, where are you, and are you okay?” the man asked again.

“I’m in Boise. I’m okay, just confused,” I explained.

“I’ve been looking for you for weeks. I knew you wouldn’t just disappear like that, without a trace,” the man ranted.

“I didn’t disappear. I was in Miami, and I got hit by a car. My memory is gone, mostly, some, I mean. I’m getting it back a little,” I rambled.

“Your memory?” the man sighed and then paused. I could hear him swallow, and his breathing became rapid as he held on to the phone.

“I think you’re in danger. You need to get out of there, call the cops if you have to, but get out,” he ordered.

“I’m not in any danger. I’m with Isaac, my fiancé,” I protested.

“Get away from him,” the man’s voice turned loud and irritated. The familiarity of the tone was strong, and suddenly my gut told me this was the man I knew, he was the one from my dreams. Tears began streaming down my face as my hands shook. Why was this happening, and who was this? Was he telling me the truth, and Isaac was really lying to me?

“Maddie. Please, if you can get away, run. I’ll get you home to me,” he said softly.

“He’ll probably be back any minute,” I sobbed.

“Then please leave while you can. Call the cops,” he insisted.

“I don’t want to call the cops. Isaac knows me, he has proof, he showed me pictures of when we were kids,” I explained.

“I’m begging you, Maddie, get out of there,” the man pleaded.

“I don’t have much money, or even an ID; he has it,” I groaned.

“Get a cab, take it to the bus station. You don’t need ID for a ticket. Call me when you get there, and I’ll pay for your ticket,” he pleaded.

“Okay,” I sighed, hanging up the phone.

I was in a panic. Who was telling me the truth: this guy, or Isaac? My pictures in my phone showed me and the dark-haired man from my dream, tons of them. We looked happy, and in one I noticed the ring I wore on my finger. Oh, my God, I have to get out of here. Isaac truly wasn’t who he said he was.

I grabbed my suitcase and rushed from the room. The man at the front desk called me a cab, and I asked him to please not tell the man I was with where I’d gone. He looked confused but agreed. I waited for the cab in the back parking lot of the hotel where I told him I’d be waiting.

My heart raced. This can’t be real, can it?

A yellow cab pulled up, and I quickly got into the backseat. I had no idea where a bus station was, or if there even was one. I just needed out of there. “Is there a bus station nearby?” I asked the cabby.

He nodded and pulled out of the hotel parking lot, leaving Isaac and any thoughts of a life with him behind.

I stared out the window as we drove down the road, almost certain I saw Isaac carrying a bag walking down the street. Tears flowed from my eyes, and my heart ached. He made me love him, whoever he was.

We pulled into the bus station lot. My hands shook as I dialed Rob’s number again. He answered quickly, his voice filled with anxiety. “Are you at the bus station?” he asked frantically.

“I’m here,” I admitted.

He had me hand the phone to the lady at the ticket counter so he could pay for my ticket with his credit card. She gave me an odd look, one of confusion and pity, but handed me the printed ticket and my phone.

“The bus leaves in twenty minutes,” he sighed with relief.

“How far away am I?” I asked, not really knowing where I was.

“The bus ride will be close to ten hours. You’ll be home tonight,” he assured me.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Why did you go to Miami?” he asked, his tone very different than before.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“We’ll discuss all that when you get home,” he said with a hint of frustration in his voice.

I agreed to call him once I got on the bus, and when I did, the conversation was short. He didn’t seem to be so frantic after he knew I was on my way back to Portland, and away from Isaac.

A little old lady sat beside me, showing me pictures of her grandkids. She was on her way to Portland to visit, meeting her most recent grandchild for the first time. She was sweet, but I wasn’t in the mood to chitchat, especially when she asked me why I was headed to Portland.

“Just going back home,” I replied, but had a sinking feeling in my chest that I really had no idea where home was, or what was waiting for me in Portland.