Ruthless Regret (Ruthless Games Duology #2)

Chapter 41

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

ZAIN

I stand up, unable to sit still, and pace with my cell phone pressed to my ear, while I wait for my mom to pick up. Ashley’s words keep echoing in my head.

Someone else was there.

Could this be the breakthrough I need? It opens up a whole new set of questions, though.

Who was the other person? Why didn’t she remember them before, and more importantly, how do we unlock the rest of her memories?

Ashley is perched on the edge of the couch, eyes on me, watching as I pace back and forth across the room.

“Maybe she’s not home?” Her voice is hesitant.

“She’s home. She’ll?—”

“Zain?” My mom picks up finally. “Is everything okay?”

“I need your professional opinion on something.” I don’t bother with pleasantries. “It’s about accessing repressed memories.”

There’s a short pause before she replies, and when she does her voice is careful. “Is this about Ashley?”

“Yeah.” I take a deep breath. “She remembered something new. Someone else was there the night Jason and Louisa were killed. But there are still gaps. I need to know if there’s a way to bring those memories out.”

“I thought Ashley went back to New York?”

“She did.” I glance over at her. “But she agreed to come back.”

“I see.”

“Mom, this is important.”

“Repressed memories are a complicated subject.” Her voice turns brisk. “There’s no guaranteed or confirmed way to access them. Trying to force it can sometimes do more harm than good.”

“But there’s a way to try? What about hypnosis?”

“Hypnosis is risky. It can actually cause more false memories. Zain, you have to understand that the mind can be incredibly suggestible under hypnosis, and if you’re the right kind of person, the hypnotist can inadvertently, or purposely, plant ideas or memories that weren’t there before.”

Her message is clear. We can’t risk adding more false memories.

“Then what can we do? We can’t just sit around and wait for her to maybe remember something.”

“I know you want answers, but please be careful. Ashley’s memories have already proven unreliable once. Don’t stake everything on them now.”

“Right now, there is nothing else.”

“I know it isn’t fair, Zain. After everything you’ve been through … you deserve answers. But pushing for them the wrong way could lead you down a path to disappointment. I don’t want you to risk that.”

I can’t just let it go. I need to know what really happened that night. I need to know why my best friends were murdered. I can’t move on without understanding why it happened.

I take a deep breath, then change tack slightly. “That guy you mentioned. The one who came around asking questions after my arrest …”

“What about him?”

“Do you remember anything else? Anything at all that might help identify who he was?”

She pauses, and I guess she’s thinking about my questions. “He seemed professional. Like he knew what he was doing, and had every right to ask me questions. But he wasn’t part of the police force. I’m sure of that.”

“And he never explained why he was asking questions?”

“No, not really. Just that he was looking into the case. Like I said, I assumed he was a journalist or maybe a private investigator.”

“Anything else? What he looked like, what he was wearing?”

"I'm sorry, honey. It was so long ago, and I was ... Well, I was focused on other things at the time."

“Alright. Thanks.”

“Please be careful. Whatever you’re doing, don’t let it consume you. You’re free now. But you’re still acting like you’re a prisoner.”

She means well, I know that, so I bite back the urge to snap at her. Instead, I end the call, and toss my cell onto the armchair. Turning, I look at Ashley.

She’s been quiet throughout the conversation, perched on the edge of the couch.

“What did she say?”

I shake my head. “It’s not as simple as we hoped it would be. Accessing repressed memories isn’t straightforward, and there are risks involved.”

“What kind of risks?”

“False memories for one. Apparently, trying to force memories to surface has the potential to create new ones.”

She frowns as she digests my words. “Where does that leave us?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I want to watch the interviews again.”

My gaze snaps up to meet hers. “You want to do what ?”

Her throat moves as she swallows. “When I watched them … when you forced me to watch them, I still very much believed you killed my brother. I was in a panic over being in the room where he died. I want to watch them again, now that my head is clearer.”

Her tone is so matter of fact as she talks about how I forced her to spend the night in the room where her brother was murdered.

Fuck.

I should apologize for what I did to her, but I can’t. I did what I thought I had to do. What I thought was the right thing to do. I can’t change it.

“Maybe it’ll help knock the memories loose.”

I can’t argue with her reasoning, so I don’t even bother trying. She’s right, and really it’s the only thing we’ve got right now.

“The laptop is in the kitchen.”

She gets to her feet, and we walk through to the kitchen in silence. I set up the laptop, tap around until I find the interviews, and then look at her.

“Are you sure about this?”

She nods, and takes the seat in front of the screen. “I think it’s important. I didn’t want to see it when you last showed me.” Her head turns, and she gives me a shaky smile. “I don’t think you were in the right state of mind to take in most of what was said either. So, why don’t you watch them as well?”

She’s not wrong. I was angry, I still am angry. But it’s not the same now. Then, I was angry with her , and I only paid attention to the parts that justified my anger. Now? Now, I know there’s more to the story.

I drag out another chair and sit beside her.

“Okay. Let’s see what we can find.”