Page 2 of Pressure Point (Lantern Beach Blackout: Detonation #2)

CHAPTER

TWO

Why can’t I remember? I must have been in water somewhere. My clothes are soaking wet.

As she and the stranger continued down the road and away from the woods, she attempted to control the panic that tried to claim her muscles, that tried to set her mind spinning.

Panicking would do her no good right now.

The dampness of her tank and shorts was becoming more uncomfortable as the adrenaline began to fade. The fabric felt heavy against her skin, and she smelled something in the fibers—seawater maybe?

She licked her lips. The salty taste remained.

But also something else. Something chemical she couldn’t identify.

Her feet were bare and coated with sand.

Sand? Had she been on a beach? How close was the beach anyway?

“Your head.” The man nodded toward her temple. “You’re bleeding.”

She reached up and touched the spot he’d indicated, wincing when her fingers found a tender, swollen area seeping blood. She hadn’t even realized she was injured.

She supposed that explained the headache.

She put the visor down and glanced in the small mirror.

She gasped at the unfamiliar face that stared back. Dark, wild hair. Frightened blue eyes. Dried blood at her temple. Dried sand on her cheeks.

What had happened to her?

“I’m Atlas, by the way.” The man’s tone turned gentler. “Atlas Manning. And you’re safe now, okay? I’m going to help you figure this out.”

“Atlas.” She tested the name, finding something solid and reassuring about it. “Thank you. I’m . . .”

She hesitated. Her mind was blank.

“I—I don’t know what my name is.” Terror filled her at the realization. How could she not remember her name? Her past? Anything about herself other than the terror she felt?

“That’s okay,” Atlas reassured her. “We’ll figure it out together.”

The kindness in his voice almost brought tears to her eyes. She had no reason to trust this stranger, no memories to guide her judgment.

But something about Atlas made her feel safe in a situation that had suddenly become distressingly uncertain.

As they drove down the road, she tried to piece together the fragments of sensation that were all she had left.

Running. Fear. The sound of pursuit behind me.

And before that . . .

Water. I was in water.

But try as she might, she couldn’t remember how she got there or why. All she knew was that something terrible had happened, something that had left her with no memories and a head wound that suggested violence.

And somewhere behind them, in the green shadows of the forest, she felt certain someone was still hunting her.

Someone who most likely wouldn’t give up.

The Lantern Beach Medical Clinic smelled like antiseptic and sea salt—a combination that always reminded Atlas of field hospitals in places he’d rather forget.

But the facilities fit the island vibe.

Nestled off the coast of North Carolina, Lantern Beach was a slender barrier island accessible only by ferry.

Its isolation was part of its enduring charm.

The narrow strip of land, barely twelve miles long and two miles across at its widest point, sat embraced by the vast Atlantic on one side and the sheltered waters of the Pamlico Sound on the other.

Originally established as a humble fishing community in the late 1800s, the island had remained relatively undiscovered until tourists began arriving in the 1970s, forever altering its character while somehow preserving its soul.

Life on Lantern Beach moved according to nature’s rhythms rather than the insistent pace of the mainland.

Locals collected their mail from PO boxes rather than home delivery.

They exchanged news at the local market, and they conducted business with a relaxed efficiency that frustrated newcomers but defined the island’s character.

Sandy lanes and gravel roads connected the scattered community of vacation cottages and year-round homes, where the boundary between past and present seemed as fluid as the tides themselves, and serious crime had been unknown for thirty years . . . until the past several years.

Atlas watched as Dr. Autumn Spenser cleaned and bandaged the head wound of the woman he’d brought in. A moment later, she pronounced the damage superficial but concerning, given the apparent memory loss.

“Mild concussion, most likely,” Dr. Spenser explained to her patient. “But the amnesia could be psychological as much as physical. Sometimes the mind protects itself from trauma by forgetting.”

“I see.” The woman nodded, her expression still pinched and pensive.

“The good news is that you’re not dehydrated. Other than your head injury and some cuts and bruises, you seem healthy. We ran a tox screen just to make sure you weren’t given anything to cause the memory loss. We’re still waiting for those results.”

“Thank . . . thank you. I appreciate your thoroughness.”

Atlas stood near the window, trying not to be intrusive as the afternoon sun slanted through the blinds. Yet he wanted more than anything to know this woman’s story, and she’d invited him to stay.

He knew there were tests to prove whether or not her amnesia was real. But he had no reason to think it wasn’t. This woman’s fear seemed authentic.

A knock sounded at the door, and Police Chief Cassidy Chambers stepped inside and introduced herself.

As Dr. Spenser stepped back, Cassidy began asking the woman questions about what had happened.

“I’m sorry.” Frustration rose in the woman’s voice every time she couldn’t answer a question. “I wish I could tell you more, but it’s all just . . . blank.”

Cassidy stepped closer, her blonde hair catching the light. “Not even fragments? Sometimes people remember sensations before they remember facts. The smell of fuel, the sound of an engine, feeling scared or cold. Does any of that seem familiar?”

The woman picked at the edge of the blanket draped over her legs. She frowned, her brow furrowed. “There’s something. But it doesn’t make sense.”

“Anything could help,” Cassidy said.

“I remember rain, and the feeling of being rocked back and forth. But also . . .” She hesitated, glancing at Atlas. “Voices. Angry voices. And the feeling that I needed to run.”

Cassidy and Atlas exchanged glances.

This woman hadn’t just survived a storm.

He felt certain foul play was also involved.