Free Identity Crisis by Eliza Daly

Bears?” She offered him the bag of candy.
    He smiled. “No thanks.”
    A few miles later, they encountered a K-mart and a Fleet Farm, signs of civilization. They passed a McDonald’s, and she wondered if the restaurant had been there when she was little and if she’d gone there for Happy Meals. Hopefully something familiar would spark a memory.
    Growing up, she’d suffered from two repeat nightmares. One with a woman standing on a porch crying, calling out Olivia’s name as she faded into a speck in the distance. Another where she was surrounded by total darkness, alone, cold, crying. Then bright lights exploded and sirens wailed. Muffled shouts in the distance grew closer and a rush of cold air swooshed in, along with a large man who scooped her up and took off running.
    Her dad had assured her the nightmares were the result of watching a scary movie. Had he known the source of them? In college, she’d seen a therapist and a hypnotist trying to make sense of them. Her therapist had warned her if she tried too hard to remember, she might fabricate false memories. For Olivia, false memories were better than no memories, but the nightmares had stopped before she’d graduated.
    A string of cottages that had been turned into quaint shops lined a main street. A lime green coffee shop with magenta shutters. A blue convenience store/bait shop with a huge fish mounted on the roof. Beemers, Mercedes, and flashy convertibles, many with Illinois license plates, filled the parking lots of restaurants and bars. She and Ethan would fit right in with their car they’d picked up in Chicago, and he’d peeled the car rental sticker from the bumper.
    A mama duck and her babies waddled across the road, and Ethan slammed on the brakes, thrusting a protective arm out in front of her, even though she had on a seat belt. She glanced over her shoulder at the carry-on bag on the backseat containing her dad’s urn, making sure it hadn’t landed on the floor. Even if she decided to honor her dad’s wish, she wasn’t emotionally ready to visit her mom’s real grave. Not yet. It would be too weird after twenty-two years of sharing memories with her “grave” back home.
    Ethan smiled faintly. “Dangerous place.”
    “Let’s hope not,” she said lightly, yet a foreboding feeling caused goose bumps on her arms. “No wonder my parents moved to Chicago. Not that I remember my mom, but I can’t imagine my dad growing up here. He liked the opera, symphony, and upscale restaurants. Yet, I guess the area reminds me of a town in the boonies where we rented a cabin every summer.” She stared out at several boat lights dotting the lake. “When I was thirteen, I took out a rowboat while my dad was napping. I fell out, trying to reel in a fish. I knew how to swim, but I panicked and almost drowned. My dad had warned me not to go in the water unsupervised, so I never told him about it. I never swam again. Once I graduated high school, he went to the cabin by himself.”
    “It’s hard for most witnesses to give up all their hobbies and interests, their total identity.”
    As if her dad hadn’t given up his life of crime? She had to be careful what she told Ethan. Although he’d assured her his priority was protecting her, once they’d caught this psycho, he’d undoubtedly pursue whether or not her dad had continued his life of crime. She was just another job to Ethan.
    Why did this bother her?
    Ethan gestured toward a sign that read
Pine Lake Inn & Cottages Next Right
. “We’re here.”
    He turned down a narrow road lined with cottages, mature maples, and pines. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. This was it. She slid her mom’s wedding band along the chain around her neck.
    “Pull over,” she said.
    “There’s barely a shoulder.”
    “I don’t care. Pull over.”
    He pulled over, stopping partly on the road.
    She stared straight ahead, shaking her head. “I don’t think I can do this.”
    “Sure you can. Let’s practice