Imagining Amy

By Jenny Ren

Adam Thorne thought he had met the woman he had often hoped to find but, bemused by the brief rapture of her touch, had watched her walk away. The only consolation, if it could be called that, was her name, Amy, called out by one of the group she was with. All he has left is a vivid memory of a golden girl, who invades his waking thoughts and haunts his dreams.
Cursing his lost opportunity, he haunts the place they met but it is not until a group of terrorists blast the city apart, wrecking havoc on buildings and humanity with equal disregard, that he finds her, left for dead; a broken and bleeding remnant from the explosion, tossed carelessly aside by the displaced air. Although her pulse, so feeble that it's barely there and her fragile condition do not inspire confidence, Adam carries her to the paramedics, hopeful that she will survive. Refusing to believe that the smile embedded in his memory would be the only one he would ever receive, he returns to work, rejoining the forensics team in their search for answers.
In their determination to piece together the reason behind the attacks, it soon becomes apparent that Amy may be implicated. Not wanting to believe her anything but the laughing woman of his dreams, he rejects the idea, but as more evidence comes to light, he begins to wonder where his loyalty will lay; with the unknown woman he calls his own or the law he has sworn to defend.
Unable to ask the questions needing to be answered to resolve the issue, he examines her apartment, hoping for confirmation of her innocence or proof of her guilt. What he doesn’t expect to find are the cryptic comments left on her answering machine on the day of the explosion. By themselves they are disturbing but when he stumbles across her diary and reads the entry detailing her hurt and anger at the actions of her friend, along with a description of a man bearing a strong resemblance to the main terrorist suspect, they chill him to the bone.
Before he can act on the information, the disturbing discovery of her best friend; dead, strangled by persons unknown, followed by the bombing of her apartment, lead him to suspect the terrorists believe Amy to be dead and are removing incriminating evidence. While it eliminates her from the list of suspects, it does raise another question; just what does she know?
Amy, holding tenuously to life, cannot answer.
It is not until Amy's laptop is found that that particular question, and others, are answered but despite the fact that it provides them with the time and place of the next explosion, and enables them to apprehend some of the suspects, the ringleaders continue to avoid capture.
In a race against time, Adam will do his utmost to save the city and the woman who stole his heart with a saucily blown kiss, but the question remains, will it be enough?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jenny Ren
• Release date: Feb 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311676443

Jenny Ren

When I was young I was often told that I was a dreamer. As life got in the way, I developed multiple talents, including an inherent love of reading, fine art and musicals. These I learned from my cultured yet romantic mother. It was this background that gave me a love of history and romance.Seven years ago, driven by need, I started penning thoughts and dreams into stories. While I have always loved reading, from fact to fiction, murder to mystery, historical to suspense, sweet to erotic; in fact all genres; my lifelong love of anything romantic has enticed me to write light-hearted, happy ever after romances. My one regret is not finding the time (or courage) to do it earlier.Nowadays, I live in Australia with my long time lover/husband/friend and two large dogs. I have three grown up children that I have passed my love of reading onto and whether they will thank me for that, who knows. I am still a dreamer.

Book preview

Imagining Amy

JENNY REN

Published by Jenny Ren at Smashwords

Copyright 2016 Jenny Ren

© 2016 cover by jrDesign

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

2017 edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people, places or incidents is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Title and Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

About the Author

Sneak Preview

Connect with Me

Chapter 1

Amy...

From her vantage point Amy observed Emma's so called boyfriend, Peter, standing impatiently by the far kerb. He was gesticulating angrily at a man leaning against a car, but apart from thinking that like definitely attracted like; she gave them no more thought as she prepared to move on. She had only taken two steps however, when her attention was caught by another man approaching the pair. This one wore the uniform of a Parking Inspector and she smiled thinly, expecting the predicted confrontation to end with the Inspector the winner. What she didn’t expect was the soft crack that echoed eerily around her as the newcomer dropped to the ground, blood pooling beneath the misshapen head.

Stunned at the severity of the assault, she stopped; the bike beside her slipping from suddenly nerveless fingers, to hit the ground with a decided crunch. Before she realised, her eyes were drawn to the hypnotically spinning wheel and it was only as it started to lose momentum that she was able to look away. Unable to stop the shakes that trembled from one end of her body to the other, she stared across the road, sure that the attention of the men would now be focused on her but their heads were down as they hastily pushed the body under the car. Taking advantage of their preoccupation, she backed away, adrenaline surging through her body to sustain her flight. Her hands, icy cold yet clammy, clenched at her sides until the waste bin she had passed earlier, pressed solidly and comfortingly against her back. Her eyes stayed locked on the men, but her hands, unclenching, slid out to gauge the distance still to go. Relief sapped her body of its remaining strength as the fingers on her left hand curled around the jagged edge of a corner and without further hesitation, she edged unnoticed to the relative safety behind the bin.

Breathing heavily, she sagged against the unyielding support, wondering, with growing hysteria, what she should do.

Her gaze, blurred with tears, scanned the area around her hiding place but the only people in her vicinity appeared oblivious to the drama playing out across the street. She tried to shout a warning, but all she could manage was a soft whimper of distress.

Dismayed by her inability to scream, to be heard, she reached for her phone, hoping her voice would have returned by the time she got through to the police.

There was no bag hanging from her shoulder. She looked down, wondering if she had dropped it in her haste. Her eyes were still scanning her surrounds when she remembered. Her bag, complete with phone, was still strapped to the back of her bike and she wasn’t sure if she had enough courage to leave the safety of the concealing container to get it.

She really needed to attract someone’s attention. Regrettably, the couple nearby had already moved on. There were others though, exiting shops and businesses on the far side of the road but if they saw her, they gave no sign.

A larger group came into view, cameras swaying from necks and hands. They halted abruptly, one of them gesticulating excitedly in her direction. All cameras raised and she imagined the sound of them clicking, recording all they saw.

Elated, she waved her arms frantically and called out, but her words, croaking but loud, were whipped away by a passing motorbike and disappeared, unheard. Before she could call again, she realised it wasn’t to her that they looked, although some of the group had waved. The wide median where she stood was considered by many to be an oasis in the middle of the bustling city, a touch of green in the grey concrete jungle that surrounded it. As such, it had become more of a park than median, with abundant scented flowers and timber seats for the weary dotted throughout.

She wanted to hurl one of those seats at the ignorant crowd beyond. She wanted to jump up and down while smashing one into tiny pieces, but besides the fact that the seats were bolted down, she had the feeling that they would just smile and wave some more; perhaps take a few more pictures of the mad woman in the park. Instead, with a hiccupping sob, she leant back against the bin, brushing a hand impatiently across her eyes to wipe away the dampness that she couldn't prevent.

Her hand, slick with tears, slid comfortingly against the bin as she silently praised the tardiness of the City’s garbo’s. Normally, there was only a wheelie bin but, because of the weekend celebrations at Hyde Park, commercial bins, including the one she leant against, still dotted the nearby areas.

The blast of a horn rattled against the tin, startling her until she realised that the drumming in her ears was the throb of traffic as life carried on regardless. It was time to move, inform someone and the nearest help was the way she had been going.

Mentally bracing herself, she edged along the side of the container, hoping that when she peered around the corner, they would have gone. She stopped, realising almost too late that if spotted, her actions would imply that she had seen all. A shudder ran through her at the thought.

Deciding it would look less suspicious if she just appeared to be a normal commuter, she took a deep breath and allowed herself to relax, intent on giving the impression that she was just moving between places, blithely unaware of all around her.

She stepped out, veering across the road at an angle, knowing she couldn’t go near the abandoned bike. Appearing as if she had not a care in the world, she stared ahead but from the peripheral of her vision she saw them, noting that there were now three. She was nearly past, nearly out of the danger zone when she glimpsed the movement of Peter’s head and knew with a sinking surety that she had been seen. There was a shout but she disregarded it, as if lost in her thoughts.

The shout came again, this time with her name attached and she had no choice but to acknowledge the call. She pretended to be startled out of her reverie as she turned his way, then raised her hand in recognition as she prepared to move on. Subconsciously she was aware of one of them getting into the car and driving off but her attention had been arrested at the sight of the other man who had turned at Peter’s shout. They stared at each other across the road, the snakelike scar across his cheek writhing menacingly as he snarled his contempt. Emma’s words leapt into her mind, shrieking a warning but it was too late. He raised his arm but instead of a shaking fist there was a gun, pointing directly at her and for an inestimable part of a second, she was frozen in fear.

The world seemed to slow, allowing her to see the black hair below his knuckles stand out as his finger curled against the trigger. She raised her eyes, saw the sneer replaced with shock and anger as he was knocked off balance by a thrust from Peter. The bullet raced by, unseen, yet the wind and whine of its passing jerked her back to reality.

Desperately, she stepped back, keeping her eyes on the two before her. They were arguing, but she had no desire to stay and see the outcome. She wanted to turn and flee, but unwilling to present her back as a target, she crept back step by step, only pausing as they both glanced towards her again.

Was that pity on Peter’s face she wondered, surprised to see something other than the habitual scowl. Warily, she watched them turn and walk away.

They had moved some distance before Peter turned, pointing with something he held, back along their path. With only a haunted glance in her direction, he walked on.

Why had they left her alive? Uneasy now, her gaze drifted to the body, partially concealed by the truck that nestled diagonally into the space where the car had been. Alarm bells clanged their warning through her brain as she recollected the news program of only the day before, explaining the technique of using a truck as a bomb. Could it be...?

Before her eyes had time to register the truck disintegrating, she was caught in a turbulent cloud that slammed her with brutal force against the ground.

Pain engulfed her, driving all rational thought from her mind. She could hear nothing but the pounding of blood rushing through her veins, surging along broken pathways as it tried valiantly to repair the damage. She thought she screamed, but only a sigh escaped her parted lips and her mind flew with her breath.

Chapter 2

The blast buffeted the building, moments after his eyes had registered the dense smoke filling the sky about four blocks from where he stood.

Adam Thorne swore, reaching for his mobile a second before its strident call rang out, his eyes still fixed firmly on the billowing clouds.

'Where?' he barked, already turning from the window.

'King and York? Right. See you there.'

Moving swiftly across the room, he punched the familiar numbers of the Terrorism Intelligence Unit into his phone, the line picking up a bare second later.

He spoke briefly.

‘We’re running hot. All the team. All the equipment. Makeshift area being set up within the cordon as we speak. Entry to the site at King and York. Got it?’

Receiving an affirmative, he pressed end. Slowing only to grab his jacket, he hurried from the room, pulling keys from his pocket as he started to run.

While part of his mind concentrated on negotiating the chaos of intercity traffic as speedily as possible, the rest was busy cataloguing the course of action the event entailed. At least, he thought grimly, with it being the fourth attack in as many weeks, they sure as hell knew what to do. He remembered a time, not that long ago, when all they had to deal with were gang wars, kidnapping, retaliation attacks and the like, with the threat of a bomb far down the list of expected activities.

His mouth twisted in mockery at his thoughts. Now, although they had no idea why, it was becoming an everyday occurrence. Two of his men had already retired, stating stress as their reason and he knew he couldn't blame them. It was hard to reconcile senseless death, especially when you saw it in its violent form. It was idle conjecture at this point but he knew he would lose more in the coming months, if the terrorism continued unabated.

Perhaps this time, they would find something conclusive, something to at least give them a direction to follow.

A car swung out, cutting in front of him and he blasted his horn in satisfaction. Didn’t they see the flashing light for God’s sake. He grinned sardonically as they hurriedly slipped back into their own lane, allowing him to speed past. It was probably time he gave the traffic his undivided attention.

It seemed to take forever but only twenty minutes had elapsed when Adam reached the police cordon and waited with barely restrained impatience as they checked his credentials. After finally allowing him through, it took another ten minutes to get near enough to the blast area and the men he sought.

'McCready,' he murmured, nodding at the detective as he joined the group.

'Ah Thorne, here we go again.'

He inclined his head as he moved apart from the others and with a heavy frown, Adam followed him into the devastated area.

The dismal scene, reminiscent of a war zone, was cloaked in thick dust. Smoke curled in wispy tatters here and there and he surveyed the scene bleakly, feeling the same shock he always experienced on sighting the broken bodies. The unlucky civilians who had lost their lives being in the wrong place at the wrong time. His mouth firmed at the futility of it all, knowing that he was going to have to get out of this job before it destroyed his sanity. His gaze followed the silent men in bright orange clothing working nearby, covering bodies and bloodied parts, knowing that this close to the blast, no-one would have survived. A scream rent the air behind them and he turned, ready to help but was stopped by the hand on his arm and the sad voice of McCready.

'No Adam, I'm sorry but I need you here. Besides, somebody will already be helping them.'

He paused, looking up at the granite face of the man who towered over him. He was five foot eight so Adam must be at least six foot five he thought, momentarily diverted by the size of the man he stared at. He cleared his throat along with his mind, concentrating once more on the matter in hand.

'Too coincidental don't you think. Second one within two weeks and in a highly populated area. Same time too actually, blast went off at ten thirty.'

He stared at the carnage before muttering bitterly, 'I hate these cowards that delight in destroying the innocent. Do they think that the governments or big corporations they are targeting really care? Damn them all to hell.' He cursed bitterly before continuing. 'I think my friend, that I am getting to old for this job. It just seems to weigh me down more and more.'

He paused, glancing back at Adam, noting the ironic twist to his lips.

'I’ve been thinking the same Denny. The bodies...' he waved his hand around, 'the bodies haunt me...'

His voice trailed into silence as he leant forward, his eyes scanning the decimated building on the corner.

What had been a high rise building, containing a bank on the lower three floors and offices, was hardly recognisable. Holes gaped jaggedly, dark where there had once been glistening windows. The lower floors had collapsed, leaving the rest leaning tiredly against the next building.

Adam glanced around. The buildings to each side had collapsed under the severe load that had crashed down on them but the rest of the buildings in the blast area looked, at first glance, to be relatively unscathed, with very little physical damage, apart from every pane of glass, cracked or broken.

'Localised explosion,' he murmured. 'I think you could be right. Possibly the same perpetrators, or copycats.'

He strode lightly across the street, placing his feet carefully before stopping to examine the crater, a grim look crossing his features at the sizable hole. Standing back he surveyed the street, his eyes narrowing as he estimated the force of the blast.

'Just guessing at this stage but I'd say what’s left of that truck will prove it to be the vehicle used. I would expect indications of explosives on and nearby. There are similarities to the last explosion and they used a truck for that. After the photographers have finished Denny, I’ll get the team marking every piece of metal and anything out of the ordinary from there to there. Can you keep all but the necessary personnel outside that area? Even barrier the area if needed,' he said, his arm circumscribing a circle from where they stood.

McCready nodded, began moving away but Adam, hearing a scrabbling of displaced rubble, swung around to see a rescue team exiting the collapsed building, a bare handful of survivors stumbling in their midst. One of them looked vacantly across at the two men, his grimy face registering the horrors he had seen before tiredly looking down as he was helped over more debris.

Adam's fists clenched as he watched; wanting to assist them, but knowing that plenty were already searching, the specially trained as well. Frustrated, he turned away, ready to follow McCready back to the perimeter. Casting his eyes down, he searched the ground as he walked, stepping carefully over a twisted frame of what had once been a bicycle before stooping to lift up a shard of metal, inspecting and feeling satisfaction as he saw the cobalt blue sheen along one edge. He lowered it to the same spot, knowing that the forensics team would spot it and mark its position.

He frowned as he straightened, his eyes drifting sideways to a misshapen lump under a blood stained blanket. His eyes moved of their own accord, noting other forms covered with cloth, some recognisably human shapes, some not. He shuddered and averted his eyes but found himself drawn to another stained blanket that didn't quite cover the body beneath. A pale arm extended from one side and the fanciful idea crossed his mind that it was imploring him to come closer. Shaking his head impatiently he made to walk on but stopped as he thought he detected movement from the corner of his eye.

He stood still, unsure. Had he seen a finger move or not? He knew these bodies would have been checked thoroughly for signs of life but still he hesitated, staring fixedly at the outstretched hand.

Amy...

Her eyes flew open as a calmness radiated outwards. The excruciating pain had disappeared and she found herself looking down on the torn and twisted body below. That it was hers she had no doubt but a blankness persisted in her mind and the voice that stubbornly repeated ‘remember, you are Amy,’ softly faded, dissipating into wispy letters that floated in random disorder about her head before disappearing into the darkness that hovered at the extremities of her vision. Refusing to acknowledge the truth of that advancing cloud, she turned around, searching for something or someone who could help her.

There were others like her, she saw at once; hovering over broken bodies or parts of bodies and she shuddered as she saw their despair. She kept telling herself that she was different from them, that the body she guarded was still alive but as time passed, she found herself wondering if that was what they thought too. She watched the rescue workers arrive with their grim faces and blankets to begin the daunting task of checking the bodies, until she finally had to look away, unable to bear the pain the other watchers could not hide.

A peculiar scrabbling sound intruded and she turned in surprise. There were people nearby; searchers, and she breathed deeply, relief flooding her as they cleared the rubble that partly covered her body. She glanced back at the watchers, feeling pity at their plight as they stood huddled together, staying close to what they once had been. One, a man, looked up, met her eye and beckoned.

She shook her head.

He beckoned again, urgently.

Denying him with a firm shake of her head once more, she gestured at the ground behind her and was surprised to see the obvious sympathy in his expression as he finally turned away. Unable to grasp the reasoning behind his look, she stared after him, perplexed, but he rejoined the others without glancing back.

Hearing voices, she swung around, only to recoil in horror as a person kneeling by her body crossed himself in compassion, then draped her with a covering of red cloth.

‘No,’ she screamed, trying to beat her fists against the chest of the man who reverently covered the visible portion of her face with the blanket. Her hands passed through him.

‘No,’ she screamed again, loud enough for them to hear if they would only listen. ‘I’m alive damn you! I’m alive!’

The rescuer rose, crossed himself again and moved on to the next shapeless lump of flesh, passing right through her as shock held her immobile.

How could they not see she wondered with a hint of desperation, her gaze drawn to the blanket that seemed to breathe in time to the flutter of her pulse. Was it only visible to her? Was she dreaming? Hallucinating? Was she already dead?

Shivering, she dropped to the ground, aware that the waiting darkness silently edged a little closer, waiting to absorb all that she had become. Someone touched her shoulder, causing her to look up. It was the man who had beckoned her before. Beyond him, in the distance, waited the others, their eyes still filled with sorrow but when she bought her gaze back to the man, he smiled, once again holding his hand out to her.

She turned her head away, refusing him as she had before. She could feel the power of his presence, willing her to join with them but resisted fiercely, knowing that all hope would be lost if she complied.

Desperately, she touched the body before her, felt the warmth and was partly reassured. Smiling now, she looked back at him and, as if he finally understood, he bowed his head and turned away, moving back to where the others endlessly waited.

Eventually, her gaze returned to the body lying so still before her. Was she deluding herself she wondered? Was she really dead and just unable to accept it? Her mind registered sound and movement in the distance but she was unable to tear her eyes away, sure that if she did, her body would disappear.

She rested her hand on her arm, only to notice a coolness that hadn’t been there before. Frantically, she searched for the fluttering pulse but it was feeble now and she nearly missed it. Crying out in despair, she turned away at last, expecting to see the others still mourning their lost, lifeless bodies but they were gone and she was the one lost. Desolate and alone, she watched the darkness approach.

Unsought, the thought came to her. The darkness approaching is death.

She halted, knowing with a growing certainty that while her body still breathed, albeit faintly, there was hope. Rejecting the idea of death before it crushed her, she resolutely turned from the advancing cloud and crouched once more by her body, straining to see the signs of life that showed she lived. She searched anxiously, aware that her life was slipping away, slowly but surely. She needed help and fast.

All she had to do was get someone’s attention. She felt the futility of that task, aware that she had had no impact at all on the one who had covered her. Sound echoed, distracting her thoughts and she frowned, aware that somewhere, she had heard a similar tone; one that pleased and reassured at the same time. She tried to look around, to see who was there but a strong compulsion kept her gaze on her body. Her vision grew blurry, narrowed to a spot that contained nothing but her outstretched hand and she knew what she had to do.

Concentrating all her willpower, she tried to make her fingers move.

An exclamation sounded in her vicinity and she was elated, sure she had succeeded. A blurry form materialised in front of her, and for some reason seemed familiar although she knew not why.

A hand grasped her wrist and she cried out exultingly, ‘Yes, yes. I am alive. Feel my heart beating. I am alive.’

Her hand was placed tenderly back on the ground, the blanket readjusted.

‘No,’ she wailed despairingly. ‘No! Don’t go! Save me...’ and although her vision had succumbed to the approaching dark, she sensed him preparing to leave.

Frantic now, a violent anger surged through her and although she wondered vaguely if it was at herself, she directed the power it fuelled to her fingers for she knew she would not survive much longer without help. A finger trembled... curled... beckoned... and was seen.

Her body throbbed with pain but she disregarded it. She had succeeded. They knew she was alive. She didn’t care that the probing fingers seared where they touched, setting her body aflame and causing her mind to shriek in warning.

She was safe; she would live.

Strong arms wrapped around her, tightened, then lifted.

The pain blossomed abruptly and she screamed silently in agony. Her world darkened as her body and all its resources began to shut down.

But, one tiny spark of life remained.

Chapter 3

After what seemed like hours, Adam slowly exhaled, cursing himself for having such a vivid imagination. He glanced around, seeing McCready was almost out of sight and in spite of himself, looked back down at the covered body. Poor soul he whispered, and leant down to pull the cover over the exposed arm.

This time he knew it was no illusion! Dropping to the ground, he whipped the blanket away, uncovering the broken and bloodied body of a woman, tossed carelessly aside by the displaced air.

She was face down on the ground, one arm out flung, the other, or what was left of it, tucked into her side. Her legs were stretched out at unnatural angles and he could easily see the broken bones in each leg.

Working quickly, he checked her body for any other obvious breaks and finding none, gently turned her over, feeling quickly for a pulse before raising his eyes to her face. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at her, her loveliness untouched by the shrapnel that had shredded her arm and part of her body.

Amy. The woman who had been on his mind far too much in the month since he had met her.

With difficulty he wrenched his eyes away, searching madly for a pulse but unable to detect one. In his anxiety, he moved her jerkily, causing a spurt of blood to erupt from a gash on her arm. His pulse pounding with relief that she was still alive, he applied pressure to the cut and gently lifted her into his arms, hurrying in the direction that McCready had taken.

'Hey,' he called out, his voice rasping, ‘I've found one alive.'

A paramedic raced to his side from the string of patiently waiting ambulances, placing his finger firmly against her neck.

'Yea, I can feel her pulse. It's very feeble but it's there. Are you fine with her?'

Adam nodded.

'Good, we don't want to disturb her more than we need to. Quickly now, over here.'

The paramedic ran ahead, yelling to the ambulance crew what he needed. By the time Adam reached them and placed the woman on the waiting stretcher, he had a syringe in his hand and swiftly injected some substance into her vein.

His gaze rested on Adam as he kept his finger on her pulse and murmured, 'We have to stabilise her and fast.' He turned to the waiting crew. 'Get her in now and hooked