Holiday Amnesia

by Lynette Eason

He hesitated. “Honestly, I’m not sure if they really do have questions or if this is just an attempt to come over here to press you some more.”

  “I can handle it, Toby.”

  He paused. “I don’t doubt you can, I just don’t know that you should have to.” A frown creased his brow. “But if you want them to come over here, I’ll call McBride back and tell them to.”

  Did she really want to do that? No. And besides, what could she tell them that they didn’t already know? “It’s okay. Go talk to them and if you think I can add anything to the conversation, bring them over.”

  Toby gave a short nod. “All right, that’s the way we’ll play it then.”

  He let Trent and Lance in on the plan, then took her hand. “Hang in there, Robin. Hopefully, all of this is just for a little while longer. You’ve got my number. Call me if you need anything. I’m going to let Oliver know what’s going on and maybe he can help keep an eye on the place, too. I’m just a few minutes away, okay?”

  “I’ll be fine, Toby. Go.”

  He pulled her into a hug, then kissed her—a comforting, if slightly desperate, meeting of the lips that sent Robin’s heart pounding. Before he could pull away she wound her arms around his neck and held on, kissing him back, trying to put all of her emotions into the moment.

  He lifted his head, the longing in his eyes making her palms sweat. He walked backward to the door. “I wasn’t going to do that.”

  “But you did.”

  “I did.” He grabbed his coat and hat from the hook by the door and pulled them on. “I’m falling for you, Robin, and I can’t.”

  “Why not?” She didn’t recognize her own voice. Breathless and thin.

  “Because it’s complicated.”

  “Complicated. Well, what isn’t these days?” She sighed. “Go, we’ll talk later.”

  “Yes, we’re going to have to.” And then he was heading out the door, his phone out, Oliver on the line.

  Robin pressed shaky fingers to her lips and closed her eyes. “Complicated,” she muttered. “No kidding.” What was she not remembering? “Come on, brain, fill in the blanks.” The fire. The smoke. The fear. Yes, she remembered all that.

  Pop.

  And just like that, the memory was there. She saw Alan jerk as the bullet hit him in the back. He went down, rolled. The killer stepped over and shot him again in the chest. Alan stayed still.

  A knock sounded on the door of the bed-and-breakfast. She gasped and her heart pounded. The visual of Alan on the floor, shot, bleeding...dead...sent shudders through her even as she stepped to glance through the side window. Lance. She opened the door. “Hi.”

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, why?”

  “Toby stopped me and asked me to check on you.”

  She shook her head and pursed her lips to hide her amusement. “He just walked out the door.”

  “I know.” For a moment, his eyes sparkled with a knowing mirth before turning serious again.

  “It’s sweet, but honestly. I don’t need checking on every two and a half seconds, I promise. As long as you keep anyone from getting in here, I’ll be fine. I’m not going anywhere or sneaking out any windows in some dumb attempt to be a hero. I’m going to that lovely library Sabrina has on the second floor, find a good book to sink into and pray I can forget about this mess for a while.”

  Lance smiled. “That sounds like an excellent plan. You have my number if you need anything though.”

  “Of course. I really do appreciate it. Thank you, Lance.”

  “You’re very welcome, Robin. I’ll probably see you again shortly.”

  She let out a low chuckle as Lance left with a jaunty salute.

  Robin went into the den to sink onto the sofa. For several moments, she stayed put, trying to decide if she wanted to sleep or read.

  What she really wanted was to remember, but since that didn’t present itself as an option, she rose and made her way up the stairs to the library. It was surprisingly well stocked and Robin chose a book she’d loved since childhood.

  She returned to the den and for the next hour lost herself in the adventures of a young girl who dreamed of being the first female doctor.

  After a short time, she couldn’t ignore her rumbling stomach any longer. In the kitchen she fixed a ham and cheese sandwich, all the while keeping an eye on the windows. Knowing Lance and Trent were out there helped keep her nerves at bay, but a restlessness dominated her spirit. She wanted to be helping. Doing something. Pushing the investigation forward.

  And the only way she was going to do that was if she remembered. With a sigh, she ate the sandwich, still debating when a shadow passed by the kitchen window. Frowning, she waited, watching to see if it happened again.

  It didn’t.

  She rose and went to the kitchen door. Pushing aside the curtains, she peered out into the backyard. After several seconds of seeing nothing that alarmed her, she blew out a frustrated breath. “You’re being paranoid, Robin.”

  But that didn’t mean she didn’t have a reason to be. She slipped to the next window. Again nothing.

  Robin went to each downstairs window and checked them, making sure they were locked and hadn’t been tampered with. None had. But at the front window that overlooked the main street and the diner, she paused.

  Oliver stood talking to Special Agent Young on the sidewalk. Wait a minute. Wasn’t he supposed to be talking to Toby? Young pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and flapped it in Oliver’s face. Oliver snatched it and looked at it, then tossed it back at the man.

  “What is going on?” she whispered.

  Young and Oliver exchanged a few more words, then Young started her way while Oliver glared after him.

  Frowning, she moved to the next window to keep Agent Young in her sights. Lance stopped him before he got to the front porch. With a tense jaw and narrowed eyes, Young began to speak. Robin unlocked the window and raised it a crack.

  “...need to speak with her,” Agent Young said. “I have a request in to a judge to grant us a court order that says she’s to see a Bureau-appointed forensic psychiatrist. But it would be great if Ms. Hardy would just agree to talk to him. I promise he’ll know how to talk to her, keep her safe mentally while pulling her memories to the surface.”

  “No judge would sign such a thing,” Lance scoffed.

  “We’re talking national security. You might be surprised what a judge would sign.” When Lance didn’t move, he sighed. “At least ask her if she’s willing.”

  Lance glanced back at the house and blinked when he saw her watching. She bit her lip. Should she agree to speak to the psychiatrist? In truth, the thought didn’t bother her, but rather gave her hope. “It’s okay, Lance, let him in.”

  Agent Young raised a brow and Lance shook his head. “I don’t think so, Robin.”

  “Please. Just let him in.”

  Lanced hesitated a moment longer, then shrugged. “Fine, but Toby isn’t going to like this.”

  “Toby’s not calling the shots anymore,” Young said. “We are.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Lance said. He looked at Robin. “Call Toby.”

  “I will if I need to.”

  Lance raked a hand over his military-cut hair. “All right then.” He eyed the Special Agent. “You won’t let her out of your sight, right?”

  “I promise.”

  Lance hesitated another second, then huffed a sigh. “Fine.”

  “Where’s Trent?” Robin called.

  “Grabbing us some sandwiches at the diner,” Lance said.

  “It’s open?”

  “Part of it. Daisy was determined that the shooter wouldn’t make her lose any business.”

  “Good for her.”

  “I’ll be right here if you need anything, Robin.”

 
“Thanks.”

  Ignoring Lance’s glare, the special agent walked up the steps and Robin met him at the door. “Thank you, Ms. Hardy.”

  “Robin,” she said and gestured to the living area. “We’ll be more comfortable in there.”

  She took a seat on the couch and Special Agent Young took one of the blue wingback chairs next to the fireplace. “Thank you for seeing me,” he said again.

  “You’re welcome, but I thought you and Agent McBride were meeting with Toby.”

  “McBride is. I decided to let him handle talking to Toby and come see you. I’m sorry to insist like this, but we really need you to remember that night.”

  “Waiting until Toby was away to press your advantage was a little sneaky.”

  He flushed but didn’t deny it. “Toby’s shared about the virus and we feel like it’s supposed to change hands soon. Right now, you’re the only person who can stop that from happening.”

  “I see.”

  “So, shall we get started?”

  She frowned. “I thought I heard you say something about a psychiatrist.”

  “I did. And that would be me.”

  “What?”

  He clasped his hands between his knees and leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. “Let’s talk.”

  * * *

  Toby stood from the loveseat and paced to the window. Where was Young? He’d excused himself to get some coffee the minute Toby showed up. McBride sat in the recliner near the window. “How’d you manage to convince the Bureau to pay for the nicest room in the hotel?”

  “It was the only one that could serve as an office, too.” A pause. “Do you regret leaving the agency?”

  Toby turned. “Not really. It was something I felt I had to do. I enjoy teaching and I’m good at it.”

  “You’re good at a lot of things.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Just that you’ve managed to keep us from questioning Robin like you know we need to.”

  “Yeah, well, I have my reasons for that.”

  “Such as you’re in love with her and think we’re going to somehow cause her more trauma?”

  Toby raised a brow. “Where did that hypothesis come from?”

  “Observation. Mostly by my partner. He’s really good at reading people.”

  No kidding. “Robin’s important to me,” he admitted.

  Actually, she was more than just important, but he’d have to address that later when thoughts of loving—and losing—Robin didn’t make his knees go weak. “She’s remembering more every day,” he said. “It’s possible she’ll remember everything on her own—which is really what the doctor wanted.”

  “But you don’t want her to. Why’s that?”

  Toby froze. Then met the agent’s eyes. Kind eyes. Honest eyes. Toby sighed. “You and I both know the longer she goes without remembering, the more chances a killer has to take her out, so—”

  “Exactly. So why won’t you let her help us figure this out?”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to help you. Or have Robin help you...” He paused. “I met Robin when she came to work at the university lab shortly after I started teaching there. I really liked her from the first moment I saw her, you know? Unfortunately, I couldn’t do anything about it. She was my assignment.”

  “From Ben.”

  “Yeah. I had to get close to her—and keep my distance at the same time. It was difficult to say the least.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “But you know how it is. The assignment takes precedence over personal feelings.”

  “You were a good operative.”

  Toby laughed. “I wasn’t an operative at the time, but the training was ingrained. Yeah. I did a good job.”

  “And still are from what I can tell.”

  “Thanks.” He raked a hand through his hair and glanced down the street one more time. Where was the other agent? A niggling at the back of his mind troubled him, but he couldn’t put his finger on the reason. “Your partner coming back any time soon?”

  McBride looked at his phone. “He should be back soon I would think.”

  Toby met the other man’s eyes. “He’s not getting coffee, is he?”

  His phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket. A text from Lance. Call me.

  FOURTEEN

  After telling the agent everything she remembered from the night of the explosion, Robin stood and walked to the mantel and looked at the display of pictures. Family. Friends. People laughing. Making memories. The only memories she had of her parents were angry screams and the blue lights of police cars bouncing on her bedroom walls.

  “Robin?”

  She drew in a deep breath. “Sorry. Got lost in thought for a moment.” She clasped her hands. “But that’s all I can tell you. There’s nothing more there.”

  “It’s there, you’re just going to have to dig a little deeper for it.”

  But did she want to go digging, that was the question. She decided she must since she’d invited the man into the house to talk to her. “All right. What should I do? How can I pull the memories from this uncooperative brain?”

  “We’ll go back through the memories with you adding any details that come to mind. So, the trouble started in the lab. You were working.”

  “Yes. But I have no memory of actually—”

  Angry voices caught her attention. She put the slide away and pulled off her gloves.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I remember being there.” Her excitement grew. “In the lab. I remember! I remembered the men arguing before, but this time I actually remember working before I heard them.”

  “Who was arguing?”

  “Alan and someone. I—I’m not sure. Probably the other man they found dead.”

  Pop. Pop.

  She shuddered. “I’m sorry. I need some water. Would you like some?”

  “Sure, I’ll take a bottle.”

  Robin escaped to the kitchen, grabbed a water from the refrigerator and drank half of it. She pulled her phone from her pocket just as it rang. Toby. Just the person she was thinking of calling. “Hello?”

  “Robin, I’m glad I caught you. Lance called and said you were talking to Agent Young.”

  “Yes.”

  A pause. “All right. I guess if you feel like that’s what you need to do, then do it. I don’t like the way they went about getting you alone though.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have a feeling they pulled me away under the guise of asking me more questions so that Agent Young would have the opportunity to speak to you without me running interference.”

  “Yes, probably.”

  “If you have any weird feelings about him, get Lance’s attention, please. I’m heading back that way.”

  “While I don’t necessarily like his tactics, I don’t get any weird feelings, Toby, I’m fine.”

  “All right. I’m wrapping up here. See you in a few minutes. And, Robin?”

  “Yes?”

  “Just...if you remember anything, will you let me know?”

  “Of course.”

  “No matter what it is, you’ll tell me?”

  “Yes, Toby, I promise. I’ll tell you.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Sure. You okay?”

  “Yes. We just need to talk.”

  “Okay. We can do that when you get back. I escaped into the kitchen to get some water and catch my breath, but I think I’ve kept the man waiting long enough.”

  “Okay. Take care, Robin.”

  “Yeah. You, too.”

  She hung up and a low pop and a loud thud interrupted her. Frowning, she grabbed the bottle of water for the agent, then walked into the den. And gasped. “Agent Young!”

  He lay on the floor facedown, a pool of b
lood gathering beneath his head. She rushed to go to him, then stopped. Her gaze darted around the room. Empty, except for the man who needed help. She started to lift the phone to her ear.

  “Put the phone down, Robin,” the voice said from behind her. “I’ve already called it in.”

  She spun. “Oliver?”

  He held his weapon ready while he swept the room.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, heart pounding, grief welling. “What happened to him?”

  “He’s been shot.”

  “By who?” She eyed Oliver’s weapon. “You?”

  “Of course not. I thought I saw someone slip inside and followed him. We need to get you out of here.”

  “We need to get him some help.”

  “And help’s on the way. All that matters now is getting you someplace safe. Now let’s go before whoever shot him comes back.”

  Robin dropped next to the bleeding man on the floor and pressed two fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse. It beat slow and steady. But the bullet hole in his chest didn’t bode well.

  “Robin, I’m not kidding,” Oliver insisted in a low voice. He glanced at the stairs. “We’ve got to get out of here now.”

  “We can’t just leave him,” she said.

  “I saw someone sneaking in and came after him. Toby’s not here right now, and I’ve got to keep you safe or he’d never forgive me. I don’t know who Young was working with, but they can’t be far behind.”

  “Where are Lance and Trent and the others?”

  He hesitated. “I’m not sure. There wasn’t anyone watching the house when I walked up.”

  “That’s not possible. I’m calling Toby.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and pressed the button to speed dial his number.

  Oliver covered her hand with his and squeezed. “Okay, go. Get in my car and lock the doors. Call Toby from there. I’m going to search upstairs,” he whispered with another glance at the second floor. “Go.”

  She hesitated and followed his glance. “No. You come, too. You can’t take on a killer all by yourself. You need backup.”

  He stayed put. Looked at stairs, then back at her. “All right. I’ll get you to safety. Come on.” He held out a hand, and with one look back at Agent Young, she allowed him to lead her from the room.