In the Arms of the Enemy

by Carol Ericson

  Cole might have to make his case for Caroline to Rowan instead of the small-town cops.

  The officer at the front counter looked up. “Can I help you?”

  Caroline shook off Cole’s hand and stepped up to the window. “I’m Caroline Johnson. I found Dr. Jules Shipman’s body and I’m here to get fingerprinted, since I didn’t have any ID on me—and still don’t.”

  “Oh, right. Officer Farella is expecting you.” He left the front desk and ducked into the back, with another officer trailing him.

  Another man opened the door on the side. “Come on back, Ms. Johnson. I’m Officer Farella. I’ll be doing the honors today.” He extended his hand and Caroline shook it.

  Farella reached past Caroline, hand outstretched. “You must be Agent Pierson with the DEA, right?”

  “Good to meet you.” Cole shook the other man’s hand, sizing him up. Didn’t seem like a hard-ass that would play hardball, but you never knew.

  “Dr. Shipman’s murder isn’t something the DEA is interested in, is it?”

  “Can’t say right now. You understand.”

  “Sure, sure.” Farella swept his arm to the side, indicating a cubicle with a table, scanner and computer inside. “Ms. Johnson, after you. Have a seat in front of the scanner.”

  Cole pulled out the chair for her and she perched on the edge of it, eyeing the machine.

  “You’ve probably never had this done before, ma’am, but it works just like a scanner. We’ll do one finger at a time and then your palms.”

  Caroline followed Farella’s instructions, the muscles in her face strained and tight, her cheekbones protruding sharply.

  When he finished, he entered a code and pressed some buttons. “This computer will send your prints automatically to the Washington State Department of Justice, which is connected to the national database. It takes about half an hour. We have some coffee here, but the stuff next door at the Coffee Grinder is a lot better, and I have Ms. Johnson’s cell phone number so I can call when we have a match.”

  “Thanks, we’ll wait next door.” Cole helped Caroline, who seemed incapable of moving, to her feet and led her out of the station.

  Once on the sidewalk, she collapsed against him. “I’m so nervous.”

  “Then you probably don’t need any caffeine. Do you want some decaf tea instead or something else?”

  “Tea is fine.” She reached for her phone. “I’m going to call the hospital to check on Linda’s condition.”

  While he ordered a tea for her and a coffee for himself, Caroline found a table and got on her phone. She’d ended the call before he made it to the table, a cup in each hand.

  “How’s she doing? Out of the coma yet?”

  “Not yet, but it’s just a precaution at this point due to her age. They think she’s going to pull out of it just fine.”

  “That’s a relief. We’re almost at the end of the line. We’re going to have answers.”

  “I’m almost at the end of the line.”

  He drew a circle on the inside of her wrist with the tip of his finger. “I’ll do whatever I can for you.”

  She dredged her tea bag through the steaming water. “And I’ll do whatever I can for you, to make up for everything—the secrets, the lies.”

  “You have amnesia. I think that excuses a lot.”

  “You know one thing I do remember?”

  He hunched forward and she held up her finger. “About the immediate past, not my past life.”

  “Yeah?”

  “The description that Linda gave of her attacker sort of matches the description of a man I saw in Dr. Shipman’s office—the only person I saw in Dr. Shipman’s office. He was coming in as I was leaving my first appointment.”

  “Dark-complected Caucasian with long hair?”

  “Yes, only his hair wasn’t in a ponytail. It was loose and kind of scraggly. He kept his head down, so I didn’t get a look at his face.”

  “You should report that to the deputies in Timberline.”

  “I think I have a lot to report to a lot of deputies and detectives and DEA agents.”

  Cole checked his phone with a frown. “It’s been thirty-five minutes.”

  Her blue eyes brightened. “That’s encouraging. If I were on the FBI’s most-wanted list, you’d think the Port Angeles police would be storming this place with guns blazing.”

  “Farella probably got busy and hasn’t checked the computer lately.” Cole stood up and held out his hand. “Are you ready to meet your fate?”

  “As long as you’re by my side.” She put her palm in his. “Bring it on.”

  He kept hold of her hand as they walked back to the station. His next hold on her might be completely different. As they got to the door, he dropped it—didn’t want Farella to think there was anything more between them.

  They walked up to the window and Farella came from the back, a piece of paper clutched in his hand and creases lining his face.

  “Ma’am, we have a problem.”

  Cole swore under his breath as Caroline laced her fingers in front of her.

  She cleared her throat. “What’s the problem, Officer Farella?”

  “There are no fingerprint records for you in the state of Washington—or anywhere else in the nation. It’s like you don’t even exist.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Caroline sagged against Cole’s side as relief flooded her senses. She wasn’t a criminal. She wouldn’t be going to jail or some psychiatric facility today.

  “Th-that’s odd, I guess.”

  “That is unusual.” Cole rubbed his chin as if this were some great mystery.

  “Would I have fingerprints on file if I never committed a crime or held some job where I needed to be fingerprinted?”

  Farella spread his hands. “Never had anything notarized? Never bought property? Some states even require fingerprints on the application for driver’s licenses. It’s just very unusual today for someone to have no fingerprints on file. Are you sure you’re not in a witness-protection program?”

  His words punched her in the gut, and Caroline grabbed Cole’s sleeve and sucked in a quick breath.

  Farella chuckled, glancing from her face to Cole’s. “I was just kidding...I think.”

  “What next?” Cole asked. “You’ll need to report this to Detective Rowan.”

  “Yeah, I’ll send him the results and he can check your prints against the ones we took in the office to rule them out. We may have a lead on the killer, anyway.”

  “Can you reveal anything?”

  “Not much. A witness saw a man in the alley behind Dr. Shipman’s office around the time of the murder. We’re working with that person now.”

  “Is that it for me?” Caroline shoved her nervous hands in her pockets.

  “That’s it for now—at least we know you’re not some criminal on the run.” Farella chuckled again and Caroline laughed along with him with giddy abandon.

  She held up her cell phone. “Well, you and Detective Rowan have my number if you need anything else.”

  “We probably will. When we catch this guy we’ll have a trial, if he doesn’t plead out, and you’ll most likely be called as a witness.” Farella shook his finger in her face. “Let’s just hope you have your ID by then.”

  “God, I hope so.”

  She and Cole left the station silently and she kept her lips sealed until they got to his rental car. Once she closed the door, she let out a scream that bounced off the windows.

  Cole covered his ears. “You really are a mystery woman.”

  “But I’m not a criminal, right?” She grabbed his arm, her fingers sinking into the slick material of his jacket. “If I were, my fingerprints would’ve been in the system.”

  Ch
ewing on his bottom lip, Cole adjusted the rearview mirror, checking for tails like he always did. “I don’t want to rain on your parade, but it just means you were never arrested for a crime. It doesn’t mean you never committed one.”

  She slumped in her seat. “You still believe I was involved in some criminal activity with Johnny Diamond?”

  “No, just doing a reality check.”

  “Well, in my reality, as slim as that is, I’m clear. Now I just have to discover who I am and what I was doing with Diamond.” She took his hand. “Can you help me? I’m officially turning myself in to the DEA. I’ll make a statement and everything. I’ll repeat for the record all I know about my time with Johnny at the Stardust Motel, and you can get someone to pick my brain apart, hypnotize me or whatever it takes to bring back my memories.”

  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “I want to visit Linda in the hospital. Can you take me there? When she’s better, I’m going to tell her everything. Once I’m officially in your custody, Diamond’s associates will figure any drug money I took is in the hands of the DEA. They won’t be able to get to me and it’ll be worthless for them to hurt anyone else close to me.”

  “I’ll take you to the hospital, but I’ll wait there with you.”

  “Do you still think I’m going to make a run for it? I’d just be putting myself in further danger if I did.”

  “I’m not worried about that, but until you’re safely in our custody, Diamond’s cohorts will be out to get you.”

  They drove back to Timberline and Caroline peppered him with questions about the fingerprints. “Is it really that unusual for someone not to have prints in the national database?”

  “These days, it is. For adults, anyway.” He drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel. “Caroline, do you think it’s possible that you lived in Mexico? The Chihuahua Desert, the Spanish speaking?”

  A spike of fear pounded her poor, addled brain. “If I had been living in Mexico, would that explain why I have no fingerprints on file in the US?”

  “It could.”

  She turned to stare out at the green, watery landscape flying by.

  It seemed that all roads led to Mexico.

  * * *

  LINDA’S DOCTORS HAD moved her to a room in the hospital next to the emergency facility. Cole drove to the main hospital and left the car in the parking structure.

  As they stood in front of the elevator, he said, “I’m going to walk you up to Linda’s floor, and then I’m going to make a few calls. I’ll notify the DEA office in San Diego about you. They’ll want you to come in right away.”

  “As soon as I get Linda’s friends on board to take care of her while I’m gone. But how am I going to get on an airplane without a driver’s license?”

  “The DEA will handle everything.”

  They rode the elevator up to Linda’s floor and Caroline approached the nurses’ station. “I’m Caroline Johnson. I’m here to see Linda Gunderson. The doctors okayed it over the phone.”

  The nurse clicked her keyboard, and Caroline looked over her shoulder at Cole, who was against the wall by the stairwell, on his phone.

  “You can go right ahead, Ms. Johnson. She’s in room 528. She’s sharing, so please don’t disturb the other occupant.”

  “Thanks.” Caroline waved to Cole to get his attention, and then pointed down the hallway. He nodded.

  Her low-heeled boots clicked on the linoleum as she passed every room, checking the number. She found Linda’s room at the end of the hall and pushed open the door.

  Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the monitors and tubes hooked up to her friend. She eased into the plastic chair next to the bed and took Linda’s hand. “Hang in there, Linda. I’m going to tell you everything when you come out of this.”

  The patient on the other side of the curtain coughed.

  As Caroline held Linda’s hand, the cell phone in her pocket buzzed. She hoped the police hadn’t suddenly discovered something about her fingerprints.

  She pulled the phone out and screwed up her mouth as she glanced at Linda’s number coming through. How was Linda calling from her phone when she was lying in a coma in this bed? Maybe one of her friends had gotten hold of Linda’s cell.

  “Hello?”

  “You listen and you listen good. Your little game is over...Caroline. You’re coming back with us right now and you’re handing over all of Johnny’s money—our money.”

  The harsh voice grated against her ear and the phone almost slipped from her grip.

  “I don’t know who you are. I don’t know who any of you are. I lost my memory when Johnny threw me across the room. Don’t you get it?”

  “But you remember that Johnny threw you across the room?”

  “That and that he tried to kill me.”

  “He wasn’t trying to kill you, just bring you back. That’s all we want. Nobody’s going to hurt you. Don’t you want to be with your family again?”

  A sob rose in her throat. She wanted a family more than anything. She wanted an identity more than anything—just not her real one. “It’s too late. I’m turning myself in to the DEA.”

  The man swore. “Is that who that cop is? He’s DEA?”

  “Yes, and he knows everything that I know, and I’m going to get my memory back and he’s going to know even more. H-he’s standing right here listening to everything I say.”

  The man laughed, which ended in a cough. “You’re in a hospital room alone with a comatose patient right now.”

  Caroline jumped from the chair and glanced over her shoulder. “You’re watching me?”

  “How’s your friend, the shop owner?”

  A chill dripped down her spine. “She’s hurt, thanks to you.”

  “She’s gonna be hurting a lot more if you don’t do what I tell you to do. Got it? That one, the DEA agent once we figure out who he is—and we will—and your sister. You remember your sister, don’t you? Or maybe you don’t. She’s still in Mexico with her family, but we can get to all of them if you don’t come with me now.”

  A sister? She had a sister? Her head began to throb and she massaged the base of her skull. “What do you want?”

  “Told you. We want you to come home. Once you regain your memory, you’ll want to come home, too.”

  “Apparently not. Why was I on the run in the first place? Because that’s why I was with Johnny, wasn’t it. You or Rocky sent him.”

  Silence stretched on the other end of the line and then the man said, “So you remember Rocky?”

  “N-no. I just saw his text to Johnny, after Johnny was dead.”

  “Does that DEA agent know about Rocky?”

  “No.”

  “I thought you told him everything?”

  “Not everything, just that I’d been with Johnny Diamond when he died and that I had amnesia.”

  “Give him the slip and meet me here.”

  “I—I can’t do that.”

  “Do it, or everyone you care about is going to pay the price. We just attached another tracker to his car, so if you tell him and he follows you, we’ll know. We’re also checking your phone when you get here, so don’t even think about texting or calling him, or we’ll start with your sister’s kid.”

  Caroline clutched a hand to her throat. “How do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know I even have a sister?”

  “I guess you’ll find out when you get your memory back—but it’ll be too late then.”

  Closing her eyes, she said, “Okay, I’ll meet you, but I don’t have a car. Where am I going and how will I get there?”

  “Get down to the loading dock of the hospital. You can get there by taking the elevator to the basement level and exiting the door to the right. You
don’t have to go past the nurses’ station to do it. There will be a car waiting for you. Do not try to get a message to the DEA agent. We’ll be watching and you’ll be sorry.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Now.” He ended the call.

  She glanced at the curtain dividing the beds. How could she get a message to Cole? And what message would she leave? She didn’t know who the caller was or where she was going. Had no description of the car, either.

  She took two steps to the curtain and yanked it aside, meeting the wide-eyed gaze of the elderly man in the bed. “When a guy comes in here looking for me—and he will come looking for me—tell him I went back to Mexico.”

  * * *

  COLE STOPPED TOSSING his phone from hand to hand and checked the time. How much time did Caroline need with a woman in a coma?

  He pushed himself off the wall and sauntered to the nurses’ station. “My friend’s been in with Linda Gunderson for a long time. Is it okay if I go back and get her?”

  “Room 528.”

  “Thanks.”

  He checked the room numbers as he walked down the hall. When he reached 528, he opened the door and poked his head inside. The machines connected to Linda hissed and beeped, but Caroline wasn’t at her bedside.

  He stepped inside, his heart thumping uncomfortably in his chest. She couldn’t have left already. He’d been at the nurses’ station the whole time. Calling her name, he headed toward the open door of the bathroom and leaned into the small, empty room.

  She’d bolted.

  “Excuse me.” A faint voice floated from the other side of the curtain, and Cole spun around and pulled it back.

  An elderly gentleman raised his hand. “She left and she told me to tell you something.”

  A pulse thudded in Cole’s temple. “The woman visiting next door? What did she say?”

  “She went back to Mexico.”

  Cole collapsed in the chair next to the man’s bed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What else did she say?”