“You sit. I don’t want to disturb your work.” Julia walked into the kitchen and began to scour the cabinets. She found several boxes of flavored tea. On the stove top was a stainless steel teakettle. She lifted it and filled it with water. “Can I make some for you?”
“I’ll try anything once. Coffee is my go-to beverage.”
“You know, I never got the taste for coffee, which always surprises people when I tell them I work in health care.”
“That does strike me as odd.”
“How do I make a long story short? During nursing school, I worked with a hospice nurse. When we were visiting a family after her patient died, they offered me a cup.”
“I take it that didn’t go over so well?”
Julia chuckled. “It was the strongest, most bitter liquid I’d ever put in my mouth, but I drank it because I didn’t want to appear thoughtless. From then on—”
“No coffee for you.”
Not to mention that the aroma of the coffee had also been forever linked in her mind to the stench of death. Julia shuddered and turned the water off, set the teakettle on the stove and turned on the gas burner. “Exactly, just tea. So, what is it you do for the FBI?”
“I guess you could call me a jack-of-all-trades. My specialty is computer forensics, but I hated being cooped up indoors, which was part of why I joined the FBI—to get to work in the field.”
“And outside of work?”
“I know I don’t look the part of the rugged mountain man, but when the snow is melted and the sun is out I’m usually hiking. Evergreen is home.”
Julia tapped her fingers on the counter as she waited for the water to boil. “Have you seen the insane gymnastics maneuvers people are attempting these days? I didn’t even know what parkour was until some kid came in with a broken arm after trying it.”
Ben laughed. “Those parkour people are a totally different breed. A little—” he whistled and circled his finger next to his head “—cray-cray to say the least.”
“Do you have children?”
His lips parted slightly as if to speak and then clamped down. A flash of unhappiness appeared in his eyes as quickly as it was replaced with a placid smile. “No children.”
“Sorry if that’s too personal, but that phrase you used is common with kids these days, and I noticed you watching the boys in the park.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m just keeping a close eye on the perimeter. The agents outside don’t have a view of this side of the property. I’m curious though. What’s it like? Working with kids all the time?”
“Challenging. You can have the best and worst moment in the same day.”
“How is that possible?”
Julia pulled two cups from the cupboard. “I’ve saved a child’s life and lost another in the same day.”
Ben placed his elbows on his knees. “What’s it like for you to lose a child? As a nurse?”
Julia’s pulled down one of the boxes of tea Eli had stocked. It touched her that he’d gathered these for her to try and make her feel more comfortable. There hadn’t been a man in her past who had even tried to be attuned to her needs. “I can’t speak as a mother about the loss of a child, because I’ve not been one, but I know as a nurse to lose a patient...particularly someone so young...” Julia pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. Her gut clenched. There had been too many lost little ones in her eight years of nursing. “It’s devastating.”
Contemplating her statement, Ben shifted back and looked out the window.
There was something there. Something hidden she couldn’t quite figure out. Years of nursing instilled in Julia a wealth of intuition. Every day, she had to interpret the things patients could not say.
A child claiming her black eyes and swelling lips were the result of running into a door. The teenager with small, deliberate razor cuts on her forearms as the only means to experience the pain she could not speak of. It was her expertise to read the smallest impressions of verbal tone, the slightest shift of body language that would disclose a truth a patient didn’t want to confess.
She placed a tea bag in the brown mug.
Ben settled his eyes back to her. “I’ve lost victims in the line of fire. You’re right...it’s tough. But it’s not like losing a family member.”
Julia’s parents came to mind and how she didn’t have them anymore.
Ben was right—it wasn’t the same.
* * *
Eli slowly walked up the steps of the one-story redbrick structure of the facility where Hank Galloway, Julia’s grandfather, was a resident. His thoughts often wandered back to Julia, how seeing her in the flesh, so strong and healthy, made it difficult to keep his emotions in check.
In law enforcement, it was rare to see a good outcome to someone who had suffered from such a violent crime. Knowing that Hank was a retired law enforcement officer, Eli figured it would be hard for him to keep his nose out of Julia’s business—particularly if he felt her life was in danger.
Eli’s goal was to make it clear to Hank that that was exactly what he needed to do to help ensure Julia’s safety.
As he entered the facility, he spied the U.S. Marshal who was working undercover dressed as a volunteer to help keep an eye on things. They acknowledged each other only with the briefest glance as Eli approached the receptionist’s desk and inquired about Hank’s room.
She pointed down the hall. “Third door on the left.”
Eli inhaled deeply. He undid the top button of his dress shirt, loosened his tie and tried to dismiss the vexing nature that the fading imprint of holding Julia in his arms had on him. He knocked softly, semihoping that Hank might be napping.
“Enter.” The voice was strong—anything but weakened with age.
He stepped inside. On the wall hung several commendations and awards from Hank’s law enforcement career. They locked eyes, Hank’s brown eyes, so similar to Julia’s, clearly sizing Eli up.
“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal son.”
Hank, a few inches shorter than Eli, struggled to plant his cane and push himself up from the rocking chair.
Eli crossed the room quickly and grabbed his forearm to steady his tremors. Parkinson’s disease had ravaged his body and laid waste to his muscles. He was a hunched-over remnant of the man in the photos.
“Sir, please, you don’t have to get up.”
“I always like to meet a man eye-to-eye. Particularly one who took such an interest in my granddaughter.”
Holding tightly on to Eli, Hank struggled to a standing position and clasped Eli’s hand in his strong, chafed, leathery one. Even though his other muscles were weak, the ones in his hand were seemingly spared from the ravages of the disease.
“I know you were the detective on Julia’s case. Recognize your face from the newspaper stories but you’re also the one who helped with her rehab. Or am I just being presumptuous?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Nice to officially meet you, son. I’m Hank Galloway.”
“Eli Cayne, sir.”
“Now sit down,” Hank ordered.
Eli assisted Hank back to a sitting position and grabbed a folding chair that sat against the wall.
“I take it your visit has to do with Julia’s strange call earlier today.”
“It does, sir.”
Hank muted the game show he’d been watching and began to rock in his chair. “I noticed a new volunteer working today. Does that have to do with you, too?”
“It does, sir.”
“But you’re not going to tell me what’s going on?”
Eli sighed and settled his back against the cool metal of the chair. He eyed the door. The less Hank knew about Julia’s situation, the better off he was, but Eli also knew Hank’s bloodhound genes w
ouldn’t let him sit idle—Parkinson’s or not.
Maybe just letting him in on the secret was the best way to keep him from trouble.
“The U.S. Marshals’ office is concerned that a hit has been placed on Julia’s life. I’ve placed her in protective custody.”
The chair creaked as Hank pushed it back and forth for a good minute, his eyes never leaving Eli’s, the squeaking like voltage up Eli’s spine.
“So you’re with the U.S. Marshals now.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t have much in the way of financial reserves, but I’d like to give you some money to offset the costs from all the help you gave Julia.”
Eli lifted his hands up. “It’s not necessary, sir. I was honored to be able to help.”
“Seems unusual for a man to take such interest in a girl and not want anything in return.”
And there it hung in the air between them. It was time for Eli to verbalize to this patriarch that he never had any ill intentions as far as Julia was concerned.
Eli smoothed his palms over his legs. “At first, after rescuing Julia, I wanted to know if she was going to live. Being the one to find her that close to death—you can’t help wondering if you were there in enough time.”
“And then when that was clear?” Hank asked.
“Then Julia became the one person who could maybe tell us who this evil man was. When it was obvious that she was having difficulty remembering, I thought the stronger she physically became, the more likely she would remember. Helping with some of her rehab expenses, and spending time with her—encouraging her to get stronger—gave me the opportunity to continue to question her and test her memory.”
“All that time you spent with Julia, and yet we never met face-to-face...were you intentionally avoiding me?”
Eli smoothed his hands over his face. What answer would be the most reasonable? What answer wouldn’t make him seem like some creepy stalker? “I was worried about the case. I was worried that the defense could use my involvement in Julia’s rehab as a way to say the whole case against the Hangman was tainted. That I was wrongly influencing her. The more family members I interacted with then the more likely I could be accused of being improper so I did make myself scarce when you were around. What was most important was getting the Hangman off the streets. When Julia’s memory improved to the point that she was remembering things day to day but that the details of her attack were lost—I thought it was the best time to bow out.”
“And that was the only reason? To protect the case?”
“That was the only reason.”
Hank Galloway lifted an eyebrow—his built-in lie detector alarming.
Even to Eli, it didn’t feel as if he’d completely told the truth.
THREE
Eli parked his car behind the two agents who watched Julia overnight. His heartbeat picked up slightly. There was no denying he was anxious to see her again. He was excited to tell her the hit package had revealed a set of fingerprints they were hoping to get a match on. Thus far, the parolee remained elusive.
Exiting the car, Eli approached the other agents’ vehicle. A navy blue, older-model Ford Granada—in fact, the first type of car he drove as a teenager.
He used his knuckles to tap on the window. Will Sullivan and Jace Bastian looked his direction. Will sat in the passenger’s seat with the laptop of the security feed from Julia’s town house. Jace took the opportunity to exit the vehicle and stretch his legs. As he opened the door, two large McDonald’s coffee cups tumbled onto the broken pavement.
“How’d the night go?” Eli asked.
Jace pushed his hands toward the sky, a groan escaping his lip. “Nothing exciting to report. She read, she slept. Still sleeping.”
Eli glanced at his watch. It was almost nine. Julia said she was an early riser. Perhaps the stress of yesterday had taken its toll. It was a plausible explanation.
“Last contact?” Eli asked.
“By phone around nine o’clock last night. She was asleep an hour later,” Jace said.
“What about Ben?”
Will looked down at his laptop. “He’s not visible on any of the camera views.”
Intuition fired through Eli’s mind. “Call Julia,” he ordered.
“But she’s sleeping,” Will said from inside the car.
“I don’t care. Call her. Get her up.”
Eli rounded the car, opened the door and ripped the laptop from Will’s hands. Jace had the phone up to his ear. Eli could hear the phone ringing through the miniature speakers.
Julia didn’t move.
Will shrugged. “Maybe she’s a heavy sleeper. I’m telling you—Nothing. Happened.”
“That’s the problem.” Eli circled his finger in the air. “Call her again.”
Jace rolled his eyes and with dramatic flair dialed Julia again. Eli would address the tone of those movements when he wasn’t scared something had happened to Julia. This time, she did stir. Eli exhaled. On the feed, he could see her grope for the phone on the bedside table.
Her movements were stilted...clumsy.
Taking the laptop with him, Eli grabbed the phone from Jace in the moment Julia answered the phone. “Julia?”
Breathing. No words.
“Julia—are you okay?”
Was he overreacting? Perhaps she was a heavy sleeper and he’d hastened her from bed the one morning in a long time she was sleeping in. Stress. Being hunted by a killer could definitely sap a person’s strength.
“Hurts...”
He looked back at the laptop feed. She was sitting up rubbing her hand against her forehead. No, not the right words. She was barely able to hold herself upright. Her body would drift to the side and she would jolt herself back into a sitting position.
“Are you sick?” Eli asked.
She slumped backward on the pillows. “Bad headache.”
He pulled the phone from his ear and set it against his chest. “Will, was she drinking last night?”
“Tea—”
“I mean liquor.”
Will laughed out loud. “Julia doesn’t strike me as one who imbibes.”
On the screen, Julia’s arm dangled off the bed and she dropped the phone. Eli shoved the laptop and Jace’s phone at Will. “Call 911.”
“And tell them what?”
“Give them the address. Tell them it’s a medical emergency.”
Eli’s feet pounded the pavement with Jace’s footfalls close behind him. Trees rushed by as he pumped his hands faster to get his legs to pick up speed. Nothing looked disturbed from the distance as he rounded the corner and nearly pummeled the door as he dropped his speed. He jabbed the key code into the lock.
It didn’t release.
He tried again.
Nothing.
“It’s Monday. The lock’s code has changed,” Jace said with his hands on his knees as he huffed from the short sprint.
“Get it.” Eli seethed.
Jace patted his pockets and held his hands up empty. His phone was in Will’s possession. Eli reached for his and keyed in his code and handed it over to Jace and then began to pound on the door. “Julia!”
“I got it. I’m sure she’s fine.” Jace entered the code.
The door released, and Eli almost tripped over Ben’s body crumpled at the base of the staircase. He kneeled down and placed his hand in the middle of Ben’s back. “Ben! Can you hear me?” Ben groaned in response and tried to lift his hand up, but it immediately flopped back down. “Jace, carry him outside for the medics.”
Eli raced up the staircase and straight into Julia’s bedroom.
She remained in the same position he’d last seen her in on the computer screen. Eli sat next to her on the bed and grabbed her shoulder. “Ju
lia. Julia!”
Julia shook like a rag doll under his touch. He licked his finger and placed it under her nose. A faint wisp of breath crossed his finger. He pinched the muscle between her neck and shoulder as hard as he could—a trick from his police days to see if an unconscious person could be roused.
Nothing.
Glancing around the room, nothing seemed out of place. A cup of clear liquid was the only other thing on the table next to her bed. He took a quick sip. Definitely water. No pill bottles.
Will came through the doorway. “What’s going on?”
“Did Jace get Ben outside?”
“Yes, but he’s not waking up. What’s wrong with them?”
“I don’t know.” Eli lifted Julia’s limp body. She was a deadweight in his arms. His throat tightened. Immediately, his mind raced back to the moment he’d cut the rope from around her neck, catching her lifeless body as she fell into his arms. Her skin...so cold and pale. How his breath seized in his chest that he’d been too late to save her.
Just as it did now.
Lord, you cannot do this to me again.
He carried her to the couch, where EMS would have more room to work.
Eli teased her eyelids open and examined her pupils. They seemed normal size—not the dark black holes of the dead or drugged. Julia still didn’t move. The subtle rise and fall of her chest the only evidence of life.
At least this time she was still breathing.
There was something off about her appearance. For bed, she’d dressed in light black cotton pants and a pink T-shirt. He traced his fingers over the scars on her neck and felt her pulse. Something in his mind begged him to remember. Her lips. It was the color. He brushed his thumb over them, spurring his memory into action.
His job was to observe. To catalog every detail to determine if something was amiss. After she’d packed and dressed yesterday, she wore little makeup. Her lips had not looked this red.
Unnaturally red. Cherry red.
He brushed his thumb against her lips again. Definitely not lipstick.
Voices called out as he heard heavy boots racing up the stairs. Two paramedics in their firehouse bunker pants and suspenders eased him back.
Fractured Memory Page 3
