“I want to go with you,” Julia said. She’d been so quiet—Eli had forgotten to try and shield her from the conversation.
Quentin placed his elbows on his desk. “Julia, you’re a protected witness, and we need to do a better job of ensuring your safety. It’s outside just about every protocol I can think of to have you go with Eli. Your home is the safest place for you to be.”
“Except he knows where I live,” Julia pressed.
“I understand, but with our presence nothing will happen to you there,” Quentin assured her.
“But you can’t guarantee that—you haven’t been able to yet.”
“Julia—” Quentin started.
“I can help. I think...no, I know that I’m remembering things.”
Eli nearly fell over. “What?”
“I’m getting flashes. I think they’re memories.”
“Why didn’t you say—”
Julia cut him off with a quick glance.
Eli took a deep breath in and held it. It was his fault. When had he given her the opportunity to share this? Truth was last night he’d cut her off at the knees.
“What have you remembered?” Quentin asked.
“Pieces from that day. Getting ready for work. Going to the door. Opening it...” Julia’s voice trailed. Her head bent down.
Open. That was the key word. If she willingly approached the door then...
“Did you recognize your attacker?” Eli asked.
“What I think is that I willingly let the person in. The first time I remembered something, he was inside my house, but I didn’t know how he got there. I haven’t been able to see the person—he’s all fuzzy. The next time, I remembered hearing the person call my name and unlocking the door. It ends there.”
“Julia, that doesn’t help us,” Ben said. “Quentin’s right. It’s safer for you to be secured. There are too many other variables when you’re out and about.”
“You’re wrong.” Julia glared at Eli. “Being around people who are part of the case can trigger more of these memories. I don’t think it’s outside the realm of possibilities that I could identify the man who attacked me. I honestly don’t think it was Dr. Heller.”
Ben blew his hair from his eyes. “Quentin,” he implored. “We absolutely cannot let her do this. Do you know how foolish we look? First, the carbon monoxide poisoning and then she nearly drowns in a river. If you allow this, it’s asking for more trouble.”
A torrent of thoughts rushed through Eli’s mind. What he knew was he felt more in control of the situation when they were together. Perhaps she was right. Julia could be the linchpin that could break the case wide-open.
“I’m okay with it,” Eli said. “It’s not a perfect scenario, but Julia’s right. She’s been attacked at her house. Keeping her there twenty-four-seven could just make her an easier target. If she’s roving with us, it makes it more difficult to pin her down.”
Quentin drummed his fingers. “I’m willing to go along with it but, Eli, if this goes south in any fashion, then your job and my job are both on the line. We’re off standard operating procedure. That would be cause enough for termination. Any more near misses and you can kiss your career in law enforcement goodbye.”
“Understood, sir.”
Ben threw his hands up. “I can’t believe the two of you. No wonder the U.S. Marshals’ office is such a disaster. Your agents are leaving because you’re asking them to risk their lives unnecessarily. Quentin, I’m happy to protect Julia while she’s in a secure environment, but this is too risky. I don’t want to go on this interview. It’s like you’re delivering her right to a potential assassin. It’s insanity.”
Quentin stood. “Fine, Ben. We’ll use your assets back at her house. I want everything rechecked. Surveillance equipment. New locks. You and Jace can head that up today. Be sure it’s ready by the time Julia is home tonight. Are we good on that?”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely.”
Eli rustled his hand through his hair. What little he knew of Ben, it surprised him how adamant he was on this issue. Ben didn’t seem like the type to play completely by the book. As an agent—he understood Ben’s concerns about the possible loss of his job, but it was just an interview with a woman and her child.
Could these two people be another key in unlocking Julia’s memory?
* * *
The drive to Ryder Dymond’s abode had been quiet...unnervingly quiet for Julia’s taste. What did they talk about now? How could they get through these days together...maybe even weeks before ferreting this plot out?
All this tense silence was going to drive Julia crazy.
Eli parked the car on the street. The surveillance team didn’t have any new information. The neighborhood was 1980s tract housing. Cookie-cutter homes differentiated only by their faded paint color.
Eli removed his seat belt. “Just stay a couple of steps behind me.” He adjusted the mic at his wrist. “If there’s trouble, the team is just down the block. You get somewhere safe, and I’ll worry about myself.”
She did as instructed. Eli rapped on the door and a woman dressed in a dirty floral housecoat came to the screen door. Her hair was a knotted mass of tangles pulled up in a messy bun. A boy, whom Julia figured to be about eight years old, hovered next to her—his brown eyes matched his mother’s, though his hair was lighter in color.
“Harper Dymond?” Eli asked.
“Yes?”
Julia could feel the woman’s trepidation as if her heartbeat broadcast wirelessly directly to Julia’s. It matched what she’d felt just days ago.
“I’m U.S. Marshal Eli Cayne.” He held up his credentials for her to study. “I need to ask you a few questions.”
Surprisingly, she opened the door. Eli stepped inside and then motioned Julia to follow. Toys cluttered the front living room, and it seemed as if the young boy had the run of the house.
The screen door slammed behind Julia, and each muscle in her body tensed—the sound too similar to the gunshot she’d nearly suffered.
“Thanks for being open to a few questions. This is Julia Galloway—she’s...”
“I recognize you from the news coverage from the Hangman’s trial,” Harper said, shaking Julia’s hand with the strength of a timid mouse.
Julia couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something about this woman—as if perhaps they’d crossed paths but were never formally introduced. The grocery store? Had she brought her son to the ER for a visit?
“Do you mind if we sit?” Eli asked.
Harper removed the boy’s toys from the furniture and motioned for them to sit on a threadbare love seat. Eli perched on the edge, whereas Julia nestled herself in the corner—the hairs on her neck prickled at having to sit right in front of the picture window.
The boy jumped backward onto the couch and seated himself between Julia and Eli. “I’m Miles!”
Julia awkwardly reached out her hand and he shook it with gusto. “It’s nice to meet you, Miles. My name’s Julia.”
“Miles, please...leave the poor woman alone.”
“It’s okay,” Julia said.
“She works with kids,” Eli offered. “I don’t know if you’re aware, Mrs. Dymond, but a package was delivered to Ryder’s parole officer. It was a packet of information used in murder-for-hire plot, and it had Ryder’s fingerprints on it. Do you know how the parole officer got that package?”
Harper fiddled with the end of her zipper. “I don’t.”
“Do you happen to know where Ryder might be?” Eli asked. “We’d really like to speak with him and get this whole matter cleared up.”
“I don’t know where he is.” She blew wayward strands of hair from her eyes. “He’s a no-good...ever since...”
What was it she didn’t want to say? Ever since what?
“You’re sure you don’t know where he might be?” Eli pressed.
“Ryder and the things he does when he’s not home have gotten him into more trouble than I care to know about.”
“Mrs. Dymond, is there anywhere you could think of as to where he might go?”
“He’s run off before. Won’t tell me nothin’. Sometimes I get a few dollars in the mail, but it’s never enough to feed this child.”
The more Harper talked, the more Julia felt she knew this woman. She began to study her and the house more. No photos were visible. Sometimes people in law enforcement said that was a bad sign of poor family connections, but Julia thought it could also be people not wanting to be haunted by their pasts. The house was cluttered, but not horribly unclean. If Harper’s hair was combed and she wore pants and a nice shirt with just a hint of makeup, she’d be a striking woman. Even in her hoveled appearance Julia’s self-esteem plummeted.
“Has Miles ever been to the hospital before?” Julia asked. “Children’s Hospital?”
Harper planted her hands between her knees. The question didn’t seem difficult, but Harper acted as if she were being forced to walk a tightrope. “Why would you ask that?”
“It’s just that you look familiar to me, and I’m wondering if I took care of Miles before.”
“Julia’s a pediatric ER nurse,” Eli clarified.
“You’re a nurse?” Miles bounced up and down on the couch’s cushions.
Julia tried not to hunch her shoulders too noticeably.
“Once when I was doing my superhero moves—” Miles leaped from the couch and raced around the room holding his arms out like Superman “—I dove off the steps and had to have stitches right here.” Miles collided into Julia and pointed to his eyebrow. Just below it was the faint, slightly raised scar from a stitched laceration.
“He didn’t go to Children’s then,” Harper said. “We weren’t living here when that accident happened.”
“It looks like you were very brave,” Julia said to Miles.
Eli cleared his throat. “Harper, any information you could tell us about where Ryder might be would go a long way in keeping you from scrutiny. I wouldn’t want anyone to think that you were aiding a fugitive from the law.”
Harper’s eyes widened. “Is that what he is? A fugitive? Just ’cause he’s not around to answer a few questions?”
“It’s more than that,” Eli said. “Julia’s life is at risk. I don’t know if you’re aware, another woman has recently been murdered just like the Hangman’s other victims, and we don’t know if the real killer is on the loose. At this point, it would be difficult for us to say that Ryder is not involved in these crimes, because you won’t answer our questions and we can’t find him.”
Harper dried her palms on her withered dress. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’d help if I could... I really would. Our family has had enough tragedy. I just want to move—”
“What kind of tragedy?” The question slipped from Julia before she could help herself. Was it something that brought Harper and Miles into contact with her? A medical crisis at the hospital?
“It’s nothin’ I want to get into with a stranger, but we’ve seen our fair share of death. That’s all I’m going to say.”
Miles tugged at the end of Julia’s sleeve. “Do you have any scars you can show me?”
The scars at Julia’s neck burned as if they were lit on fire. She adjusted the scarf around her neck to ensure that they remained hidden.
“Miles!” Harper yelled. “That’s not a polite thing to ask someone.”
“Mrs. Dymond—are you sure you don’t know Julia? You’ve never met her before?” Eli asked.
Harper shook her head. The wall was up, and cold defiance had set in. Eli’s shoulders dropped. He seemed to sense what Julia knew—Harper wasn’t going to tell them anything else at this point.
Miles continued to tug at her shirtsleeve, and she turned to face him.
“Miss Julia—did you ever take care of my cousin? The one who died?”
ELEVEN
Eli sat in the car facing Harper’s house waiting to back out until Julia had her seat belt secured.
“That was...odd,” Julia said.
“I’d have to say that was the quickest I was ever muscled out of a house by someone half my size.” Eli backed out of the driveway wondering why Harper refused to talk about the cousin her son had mentioned. She had clammed up after that and then shown them both to the door. It had to mean something, but he couldn’t force her to talk at this point. He’d called Ben to look into it on his way to the car.
“Harper is pretty feisty.”
Eli wasn’t ready to leave Julia’s side, so he bought them dinner and drove her to the Capitol Building, where they could sit on the grass and eat. It wasn’t the type of meal he’d use to try and impress a girl on a first date, but then he really wasn’t supposed to be winning her over, so what exactly was he doing? Regardless, it was one of his favorite places in the city. Sitting in that park and watching the sunset was one of the ways he regrouped. Julia was stuck with him until he delivered her home.
Eli handed her a sandwich. She opened up the wax paper and smoothed it on the grass. Despite her long-sleeve shirt and scarf, she shuddered every now and then as if the faint, cool breeze was a little too chilly. Eli eased his suit jacket off and draped it around her shoulders.
“Are you sure you’ll be warm enough?” Julia asked.
Eli opened his sandwich the same way. He popped open a bag of chips and split it between the two of them. “I’ll be fine. From the look in your eye at the sandwich shop—you wanted some of these but just didn’t want to ask for them.”
She smiled. How he missed even the hint of it as both of them had defaulted to a business like interaction. Julia had been quiet most of the day and it bothered him more than he wanted it to. His mood lightened at the slightest contentment in hers. He didn’t want to think about how much he would miss spending time with Julia when her case was over.
“You’re right—it’s just that the cheese dust is going to wreak havoc on my clothes and my breath.”
Eli tapped his shirt pocket. “Always a few breath mints on hand.”
Julia laughed and Eli’s mood climbed even higher. “Really? I hadn’t pegged you for a guy who keeps a stock of breath mints on hand.”
“They’re not necessarily always for me. Let’s just say they make finishing some interviews a lot easier.”
Julia nodded. “I get that. We use peppermint oil.”
“At the hospital?”
“We put a little bit on cotton balls and stick it in rooms where the smell is not so pleasant. Same concept, I guess.”
“I guess.”
For a few minutes, both of them ate in silence. Eli felt like a salted slug on hot cement—his last energy reserves oozed into the grass. This morning, he could have run six miles and not blinked. Now every part of his body ached. His breath became short with mild exertion. Another good night’s sleep in his own bed would do him good.
The next step. Quentin had messaged him and the Justice Department would allow him to interview Dr. Mark Heller. Should he take her? Would it be helpful if he did?
The sun hovered just above the mountain peaks. It was late—nearly eight o’clock. Was it obvious that Eli’s delay in taking her home was to spend more time with her? Nestled in a small grove of nearby trees were a few extra agents helping to keep an eye out. No one seemed to be tailing them. For once, they’d had an uneventful day.
“What do you think of Harper?” Julia asked.
Eli swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and brushed the crumbs off his fingers. “She knows something. I think she knows you but won’t say how.”
Julia nodded, crumpling up her trash and putting i
t in the empty paper bag. “I agree.”
“Problem is...I can’t force her to confess what she knows and we don’t have anything to leverage against her. My guess is she’s the one who anonymously delivered the hit package to Ryder’s parole officer. That probably saved your life, so even if a prosecutor came up with something to charge her with—a jury is going to have a lot of sympathy for her once she fesses up to that. Do you think you know Miles? If you knew and interacted with the family—even the cousin—it could be a piece to this puzzle.”
Julia shook her head. “I didn’t really feel like I’d met Miles before, but I feel like I know her. I used to be really good with faces before I was attacked. With her, I get that feeling, but I can’t place it.”
“Don’t stress about it. I’m sure you come into contact with a lot of people. It would be impossible to remember them all...especially after what you went through.”
“I’ve wanted to ask you something,” Julia said.
Why was it when a woman said that statement to Eli, it always sent his heart stammering? “Sure. Ask me anything.”
“I want to see a doctor.”
Eli turned to face her. What could be wrong? “For what?”
“I don’t know if that’s the right term. Not a medical doctor—a mental health professional. Someone who could help open up my memory and see if I can remember anything else about my attack.”
“Julia—that can be a delicate process and we’d need to be very careful with how it’s done. If the interviewer plants any sort of seed in your mind, then who knows if the information you provide is reliable? I’m sure you know as a nurse that the mind is one thing we haven’t quite cracked. Eyewitnesses who wrongly identify a criminal but can pass a lie detector test. We don’t want anything to get us off track.”
“Are you sure that’s it?”
“What?”
“That you just don’t want us to get off track? Or is it you just don’t want to see me suffer more psychological trauma in trying to remember?”
Was she right? Julia had as much vested interest as he did in remembering. If they did it the right way, there would be little fallout.
Fractured Memory Page 11
