“Are you going to try to kill me?” she came out and asked, glancing first at Gabriel and Cameron. Then at Jameson.
Jameson tapped his badge. “I’m not the bad guy here.”
Her gaze darted away from his, and she took another of those uneasy breaths. “Sometimes bad guys wear badges.”
That didn’t sound like a guess or a general observation. “Is your amnesia cured and you’re remembering something specific?” Jameson pressed.
But he instantly regretted the snark. More tears came, and even though Kelly quickly brushed them away—cursed them, too—Jameson still saw the pain on her face. Not just physical pain, either. Whether or not the amnesia was real, she’d still been through some kind of ordeal.
“The CSI swabbed her hands for gunshot residue,” Gabriel explained, “but she put up a real fight about being fingerprinted.”
Jameson pulled back his shoulders. People who did that usually didn’t want their identities known. Coupled with the dyed hair—Kelly had been a brunette when he’d met her—she was obviously trying to disguise her appearance. Even her eyes were different. She’d hidden her green eyes with brown contacts.
“Call me if she says anything we can use to figure this out,” Gabriel added, shutting the ambulance door.
Jameson nodded and got seated just as the ambulance driver took off. The EMT continued to hold a compress to Kelly’s head and probably would have to do that the entire time since it was still bleeding.
It wouldn’t be a long ride to the hospital, only about ten minutes, and Jameson wanted to make the most of that time. He started by reading Kelly her rights. Gabriel had likely already done that, but Jameson didn’t want there to be any unticked boxes if she did confess to everything.
Whatever “everything” was.
“Did you shoot those two men?” he asked. “And before you lie, just remember we’ll know if you’ve fired a gun because there’ll be gunshot residue on your hands. Your weapons will be tested, too.”
She touched her fingers to her mouth, which was trembling a little. “I honestly don’t know if I shot them or not. They’re dead?”
He nodded, though the confirmation might not have even been necessary. Because she might already know the answer. “Who were they?”
An immediate head shake that time. So fast that the medic told her to keep still. “I don’t know that, either,” Kelly answered. Her gaze came to Jameson’s again. “Did you send them after me?”
There it was again—her distrust of him. Well, the feeling was mutual. “Let’s get something straight. I didn’t send thugs after you. I’m not here to kill you. Everything I’ve told you has been the truth, but you can’t say the same, can you?”
She stared at him. “You’re talking about that file you mentioned to the sheriff. I don’t remember it. I need to remember,” she added as she choked back a hoarse sob. “Because I have to know who you really are and why this is happening.”
He huffed again. “I’m really Jameson Beckett, Texas Ranger,” he supplied. “Now, start from the beginning. Tell me everything you know, everything you remember.”
“I remember them,” she said, glancing at Chip and the other EMTs. “And the sheriff. Someone swabbed my hands.”
That was a good start, but nowhere near what he wanted. “What do you recall before that?” Jameson pressed. “Before the sheriff and the EMTs arrived.”
Kelly stayed quiet for several moments. “I remember the pain in my head. Being on the ground. It was damp. And I saw the blood.” She stopped, her gaze going to his again. “What did the sheriff mean when he said there’s a bad history and more between us?”
Well, there was nothing wrong with her short-term memory, that was for certain. Jameson didn’t answer her, but he thought she understood what he wasn’t saying because she muttered a simple response.
“Oh.” Then she groaned. “Oh, God.” The tears filled her eyes again. “But it doesn’t make sense.”
“I agree. Not much about this makes sense, but you mean something specific. What exactly?” When she didn’t answer, Jameson added another question, one that was at the top of his list of things he wanted to know. “If you don’t remember anything, why did you keep asking for me?”
“Because of this.” She moved her hand to the front of her shirt. Then stopped. “I need to show you something, and I don’t want you to shoot me.”
“Is it another gun or knife?” he growled. Because he was pretty sure his brother would have found something like that when he frisked her.
“No. It’s a message.”
Everything inside Jameson went still. “What kind of message?”
Her hands were shaking when she unbuttoned her top. Some of the blood had soaked through to her chest, too, and that’s why it took Jameson a moment to see the small piece of paper that she took from her bra. She unfolded it, the trembling in her hands getting even worse, and she showed it to him.
What the heck?
Jameson drew his gun. “Explain that,” he demanded, tipping his head to the note.
Or rather the threat.
Kill Jameson Beckett or you’ll never see her again.
Chapter Two
Kelly hadn’t been sure what Jameson’s reaction would be, but she’d known it wouldn’t be good. And it wasn’t.
The anger flared through those already-intense blue eyes.
Eyes that she wished she could remember.
There was something about him that tugged at her. Attraction, probably. He was a hot cowboy after all. But there seemed to be something else. Something that she wished would become clearer in her muddled mind. Clearer because the last thing she wanted to do was kill this man.
He was glaring at her now, but still she studied him. Hoping there was something about him that would trigger a memory. He was tall and lanky. Dark brown hair like his brother. The family resemblance was there as well, but it wasn’t a resemblance that caused her to recall anything other than what’d happened to her in the past half hour or so.
“Who wrote that message?” Jameson snarled. He snapped a picture of it with his phone and sent the photo to someone. Probably the sheriff. Then, taking the note just by the edge, he snatched it from her and put it on the seat next to him.
Kelly buttoned up her top. She definitely didn’t want to sit there with her bra exposed. “I don’t know who wrote it or how I got it.”
That was the truth. And it was something she figured she’d be saying a lot tonight. She prayed this memory loss was temporary. Prayed, too, that her injuries weren’t so serious that she couldn’t get the heck out of there ASAP. Other than the attraction she was feeling toward Jameson, she knew in her gut that it wasn’t safe to be here.
Plus, there was the “her” in the message.
It was obvious someone—a woman—was in danger.
“I think it could mean my sister,” she added. “That’s why I had you try to call her. Could you try again, please?”
He glared at her, hesitated, but he did fire off a text to someone. Kelly had no memories of Mandy, but if those dead men had taken her, their comrades could be holding her somewhere.
Waiting for Kelly to do what they’d demanded and kill Jameson.
“If you really have amnesia,” Jameson went on, still snarling, “how did you know that message was there?”
“I just knew.” It was an answer that obviously didn’t please him, because he cursed. “Why would someone want you dead?” she asked.
Jameson gave her another of those flat, scowled looks. “I’m a Texas Ranger, and I’ve put a lot of people in jail. One of them might not be happy about that.”
Yes, it could be that. But she had the feeling there was more to it. Jameson confirmed that several seconds later.
“My family has been getting threatening emails and letters.” His jaw clenched.
“Threats connected to my parents, who were murdered ten years ago. The killer is in a maximum security prison, but someone has been sending out these sick messages to taunt us.” He tipped his head to the note. “Messages like that one.”
“Is there a her in any of those emails or letters?” she asked.
“No. But that doesn’t mean it’s not from the same person. Are you the one threatening us, Kelly?”
She tried to pick through the tornado in her head but couldn’t latch onto anything. Other than the pain. “I don’t think so. No,” she amended. She didn’t want to harm Jameson. Didn’t want to harm anyone. She just wanted to figure out what the heck was going on. “Was I connected to your parents’ murders, to their killer?”
Now it was his turn to shake his head. “Not to the murders but to August Canton. His brother is the one who was convicted of killing my folks. August somehow convinced you of his brother’s innocence, so you were looking for anything to help with the appeals. You stole from me to do that.”
Yes, she’d heard the conversation that he’d had with his brother about the stolen file. Again, no memory, and it didn’t seem like something she would have done. Especially steal from a man who’d likely been her lover.
Kelly repeated August Canton’s name, hoping it would trigger something. It didn’t. “I don’t remember him, either. Could any of this be linked to August or his brother?”
“Not Travis, because he’s in jail.” Then he paused. “But even if August or he managed to arrange something like this, I can’t imagine either of them going about it this way. You’re not a hired gun. Or at least you weren’t two years ago.”
And she wasn’t now. Kelly was certain of that. However, she didn’t get a chance to try to convince him because the ambulance pulled to a stop in front of the emergency room doors of the hospital. The EMTs used the gurney to take her inside.
There was a uniformed deputy waiting for them, and when they went in, Jameson immediately motioned toward the note that he’d left on the seat. “Bag that and show it to Gabriel. I’ll need her clothes bagged, too.”
Yes, because there might be some kind of evidence on them. She hoped so anyway. She needed answers.
“Who were those dead men in the pasture?” she asked. “Do you have ID’s on them?”
Jameson seemed annoyed with her question. Of course, he probably was annoyed—and highly concerned—about all of this. Because of the note that had ordered her to kill him.
“We’ll know more soon,” he finally answered. “Especially when you remember what you should be remembering.”
There it was again, the tone that indicated he didn’t believe her. She couldn’t blame him. There were two dead guys, a threatening note and an ex-lover who didn’t have a clue what was going on.
The medics transferred her to an examining table in a room just off the ER, and Kelly immediately looked around to make sure someone wasn’t there, ready to come after her. Every nerve in her body was on high alert, and she prayed if there was another attack, she could protect herself.
Jameson didn’t immediately come into the room with her, but he stayed in the doorway while he made a call. However, he didn’t take his attention off her. Too bad. Because Kelly thought it might be a good idea for her to put some distance between Jameson and her.
While he was still on the phone, a nurse came in, took her vitals and made a quick check of her head wound. It was throbbing, but that was the least of her problems right now. Apparently the least of Jameson’s, too, because whatever he was hearing on the phone caused his forehead to bunch up.
“What’s wrong?” she asked the moment he ended the call.
The nurse mumbled something about the doctor seeing her soon and walked out, leaving them alone.
“Your sister’s still not answering her phone, so I’m having the San Antonio cops go out and check on her,” Jameson said.
“Good. Thank you.” But that wasn’t an explanation for the renewed tension in his face. “What else?”
“You have gunshot residue on your hands, and one of the guns you had matches the wounds on the dead guys. It’s looking as if you’re the one who killed them.”
Kelly felt the tears again. Felt the icy slam of fear in her chest. “I don’t think I had a choice. I think they were trying to kill me.”
Jameson blew out a long breath. It sounded bad. Was bad, she mentally corrected. She’d been sent to kill him. Maybe those men had been sent to kill her. And whoever had orchestrated it was maybe still out there. Maybe that someone was also the reason her sister wasn’t able to answer her phone.
Kelly tried to focus, tried to make sense of the whirl of memories that were in her throbbing head. But when she wasn’t able to sort through it, she decided it was time to get as much info from Jameson as he would give her. Maybe then she could use that to piece together this puzzle.
“We were lovers?” she asked.
“No. Yes,” he amended after he cursed. “We had sex, but it was all a ploy on your part to steal that file.”
That. They kept going back to that file. “Why would I help someone like August Canton?”
“You tell me. In fact, I wanted to ask you that question about two years ago, but you disappeared.”
Maybe Mandy would be able to help with that. She likely would have told her sister why she had disappeared. Well, maybe. If her sister and she had been close—since they’d owned a PI business together, maybe that meant they had been.
“Other than the Canton case, any idea what else I was working on around that same time?” she asked.
Kelly hadn’t figured that Jameson would actually know. Especially if she had gotten involved with him because of the Cantons, and that’s why she was surprised when he readily answered.
“You were investigating a guy named Frank Worley.”
Finally, that sounded familiar. More than familiar. It sent another chill through her. “He’s a money launderer.”
Jameson stared at her and then moved closer. Too close. And he looked into her eyes. “That’s what the San Antonio PD thought. So did one of his former employees. You remember that?”
“No.” But she motioned for him to continue.
He did, after he huffed. “Worley’s ex-girlfriend, Hadley Beecham, hired you to find their infant daughter, Amy, whom she claimed Worley had stolen and hidden. Hadley was killed in a suspicious car accident, but that only made you dig deeper into the case.”
She thought about that for a moment. “Maybe Worley’s the reason I disappeared. Maybe he’s the reason this is happening now?”
Jameson shrugged. “Worley’s bad news, I have no doubts about that. But I was never able to link your disappearance to him.”
“You searched for me,” she said. But wished she hadn’t. That comment only put more frustration back into his eyes.
“Because you stole that file,” he grumbled.
So he’d been looking for her to arrest her. Maybe still would. But she instinctively knew that it wouldn’t be safe to be locked up where someone could get to her. Everything inside her was screaming that she should get to a safe place, and behind bars wouldn’t be that place. Plus, she wouldn’t be able to look for that her.
A man stepped into the room. He was wearing jeans and a blue shirt, but he was in the process of putting on a white coat with a name tag stitched on it. According to the name tag, he was Dr. Timothy Halston.
“It’s okay,” Jameson said, taking hold of her arm. Until he did that, Kelly hadn’t even been aware that she was trying to get off the table. “He’s the local doc in Blue River.”
Neither the doctor nor his name meant anything to her, but Blue River rang some bells. It was Jameson’s hometown. She was sure of it. And she’d been on her way there when, well, when the incident with those men had happened.
“Jameson’s right,” the doctor added
. “And I need to have a look at that gash on your head.”
The doctor moved in to do that just as Jameson’s phone rang. He stepped back into the doorway, moving away from her. Something that sent her heart racing. Even though she wasn’t sure she could fully trust Jameson, right now Kelly trusted him more than she did anyone else.
“It’s not that deep of a cut, but I guess you took a hard enough lick on the head to mess up your memory,” the doctor continued, but Kelly tuned him out and tried to hear what the caller was telling Jameson. He didn’t put his phone on speaker, but after a few seconds, he mumbled some profanity.
“When?” Jameson asked the caller.
She had to look around the doctor when he moved in front of her to continue the exam. Not that there was much to see or hear. Jameson was clearly in listening mode. And like before, he didn’t like whatever it was he was hearing.
“When will I get my memory back?” Kelly asked the doctor.
“Can’t say. Sometimes, these things only last an hour or so. Sometimes, longer. I’ll order some tests,” the doctor said, waving a penlight in front of her eyes. “How bad is the pain?”
“I’m okay,” she lied. But there was no way she wanted pain meds. Her head was already too foggy as it was.
“All right. Then I’ll get started on those tests.” The doctor again. “A nurse will be in soon to take you where you need to go.”
Jotting down some notes, the doctor left, but it took Jameson several more seconds to finish up his call. Even when he put his phone away and came back to her, he took his time saying anything.
“Is it Mandy?” she came out and asked.
Jameson nodded and didn’t seem surprised that she’d guessed that. “The cops went to her apartment. She wasn’t there, but it appeared there had been some kind of struggle.”
Oh, mercy. So this probably was connected to her sister. Someone likely had her and was holding her hostage.
Roughshod Justice Page 2
