by Rita Herron
“Yeah.” He swore beneath his breath as he surveyed the damage.
Panic clawed at Jane. “We’re really trapped now, Fletch.”
Fletch clasped her hand and squeezed it. “For now, maybe. But my team will find us.”
She wished she had his confidence. But she was unable to hide her fear. She might not know much about herself, but she didn’t like small spaces.
He gently brushed dirt from her cheek. “Remember what I said before. My brothers will look for me and so will my team. The cave is near where we found that man’s body. Once they see the avalanche, they’ll launch a search.”
Jane desperately wanted to believe him. The thought of suffocating in the darkness terrified her.
“Come on,” Fletch said softly. “Let’s move away from the mess. The air will be better back there.”
She clutched his hand. “But what if someone comes? We won’t be able to hear them.”
Fletch released a breath. “We won’t go far, just far enough to breathe better.”
She relented and realized he was right. The air felt cooler, clearer, her breathing more steady as they crawled to a wider section of the cave. Fletch leaned against the wall beside her, his expression calm, although worry shadowed his eyes.
* * *
FLETCH REINED IN his mounting anxiety. He wanted to start digging them out again, but the explosion had damaged the structural foundation of the cave, and he didn’t trust that the whole damn place wouldn’t collapse on top of them.
“What if the man who tried to kill me set off that explosion to make sure we didn’t survive?”
Compassion for Jane replaced his need to keep his distance. “It’s possible, I suppose. But you shot him when he ambushed us.”
“He could have had an accomplice who’s still out there.”
“Then who is the dead man on the rocks?”
Jane pinched the bridge of her nose. “I wish I knew.”
Fletch mentally sorted through the possibilities. “At this point, we can only speculate. Let’s go over what we know so far.”
Jane nodded. “I remember being attacked by a man, tied and gagged in that cave. I tried to escape and he found me and knocked me unconscious and left me in the blizzard to die.”
“Man number one—attacker.”
“I also remember a man with a wolf tattoo on his arm. He put the wedding ring on my finger.”
“Man number two is the husband.”
Jane shrugged. “Then there was the bearded man who shot at us. The one I killed.”
“In self-defense,” Fletch reminded her. “So the bearded shooter was man number three.”
“And now the dead man with the scar on his face, who we found on the rocks,” Jane added. “That makes four.”
“Which means the bearded shooter and the scar-faced dead man may or may not have been your attacker. It’s possible they’re connected, that one or more of them were being paid to find you.”
Jane dropped her head in her hands and groaned. “And there’s the question—why do they want me dead?”
Fletch rubbed the back of her neck. “I know it’s disconcerting, Jane. But we will solve this mystery.”
Jane looked up at him with such helplessness that he forgot his reservations. He pulled her into his arms and stroked her back. “Just hang in there.”
She tilted her head to search his face. “But what if I’m guilty of killing my husband like your brother suggested?”
“If you did, then there must have been a good reason,” Fletch assured her.
* * *
PANIC NEEDLED JANE, and she and Fletch fell into an awkward silence. She prayed he was right about her. She didn’t want to escape this cave only to be locked in a cell the rest of her life.
As the hours dragged by, the interior of the cave grew smaller and darker. Her anxiety intensified with every passing minute. She didn’t know if the air was harder to breathe because it was running out, or if the fear squeezing at her lungs was making her paranoid.
Eventually fatigue claimed her, and she curled against Fletch. He wrapped his arm around her, stroked her back again, and she drifted to sleep. Occasionally when she stirred, she heard the soft sound of Fletch’s breathing.
Comforted by his presence, she closed her eyes and sleep claimed her again. But even in sleep, the nightmares returned to haunt her.
The blood...her parents’ faces...her husband’s tattoo, his body flying backward, the gun clenched in her hand...
Then she was running for her life. Someone was behind her. She felt his breath, heard his hiss as he closed in on her. Then his hands snatching her, a blow to the head...and she was spinning and falling into the darkness.
Then gunfire. She gasped for breath. She was trapped in a cave. The air was gone. She was dying...
She jerked awake at the same time Fletch did. A noise somewhere. Fletch released her and crawled nearer the cave exit. Jane joined him, perched on her knees, listening.
There it was again. A low noise... Voices.
Hope bloomed in her chest. Fletch snatched his radio and attempted to make contact again, but failed. Voices echoed again.
“Hello?” he shouted. “We’re in here!”
She and Fletch both began to yell, shouting over and over until she heard a chipping sound. Then a man’s voice alerting them they were there to help.
Someone was out there! They were going to be rescued!
Tears of relief blurred her vision. Several seconds passed. A hacking sound. A ping. Voices again.
Seconds bled into agonizing minutes. Finally the debris and snow and ice began to melt away with the rescue workers’ efforts. A small hole appeared, enough to allow light and air to flow in.
Jane almost sobbed with relief.
“Fletch?”
This time the voice was loud, distinguishable.
Fletch raised his voice, “Todd, we’re in here!”
“We’ll have you out soon. Back away from the opening.”
“Copy that.”
Fletch clutched Jane’s hand, and they crawled away from the exit and leaned against the back wall. Dust floated through the air, making it difficult to breathe again, and Jane covered her mouth with her hand to keep from inhaling it.
She thought the workers would never break through, but finally they cleared a hole large enough for them to slip through.
“You go first,” Fletch told Jane. “I’ll follow.”
Jane sucked in a breath, then straightened her arms and dove through the clearing as if she was diving into a swimming pool. Two men grabbed her arms and helped pull her to the other side where she collapsed, coughing and fighting for breath.
* * *
FLETCH WAS NEVER so happy to see his buddies in all his life. Not that he’d lied to Jane. He trusted them with his life.
But they’d survived one shooter and if that explosion had been meant to trap or kill them, he needed backup.
Todd had brought a medical team, and they rushed toward Jane. Todd and Jacob approached him.
“You okay, Fletch?” Todd asked.
He nodded. “Thanks,” Fletch said. “I knew my team would find us.”
Todd rubbed a hand down his chin. “You helped by giving Jacob your coordinates for that body on the rocks.”
“I sent my deputy with a team to recover the corpse, and another team has gone out to collect the body of the man who shot you,” Jacob interjected. “Now you need to go to the hospital.”
Fletch offered Jacob an encouraging look to reassure him he was okay. Knowing the trauma he and his brothers had suffered when they lost their parents, he hated scaring them.
Jacob gestured for the medics to examine him anyway.
“I’m fine,” Fletch protested. “Jane needs medical attention. She sustained a head injury an
d is still suffering from amnesia.”
“You have a damn gunshot wound, brother,” Jacob said. “You’re going to the hospital, too.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Fletch pushed up to stand, but his leg buckled slightly.
“See?” Jacob said with enough emotion that Fletch relented.
“All right, I’ll ride with Jane in the ambulance and we’ll both get checked out.”
“Fletch,” Jacob said in a gruff voice. “What the hell happened between you two?”
A lot. “Nothing,” Fletch muttered. “But she seriously needs medical attention. Someone who can help her recover her memory.”
“We’ll see she gets it,” Jacob assured him. “But don’t forget—if she’s Bianca Renard, she’s wanted for murder.”
Fletch glared at Jacob. “So you told me. But nothing I’ve seen about Jane suggests she’s a cold-blooded killer.”
A gust of wind picked up, scattering snow and debris and sending melting ice from the trees down in a shower.
“You seem defensive of her,” Jacob muttered, his voice distressed.
“Because I think she’s a victim,” Fletch said.
“Thanks, Fletch, but I can stand up for myself.” Jane’s voice echoed from behind him, and he realized she’d broken away from the medic.
Fletch stepped closer to Jane, his protective instincts surging to life. “Jane, this is my brother Jacob, the sheriff of Whistler.”
Jane swayed slightly. “I haven’t lied to your brother, Sheriff.”
Anger, subtle but real, flickered in Jacob’s eyes.
“Listen to me,” Jacob said to Jane. “You and Fletch are both going to the hospital for tests and exams. Then you have to answer some questions.”
Jane lifted her chin in a show of defiance, or bravado. Fletch wasn’t sure which. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know. But I’ll be interested to see what you’ve uncovered about me.”
Jacob and Jane locked horns in a stare down that would have made some men weak in the knees. But Jane stood her ground as if she had her feet back, as if she intended to tackle her problems head-on.
Fletch admired her courage.
He just hoped to hell she got the answers she wanted.
Jacob addressed the medics. “I want her carried down on a stretcher and secured in the ambulance. I’ll ride with her and my brother to the hospital.”
Jane’s mouth twisted with irritation, but she lifted her chin again. “Does that mean I’m under arrest, Sheriff?”
Chapter Thirteen
Fletch studied his brother’s body language, but as always Jacob remained calm and cool. Professional.
“Not at the moment, but you are a person of interest. First we verify your identity, then we’ll go from there.”
Jacob turned to Fletch. “You have evidence for me?”
Fletch jammed his hands in his jacket pocket. “In my pack. I labeled each item and where I found it. There are pictures on my camera, too.”
Jacob patted Fletch’s back. “Thanks, man. You did good work out there.”
A rescue worker helped Jane onto a stretcher, and Fletch angled his head toward Jacob. “I really don’t think she remembers, Jacob. And for what it’s worth, nothing about her fits with your description of Bianca.”
“Liam is digging for more information,” Jacob said. “Let the doctor examine her, and I’ll send the evidence you found to the lab.”
“Good. There’s something else. I think the avalanche that caused us to be trapped may have been set intentionally. We were close to digging our way out when there was another explosion. It sounded like dynamite.”
“Damn.” Jacob lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the blinding morning sun flickering off the white snowy hills.
“I’ll send a crime team to search for explosives.” He scanned the ridges above them. “Did you see anyone suspicious before the avalanche started?”
“Not really,” Fletch said. “Maybe a shadow in the woods.”
“Fletch,” Jacob said in a low voice. “Be honest. Do you have any idea what’s really going on here?”
Fletch’s first instinct was to deny that Jane might be complicit in a crime.
But he had to know the truth.
“I have a couple of theories, but they’re only that.” A gust of wind sent another deluge of snow and ice on them. “Can we discuss it once we get down from the mountain?”
Jacob studied him for a minute. “Sure.” He planted a hand on Fletch’s chest. “But you are going to the hospital and having that leg looked at. Now get on the stretcher, too.”
Fletch shook his head. “No way. I hiked in. I’m hiking out.”
Jacob’s eyes darkened. “You don’t have to prove you’re macho, brother.”
Fletch laughed. “I’m not. But I refuse to make my men carry a perfectly healthy, strong man down the mountain.”
Jacob muttered a sarcastic remark, and Fletch chuckled.
Seconds later the team geared up, and they began the trek down. Jane looked worried as they descended the mountain. Fletch gave her an encouraging look, but he kept his senses peeled for trouble in case another shooter was hiding along the way, waiting to ambush them.
* * *
JANE GRITTED HER teeth as the rescue team carried her down the mountain. She might not remember her name or the details of her past, but she instinctively knew she wasn’t helpless.
She took care of herself and had been doing so for a long time.
As much as she’d been afraid of dying in that cave, she missed the intimacy she’d shared with Fletch. Being alone with him gave her a sense of safety.
Now she felt his brother’s eyes scrutinizing her as if he feared she had sinister intentions toward Fletch.
By the time they reached the bottom of the mountain, she’d worn herself out with questions and doubt. How could she blame Fletch for pulling away when her life was a mystery? Worse, when she was wanted for murdering her own husband?
And his brother... Jacob probably thought she was some kind of Black Widow.
The medics loaded her into the back of an ambulance. Fletch stood with them while Jacob and the rescue team spoke in hushed tones, their heads bunched in conversation. The wind drowned out the sound of their voices, leaving her in the dark.
One of the medics radioed the hospital to report her condition, then Fletch joined her in the back of the ambulance.
His brother Jacob shot her a disapproving look as if he suspected she’d seduced his brother into believing her lies. “I’ll be right behind the ambulance.”
She reined in her temper and said nothing. If she reacted like a hothead or defended herself, she’d only appear more guilty.
At least he hadn’t handcuffed her. But she sensed that was coming. Unless she remembered something in her defense.
The ride to the hospital was steeped in silence, the icy sludge on the ground creating a hazard on the road and slowing the ambulance. When they arrived at the emergency entrance, she and Fletch were wheeled into different exam rooms.
The staff immediately checked her vitals and drew blood for lab work, then encouraged her to submit to a rape exam, although she insisted she hadn’t been sexually violated. Still, she understood tests were necessary, and as humiliating as it was, she did want to know who’d hurt her. If she’d had sex before she’d been abandoned in the woods, she wanted to know with whom. And if it was consensual.
A CAT scan came next and then an MRI, after which she was moved to a room. There they hooked her up with an IV to hydrate her, and brought her some warm broth.
It seemed like hours later when the doctor finally appeared. He asked her dozens of questions about herself that she couldn’t answer. She struggled to tap into that empty well where her past lay, but failed. No, she didn’t remember her birthday or where she’d been born. Or
if she had a dog or a cat. Or what her favorite color or song was.
Or how long she’d been married...
“The CAT scan was relatively normal,” he reported. “There is some slight swelling around your brain, caused from head trauma. That could account for the amnesia you’re experiencing.”
“And if it’s not the swelling?”
“Physical and/or emotional trauma can cause memory loss. Sometimes we repress memories as a way to protect ourselves.”
Except not knowing the truth was putting her in more danger.
“Most likely, with rest and time to heal, your memories will return on their own.”
“And if they don’t?” Jane asked.
“If you want to speak to a therapist, we can arrange that. There are also alternative treatments, more extensive kinds of psychotherapy, hypnosis, etcetera,” he said. “But I don’t think we need to go there quite yet.”
Of course he didn’t. But he wasn’t accused of murder.
* * *
IMPATIENCE NAGGED AT Fletch as the doctor examined his bullet wound.
“It actually looks good,” the doctor said. “You said the woman they brought in removed the bullet and stitched you up?”
“That’s right,” Fletch replied. And he was anxious to see her again.
“She probably saved you from infection by acting so quickly,” the doctor said. “We’ll clean your incision and redress it, then you’re good to go.”
“Thanks.” A nurse stepped in and changed the dressing, then Jacob entered the room.
“I’m done,” Fletch said as he slid from the exam table. “How’s Jane?”
“The doctor wants to keep her overnight for observation. She was dehydrated. He thinks rest may help with the swelling in her brain and the amnesia.”
“Did you question her?” Fletch asked.
Jacob grimaced. “Not yet. But I want someone watching her room tonight in case she tries to escape.”
Irritation thrummed through Fletch. “No need. I’ll stand watch.”
