Forgotten Memories (SWAT: Top Cops Book 4)

by Laura Scott

  “Really? You love me?” she asked breathlessly.

  He laughed, leaping to his feet and sweeping her into his arms. “Yes, I love you, Gabriella Fielding. More than I can possibly say.”

  When he set her down, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gazed up at him, her beautiful green eyes bright with unshed tears. “I’m so glad. Because I can’t imagine what my life would be like without you.”

  He kissed her tenderly, knowing they were totally in sync because he felt exactly the same way.

  EPILOGUE

  Gabby left the hospital, exhausted from her long shift yet excited to be having dinner with Shane. For the past couple of months they’d spent every moment of their free time together, growing closer than she’d ever thought possible.

  Granted there had been dark times where she’d struggled with putting everything behind her. She’d spoken to Kristin, the sheriff’s department psychologist to help come to grips with the fact that her father had been a criminal. And she’d wrestled with guilt after Joe Chasco had died. But being with Shane and attending church had helped her find peace and joy.

  She’d never been this happy. It was as if every day was a new gift. And she’d been humbled and pleased when Shane’s sister, Leah, and her husband, Isaac, had welcomed her into their family with open arms.

  Today was her birthday, and even though she’d never told Shane about it, he’d asked her to come to his house for dinner. She wasn’t expecting anything special; after all, they’d pretty much taken turns making dinner on their days off.

  She’d actually been pleasantly surprised to discover Shane was a decent cook. Probably better than she was.

  The chill in the air made her shiver and she hurried to her car. As she drove to Shane’s, she enjoyed seeing the Christmas lights decorating several of the houses along the way.

  She pulled into his driveway and shut off the engine, smiling when she noticed he was waiting for her in the doorway.

  “You’re right on time,” he said, after giving her a big hug and kiss.

  “Aren’t I always?” she teased.

  “No,” he said honestly. “But it’s not your fault when your patients don’t cooperate.”

  “Something smells good,” she murmured, sniffing the air. “Did you make a pumpkin pie? Thanksgiving is over, you know.”

  “Isn’t pumpkin pie your favorite?” Shane asked, as he helped her with her coat.

  “Yes,” she acknowledged with a smile. “But you prefer pecan pie.”

  “Who’s to say we don’t have both?” he asked. He tossed her coat over the back of the chair. “Have a seat on the sofa.”

  “Okay,” she said, even though she thought his request was a little odd. She patted the seat beside her. “How was your day?”

  Instead of sitting beside her, he dropped to his knees. And when he pulled out a small velvet box, she gasped.

  “Gabriella, I want you to know how much I love you. From the moment you saved my life, I couldn’t get you out of my mind. And ever since that moment, I’ve only grown more in love with you. I know this might seem a little fast, but will you please marry me?”

  Tears of joy sprang to her eyes and she nodded eagerly. “Yes, Shane, of course I’ll marry you!” Ignoring the box, she leaned over to hug him. They clung together for several long moments before she lifted her head to look up at him. “Shane, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a husband. You’ve shown me the power of faith and love and I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have you.” She swallowed hard and swiped away her tears. “Your proposal is doubly precious. You probably don’t realize it, but today is my birthday.”

  “I knew,” he said, drawing her up to her feet. He kissed her, but before she could deepen the kiss, he lifted his head. Dazed, she jumped when she suddenly heard a loud “Surprise!”

  People poured into the living room holding balloons and streamers and a huge birthday cake.

  “How did you know?” she asked as Shane took the diamond engagement ring out and slipped it on her ring finger.

  “He looked it up on your driver’s license,” Nate said, grinning broadly. “Congrats!”

  She pulled Shane’s head down for another kiss, before turning to greet the rest of their guests.

  Apparently, life with Shane would never be dull. And surrounded by friends and family, she knew she belonged here with Shane. Home at last.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from PERSON OF INTEREST by Debby Giusti

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you so much for the wonderful emails and letters that you’ve sent regarding my SWAT: Top Cops–Love in the line of duty series. In the third book, Under the Lawman’s Protection, you met Leah’s brother, Shane Hawkins, who was working as an undercover police officer. You also briefly met Dr. Gabriella Fielding, the trauma surgeon who came out to the cabin to help save Shane’s life.

  Forgotten Memories is Shane and Gabby’s story. When Shane witnesses Gabby being abducted from outside the hospital parking lot, he doesn’t hesitate to risk his life in a daring attempt to save her. Gabby is willing to do her part, although she’s grateful for Shane’s assistance. As they try to find the key to unlock Gabby’s buried memories, both Shane and Gabby find a greater treasure: love.

  I hope you enjoy Shane and Gabby’s story. I very much enjoy hearing from my readers. If you’re interested in dropping me a brief note or signing up for my newsletter, please visit my website at laurascottbooks.com. I’m also on Facebook at Laura Scott Books and on Twitter @Laurascottbooks.

  Yours in faith,

  Laura Scott

  http://www.harlequin.com/harlequinexperience

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense story.

  You enjoy a dash of danger. Love Inspired Suspense stories feature strong heroes and heroines whose faith is central in solving mysteries and saving lives.

  Enjoy six new stories from Love Inspired Suspense every month!

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  Person of Interest

  by Debby Giusti

  ONE

  Natalie Frazier’s heart raced as she woke with a start and struggled to get her bearings. Blinking her way back to reality, she recognized the Joneses’ living room on post at Fort Rickman, Georgia, instead of her own apartment in nearby Freemont.

  Outside, wind tangled through the giant oaks. Branches creaked in the September night and scraped against the two-story brick quarters. The sound added to her unease as lightning flashed through the windows, followed by thunder that buffeted the house.

  She closed the book that lay open on her lap and hesitated, listening for the baby’s cry. Relieved that the little one hadn’t awakened, she placed the textbook on the coffee table. How to Manage the Middle School Classroom was required reading for her teaching degree and had undoubtedly lulled her to sleep.

  But what had awakened her?

  Natalie had accepted the two-week nanny position caring for Lieutenant Wanda Jones’s five-month-old daughter while Wanda was away for training, and she planned to use the time to catch up on her classwork.

  As prior military, with six years on active duty under her belt, Natalie was usually unfazed by new circumstances. Tonight was different.

  In hopes of calming her anxiety, she hurried into the foyer and insured the front door was locked before she stepped to the nearby window. Easing back the curtain, she stared for a long moment at the narrow, two-lane road that ran through the military housing area. A porch light from one of the duplexes across the street cast a yellow glow over the few cars parked at the curb.

  Dropping the curtain, she flexed her shoulders to allay the tension in her neck and padded across the hardwood floor to the kitchen. The sm
all, cozy room had seemed inviting this morning when she’d arrived. Wanda had coffee brewing and warm-from-the-oven cinnamon rolls to welcome her. The scent of the fresh brew and hot rolls had long since disappeared, leaving behind an emptiness that tugged at her heart. She and the baby were safe, yet something about the night was unsettling. Probably the darkness outside and the encroaching storm. Both caused her concern.

  Opening the door to the attached one-car garage, she stared into the interior, seeing only her small sedan. Convinced her imagination was playing tricks on her, she shut the door and slipped the chain lock in place before she flipped off the kitchen light and retraced her steps into the main living-dining room combination.

  She needed to check on Sofia. Natalie climbed the steep wooden stairway to the second floor and tiptoed into the nursery. The little one was asleep on her back, her cheeks plump and rosy.

  Wanda had been concerned about leaving. With her husband—Sofia’s father—deployed to the Middle East, the female lieutenant had weighed accepting a two-week school assignment at Fort Hood that was good for her military career but hard on a new mom forced to leave her infant daughter.

  Natalie and Wanda had been stationed together in Germany and had reconnected after Natalie had moved to nearby Freemont. Natalie was happy to help, and the arrangement would be good for both of them. Wanda needed child care, and Natalie wanted time to study away from her cramped apartment and moody roommate.

  Denise Lang had become increasingly irritable over the past two months. Natalie blamed her roommate’s new boyfriend, who insisted Denise keep their relationship under wraps. The secrecy was taking a toll on her and impacted her relationship with Natalie.

  Pulling the receiving blanket up around Sofia’s shoulders, Natalie smiled at the precious child and returned to the hallway on her way to the guest room. The sound of raised voices from the adjoining quarters next door stopped her at the top of the stairs.

  She should have asked Wanda about the neighbors. All she’d provided had been the woman’s first name and her phone number. Natalie didn’t even know the couple’s last name. Surely the bickering wasn’t a regular occurrence.

  Thunder rolled overhead, and rain drummed against the roof. The voices grew louder as the storm intensified. Although the shared wall between the two sets of quarters prevented Natalie from understanding what was said, the harsh tones signaled escalating conflict.

  A woman screamed.

  Something crashed against the wall.

  Natalie gasped and took a step back. Her pulse raced.

  Another crash and a second scream were followed by a series of thumps as if something—or someone—had fallen down the stairway.

  Heart in her throat, Natalie checked again to be certain Sofia was asleep before she ran downstairs and opened the front door. The storm had unleashed its fury with strong winds and torrential rain. Her voice of reason told her to stay dry and mind her own business, but her need to help overrode the warning.

  Ignoring the deluge, she raced next door and climbed the steps to the neighbor’s porch. In her haste, she slipped, then steadied herself and pounded on the door.

  “Is someone hurt?”

  Feeling exposed, she glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see the neighbors spilling from the quarters across the street. As loud as the woman’s scream had been, they should have heard her, as well. Another clap of thunder made her realize the woman’s cries had been masked by the storm.

  Again, Natalie knocked and raised her voice. “Do you need help?”

  The door remained closed.

  Envisioning a tragic scene inside, she hurried back to the Joneses’ quarters, wiped the rain from her face and reached for the phone. Her hands shook as she searched through the list of emergency numbers Wanda had left. Finding the military police, she tapped in the digits and waited impatiently for someone to answer, then explained the situation.

  “I’ll send a squad car,” the MP said.

  “Hurry.”

  * * *

  Everett Kohl shoved his travel toiletry kit into his duffel and zipped it shut with a smile. Tomorrow he’d be heading to North Georgia for two weeks of R&R and a chance to help Uncle Harry get his mountain cabin ready to put on the market to sell. Everett had half a notion to buy the place himself. But, first, he wanted to assess the structure and tend to the repairs that needed to be done.

  Much as he loved his uncle, Harry’s age and stubbornness could be a problem, especially since he was trading the North Georgia mountains for an assisted-living complex in the metro Atlanta area. The timing was right, but his uncle saw it as losing his independence and a way of life he had enjoyed for over eighty years. Everett hoped to soothe the transition and ease his uncle’s concerns about the change.

  Grateful the rain had stopped and the storm subsided, Everett whistled as he hurried to his SUV and threw his duffel in the rear. Nothing would delay him in the morning. He’d packed, filled his gas tank and was ready to lock up his bachelor officer’s quarters and drive north.

  Retracing his steps, he checked his watch. Almost midnight. He’d catch some shut-eye and rise before dawn to skirt the morning traffic in Atlanta, two hours north, on his way to the mountains.

  He entered his BOQ apartment just as his cell rang. Glancing at the screen, he saw Special Agent Frank Gallagher’s name displayed. The chief was out of town and Frank was in charge.

  “I’ve already signed out on leave,” Everett said in lieu of a greeting.

  “We’ve got an incident that needs your finesse.”

  “You say the nicest things, but buttering me up won’t work. The next trip I take will be out the front gate in the morning. I’ll wave as I pass CID Headquarters on my way off post.”

  “The military police just called with a heads-up. Someone reported hearing a domestic squabble at Mason Yates’s quarters.”

  Everett groaned inwardly and shoved the cell closer to his ear. Domestic violence was never pretty and especially troublesome when a fellow agent was involved. “I’m listening.”

  “A woman named Natalie Frazier heard arguing coming from the other side of her duplex and called in the report. I told the MP we’d check it out, but I can’t believe Mason would hurt his wife. If it’s bogus, we go home relieved that his name doesn’t end up on the commanding general’s desk tomorrow morning.”

  “We owe the MPs for contacting us.”

  “Exactly. Call me optimistic, but I’m hoping the neighbor’s imagination was working overtime due to the storm. If it’s a mistaken call, you’ll be home sawing logs before you can say ‘take care of our own’ three times.”

  “Give me the address, I’ll meet you there.”

  Frank provided the street and quarters number.

  “Didn’t Mason move into military housing a few weeks ago?” Everett remembered the newcomer talking about signing for quarters.

  “Three weeks to be exact. As I recall, his wife stayed with his sister in Decatur, Georgia, until quarters were available.”

  Everett had arrived at Fort Rickman six months earlier, so he wasn’t an old-timer on post. He and Frank had been stationed together years earlier, along with Special Agent Colby Voss, which had made his transition to Fort Rickman an easy one.

  Mason reported to post eight weeks ago. Since then, he had seemed withdrawn and less than willing to join in the office camaraderie that often relieved the stress of working long hours on felony cases for the military. Probably a loner by nature or maybe a bit aloof. That he outranked the other special agents might have bearing on his attitude, especially if he hoped to step into the chief’s shoes. Chief Agent-in-Charge Craig Wilson had led the CID office at Fort Rickman for nearly three years. Even if Uncle Sam considered him ready for a new assignment, no one wanted the chief to be reassigned.

  Mason was an unknown, which gave Everett pause.

  “I’m trusting this ends well,” he said in closing.

  “Agreed,” Frank added. “I’ll meet you there.”<
br />
  The housing area wasn’t far, and Everett was the first to arrive. He pulled to the curb and spotted headlights in his rearview mirror, then stepped out and waited for Frank.

  “The report came from that side of the duplex,” Frank pointed to Quarters A. “Let’s talk to Mason before we question the neighbor.” Frank was the lead on this call, with Everett along as another set of eyes if need be.

  Both agents climbed the front steps. Frank knocked on the door. “Special Agent Frank Gallagher, CID.” He glanced at Everett before adding. “Mason, it’s Frank. Everett’s with me. Everything okay?”

  He tapped the door again.

  Everett glanced at the duplex across the street. A light went on in an upstairs window.

  “I’ll check the rear.” Starting down the steps, he heard a door creak open and turned to find the neighbor in Quarters A standing backlit in her doorway.

  Long, shoulder-length black hair, slender build. Probably 110 to 115 pounds and five-four or five-five.

  She stepped onto the porch. Oval face, big eyes drawn with concern, her mouth angled downward in a frown.

  “We’re with the CID, ma’am. I’m Special Agent Kohl,” he said as introduction. “You called in the report?”

  She glanced at her watch. “About fifteen minutes ago. I haven’t heard anything since then.”

  “What did you hear earlier?”

  “Raised voices and two screams, followed by thumping, as if someone had fallen down the stairs.”

  Everett nodded. “Wait inside, ma’am. I’ll need more information after we make contact with the residents.”

  Walking through the wet grass, he rounded the house, flicking his gaze over the large side yard and the rear access road. Headlights signaled an approaching vehicle. A dark blue sedan screeched to a stop.