The sheriff heaved a great sigh and closed one eye, his head tilted, as though he couldn’t quite face Liam with the news full-on. “We got a preliminary DNA hit from a cigarette butt left on Emma’s porch. Struck me as odd, you know. She doesn’t smoke.”
The M-Vac forensic DNA collection system stored DNA coding for easy searches and matching. The system had revolutionized law enforcement. Guys who’d committed atrocities twenty years before were popping up on the radar to finally answer for their crimes. In the old days, getting the DNA match had taken weeks. These days, it took only a matter of hours for a preliminary search.
Liam gritted his teeth and nodded. “Who?”
“Maximo Reynosa’s first cousin, Juan Reynosa. He was picked up on a drug charge a couple years back. Made bail, then disappeared over the border again. That’s how he got his DNA in the system.”
Liam was afraid to look down for fear he’d see his hands were shaking. Reynosa was one of the most brutal cartel leaders in all of Mexico, and that was saying something.
“Okay,” he said, his voice as smooth as polished glass, exuding a confidence he didn’t feel. “If that’s the problem, then we work the problem.”
Keep it together. An itchy bead of sweat trickled down his neck. He was back in Dallas, standing before Swerve, denying he was a cop. The lie had come as naturally as a warm breeze on a spring day. The skill had served him well both then and now. He didn’t want the sheriff seeing how rattled he was by the information. Not after that dig about his interest in Emma.
Liam didn’t for a moment believe she’d gotten mixed up with Reynosa on purpose. Maybe she’d run across him while writing one of her articles. Maybe she’d written something Reynosa didn’t like. Liam didn’t suppose it mattered. The danger was here and now.
The sheriff jangled the change in his pocket. “You know what this means, don’t you? There’s a chance Reynosa is sending a message.”
“Yep. I get the picture.”
Liam recognized the same icy fear he’d felt staring down the barrel of Swerve’s shaking pistol. There were some moments in a guy’s life when he recognized that nothing was ever going to be the same.
If Maximo Reynosa was sending Emma a message, then she didn’t have long to live.
* * *
The noises surrounding Emma were hushed and peaceful. Above her, a canopy of leaves spread dappled sunlight over a bed of pine needles. The air was warm, the breeze spring-scented. Voices from the campsite sounded in the distance along with the occasional burst of raucous laughter. Camping wasn’t her favorite activity, but her new stepdad was an avid outdoorsman. Her mom wanted the two families to “bond.” Whatever that meant.
Mom was determined that Emma and her new stepbrother get to know each other. Neither had been particularly interested. No one had asked Emma whether or not she wanted a new family, and yet she was expected to welcome these people into her life with open arms. Fat chance. She already had a dad, and he was dead. She didn’t want a replacement. She wanted her real dad back.
Jordan snatched her hand. “C’mon,” her new stepbrother urged. “Let’s go to the lake. My dad says I can’t go alone.”
She yanked her arm away. “No.”
“You’re a chicken, aren’t you? I bet you can’t swim. I bet you’re scared of the water.”
A rare flash of insight caught her off guard. Jordan didn’t want a sister any more than she wanted a brother. He was angry at the situation, something they had in common. She’d been too wrapped up in her own self-pity to realize he was suffering, too.
This was her chance to bridge the distance, to make things better between them. If she handed him an olive branch, he’d forget about the lake and turn back toward the campsite.
“I can swim better than you any day,” she snapped.
“Prove it, Emma.”
He took off first, gaining the head start. Together they ran, their bare feet flying over the dirt. He stopped suddenly, and she skidded into his back, pushing him forward. Her brief flash of empathy long forgotten, she elbowed her way around him. He’d cheated her for the win.
He stumbled and turned, his face pale. “We’re going to be in so much trouble.”
The scene changed, and she was standing in an empty ballroom. A figure appeared before her, his features blurred. He beckoned her to join him. As though pulled by an invisible string, she took a cautious step. She knew him. His name balanced on the tip of her tongue. There was no reason to be afraid.
She took another step. He lifted his arm and aimed a gun at her head. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came.
He pulled the trigger. In a flash of light, the bullet struck her in the head, propelling her backward. She was falling and falling, the windows above her collapsing inward. Shattered glass settled over her like a shroud.
She didn’t feel pain, only betrayal. The man stood over her, and she managed to speak. “I trusted you.”
Emma woke with a gasp, a fine sheen of perspiration coating her skin. Her heart boomed painfully in her chest. The dream was important. It meant something. There were details from her past imbedded in the images. She fumbled for her bedside phone and the card the deputy had left. He’d urged her to call him if she remembered anything, and she had to speak with him while the dream was fresh in her mind.
The line rang three times before a mumbled, “McCourt,” sounded.
“I have a stepbrother,” she blurted. “His name is...his name is... Jordan. My mom married his dad the year I turned ten. We went camping together one summer. Something happened. We got in trouble. I don’t know what it was, but it was bad.”
I bet you’re scared...
Whatever happened that day had changed them both. We’re going to be in so much trouble. The tick-tick-tick was trying to force her back, but this time she wasn’t giving in.
“Jordan Harris,” Liam said.
Searing pain splintered through her skull.
“What?” she managed to gasp.
“Your stepbrother’s name is Jordan Harris. He works for—”
“The Department of Defense.” A lava-spewing fissure cracked open in her brain, and an island of memories began to form. “I remember! He’s always overseas. I think he’s in China or something.”
She and Jordan had stared daggers at each other across the aisle during their parents’ wedding. Despite everyone’s best efforts, nothing had bridged the distance. The camping trip had brought about a short-lived truce, but whatever they’d done that day had eventually driven them further apart. She was certain of it.
A thump sounded in her ear, as though Liam had dropped his phone.
“He works in the Middle East,” the deputy said, his voice muffled and distant. “I’ve got some notes here. Iran or Iraq. The Department of Defense wasn’t exactly forthcoming. They also said it could be a week or more before they can get a message to him. I’m sorry. I pushed. They know it’s important. They’re apologetic. It’s classified. You get the picture. Whatever your brother does for the Department of Defense, it’s not something they’re willing to share.”
Even when she finally remembered something, she was still playing catch up, and her temper flared.
She was heartily sick of everyone else having the jump on her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Sorry. I only just found out myself. Got a call from some lady at the Department of Defense right before bed. Thought I’d wait until morning before I briefed you.”
She glanced at the clock and gasped. “It’s 3:00 a.m.!”
“Yep.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her gaze darted around the darkened room. What was wrong with her? This impulsiveness felt out of character, but she wasn’t certain of anything. Not anymore. “I, uh, I had a dream. I didn’t realize what time it was. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
“Don’t worry ab
out it. As long as I have you on the phone, I got a hold of your publisher. I can tell you everything tonight or I can wait until tomorrow.”
Feeling only a brief stab of guilt, she said, “Why don’t you give me the abbreviated version.”
A few extra minutes awake wasn’t going to hurt either of them at this point. Her past was returning, and she was anxious for more information. A bridge to whatever had set off this dangerous chain of events.
“No problem,” Liam said. “Your next release is about the Lonestar State Killer. It’s the first book you’ve written about a killer who’s still at large, but you didn’t name a suspect. You speculated the killer was former military. That’s a pretty big pool of people. It’s too vague to panic anyone.”
Unforgotten.
The word was important.
There was something elusively familiar about his description of the book. A puzzle, though she wasn’t quite certain of the picture she was trying to piece together. “All right. That’s something.”
“You haven’t gotten any death threats. You did get a marriage proposal from some guy in Norway. He saw your picture on the back cover of a book and thought you’d be perfect for each other. He was insistent. That’s when you hired a company to wipe your personal information, like family connections and addresses, from the internet. Most people don’t realize how many layers deep you have to go to keep something as simple as your address from showing up on common search engines.”
“Oh my.”
“Don’t worry. He turned out to be harmless.” Papers rustled in the background. “Not to mention he’s still in Norway. I checked. You and your editor don’t talk much about your personal lives. She mentioned you’d gotten a lucrative contract on the movie rights to your bestseller. She thinks you might have some family money too. You don’t have kids. We knew that. She said you joked about your lack of a dating life the last time you spoke. That was a week ago. Unless something crazy happened between now and then, I’m guessing you’re not seeing anyone.”
Relief shuddered through her. “That makes me feel somewhat better, I suppose. I’d like to think that if I was dating someone, they’d be looking for me by now.”
At least she didn’t have to feel guilty about her unexpected attraction to the deputy. There was no boyfriend waiting in the wings when her memory returned completely. The spaces were filling in even though there were still enormous sinkholes she kept tripping into. At least the doctor had warned her this might happen.
“If they’re not already, people are going to be very worried about you very soon, Emma,” Liam said, lowering his voice and forcing her to press the phone closer to her ear. “Near as I can tell, no one was expecting to hear from you for several days. You were finishing up your book. There were a bunch of papers in your car, and you’d packed for an overnight somewhere. Your editor mentioned that you sometimes rent a hotel room right before a deadline for a marathon writing weekend. Which probably explains why no one has called in a welfare check yet. They’re used to you going off the grid for periods of time.”
She knew she had friends, though she couldn’t explain why she was certain. The memories often started with a feeling before transforming into full-fledged recollections. Yet she couldn’t shake a nagging sensation that she needed to get in touch with someone.
She’d reached for her phone a hundred times over the past few days only to find it gone, her muscle memory annoyingly intact. The habit assured her she was accustomed to keeping in contact with people.
“Okay.” She’d started to think she was a crazy hermit with no friends. Turned out, she was actually a crazy hermit because of a deadline. That felt somewhat better. “Maybe it’s a blessing that no one is worried yet. Maybe I’ll have my memory back by the time they do.”
A warm sliver of light showed beneath her door. The sheriff was keeping watch tonight. Earlier she’d caught him balling up pieces of day-old newspaper and lobbing them into the trash bin.
She tilted her head for a better look. His shadow wasn’t there, but she wasn’t worried. Sometimes he walked the corridor to stretch his legs. He was only a few feet away, and yet that same gut instinct she’d felt after the car accident had urged her to call the deputy first.
Liam muttered something. “You mentioned a—” the word stretched around his obvious yawn “—dream. Did you remember something else?”
Her impressions were already fracturing and fading, and she grasped for the dissolving pictures. “Kind of.”
The dream had started with a memory. The images were crisper and the feelings more like echoes. The second part, the man in the shadows, had felt different—hazy and unfocused. That portion of the dream had been symbolic. Not to mention they’d done enough tests to know if she’d been shot before. The shattered glass settling around her had felt like rain. Someone had betrayed her—but who? If only she’d been able to see the man’s face.
Her head throbbed. I trusted you.
Trusting the wrong person had nearly gotten her killed. Her breath seized.
Without her memory, how did she know she wasn’t making the same mistake again?
SIX
Emma stood, her gaze drawn to the window.
“You still there?” Liam nudged her back into awareness. “Everything okay?”
Had the figure been Jordan?
She didn’t think so, but she wasn’t certain. Jordan was real, that much she knew. Other feelings surrounded him, crowding together in a jumbled heap. As the past came rushing back, she felt as though she was drowning. While she craved the memories, they were materializing too fast, leaving her confused and disoriented.
She started to tell Liam about the dream, then stopped herself. Everything had seemed crystal clear before, but even rehearsing the words sounded ridiculous. She’d had a dream, and Liam still knew more about her life than she did.
“Everything’s fine,” she said, gripping the phone. She didn’t need him rushing to the hospital at 3:00 a.m. because she was falling apart over a stupid dream. “The whole thing sounds dumb now that I’m saying the words out loud.”
“Nothing is dumb. I’m not discounting anything. Even the smallest detail is significant.”
“I’m pretty sure this is dumb.”
“Look, if it helps, I was dreaming the Georgia Bulldogs were playing the Texas Longhorns in the Sugar Bowl. The teams were wearing the wrong uniforms. I kept yelling at the TV for everyone to change clothes. I don’t see how your dream could be more ridiculous than that.”
His confession earned a reluctant grin. “Okay. Here it goes. I was camping with my stepbrother. He challenged me, and I... I don’t know how to explain it. I could have been nice to him, but I wasn’t. We must have gotten into trouble, because in the dream, I knew if I hadn’t been a jerk, everything would be different between us. I should have been nice to him, but I wasn’t. There.” She covered her guilt with a giddy burst of laughter. “Now you know the truth. I was a jerk as a kid.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you’re not special. All kids are jerks at some point or another.”
Grateful they were speaking on the phone and not in person, she covered her burning eyes with one hand. The shame was familiar, as though she’d been carrying a heavy burden for a very, very long time. And yet, just like that, with one simple sentence, Liam had absolved her of the crushing guilt.
An enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
She’d been a jerk. Yes. But Jordan hadn’t been completely innocent, either.
“I suppose you’re right,” she conceded, another memory bubbling through the fissure. “Jordan used to parachute my Barbie dolls off the garage roof.”
“See? Kids. That’s what I’m talking about.”
“You’re very perceptive.” She decided against telling him about the second part of the dream. There was nothing of substance to tell. “You
must have had a brother or a sister growing up.”
Liam coughed. “About your dream, do you think it has anything to do with what’s happening now?”
Remorse stabbed at her resolve. So much for learning a little about his personal life. The deputy was always kind and considerate, but more and more she realized there was a part of himself he kept hidden. A big part. She wanted to riddle him out the same way she wanted to puzzle out her memory.
“I don’t think the dream is relevant,” she conceded. The false excitement was wearing off, leaving her drained. She was annoyed with herself for waking him with something this inconsequential. “We were kids. It was a long time ago. I shouldn’t have bothered you. It was just a dream. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Great. He was probably regretting ever taking this case even more. She’d been in the hospital nearly three days, and she’d seen other patients come and go in that time. They’d all had visitors. Not her. She’d called Liam because she didn’t have anyone else to call.
The island of memory forming around Jordan was merging into a continent, bringing a sense of overwhelming sorrow. Her stepbrother loved her, but they’d never gotten along well. Their parents had been their only connection, and when her mom passed away, that connection had frayed. Jordan’s work was his life, and he wouldn’t appreciate being called away from something important because of her.
That was a detail from her life she suddenly remembered vividly—Jordan’s work was always important.
“He won’t come,” she said. “Don’t bother.”
“Who won’t come?” Liam asked.
“Jordan won’t come. We don’t get along.” The past rumbled over her like a freight train, leaving her emotions bruised and battered. Reliving her life was exhausting. “We argued the last time we spoke. It was about something stupid.” Echoes of feelings reverberated through her chest. She’d never realized how closely memories and emotions were tied. “You can tell your contact at the Department of Defense not to bother tracking him down.”
Killer Amnesia: Faith In The Face 0f Crime Page 7
