“I’ve got it covered,” Toby said. “If Trent and Clay are chasing the shooter, he’s not aiming this way anymore.”
“We’ve got cops from neighboring towns that are here and the two FBI agents jumped into the fray, as well. Guess that’s one advantage to having them here.” He shot them a tight smile and took Brenda’s upper arm in a gentle grip. “Come on, let’s get you and the baby to the station. James is worried sick.” To Robin, he said, “Be sure you see Joshua soon. We’ve also got two ambulances out here and more on the way.”
“Was anyone else hurt?” she asked.
“Looks like Ginger took a bullet to the upper shoulder and Harold had a graze across his forehead, but no one was killed.”
“Oh, thank you,” Robin breathed. She raised a shaky hand to shove stray hairs behind her ear.
Once Lance and Brenda were gone, Toby turned to Robin and she let out a breathy sob. He grasped her hands. “You’ve got some cuts on your face that need to be checked out.”
He led her around the side of the building, keeping an eye on the surroundings. Clay and Trent may be after the shooter, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t double back in hopes of finishing the job.
But all was clear. Chaos to be sure, but no more bullets were flying. And Toby had managed to keep Robin from dying. Unlike the last time he’d been in a shootout with a woman he’d cared about. He put that memory into the back of his mind and concentrated on locating a paramedic who could take a look at Robin’s face.
“This way,” he said and led her to the closest ambulance. “Marcus, can you help us out?”
The young man turned and sized up the situation in the time it took to blink. He motioned to the back of the ambulance. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”
Toby left Robin in the man’s capable hands while he scanned the scene. The café’s patrons were busy talking to officers, each other or getting medical care. And in the distance he saw a familiar face. Toby lifted a hand to snag the man’s attention. “Oliver!”
The special agent paused, caught Toby’s eye, then jogged over. Oliver clasped him in a man hug. “Toby, you’re all right. I saw this craziness and had to make sure you were okay.”
“We’re fine. The café’s going to need a lot of help, but thankfully no one was killed.”
“Man, I can’t believe this.” Oliver shook his head and let his eyes rove the area in a manner very similar to what Toby had done just moments before. “It doesn’t matter where it happens, it all looks the same.”
“Yeah.” He led Oliver to the back of the ambulance and winced when he saw Robin. The blood was gone, but the damage was visible. “Oliver, this is Robin. Robin, meet one of my best friends.”
Oliver eyed the butterfly bandages on her cheeks and forehead. “That looks like it might be painful.”
“It’s from the glass that shattered with the first bullet,” she said. “According to Marcus here, it’s mostly superficial and no stitches needed. I’ll heal. I’m just glad it didn’t get me in the eyes.”
“That would have been awful.” Oliver turned to Toby. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Yeah. We’ll have to give a statement, but I’ll get Clay to come to the B&B to get it.” Toby glanced at Oliver. “Can you make sure it’s safe to head over there?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be right back.” Oliver took off. Ten minutes later, he returned. “All looks quiet. He wasn’t on the B&B property but the roof of the hardware store two doors down. You should be good to go.”
“Thanks,” Toby said. He turned to Robin. “Follow me.” He kept a tight grip on her arm as he helped her out of the ambulance. “I’ll see if Joshua can make a house call, as well.”
“I don’t need him to do that. I’ll be fine. Sore, but fine.”
“We’ll see.”
She jerked from his grip and shot him a glare. “I’m not a child.”
Oliver raised a brow and stepped back. Toby felt the heat grow from his toes to his ears in under a second. “I know you’re not a child.” He grimaced. “But I can see how it sounded like I was treating you like one. I’m sorry.”
Robin’s cheeks went pink. “No, I am. I’m touchy and grumpy.”
“I’d say you have every right to be,” Oliver murmured.
She sighed. “I’ll see Joshua if I think I need to. Otherwise, let’s get the statement done and see if I can press my brain into dredging up more memories.”
Toby nodded, glad she had such a forgiving heart. Because the more memories she dredged up, the more forgiveness he was probably going to need.
* * *
Robin settled herself at the table with a bottle of water, a notepad and a pen. She wrote out everything she remembered about the shooting at the diner, which was mostly pain and fear. She’d never seen the shooter and doubted her statement would be much help, but within ten minutes, it was done and she was ready for some ibuprofen. Her cheek throbbed, the cuts along her jaw stung and her shoulder ached from Toby’s tackle to the floor. At least her head wasn’t pounding too awfully hard. She’d take her blessings where she could get them.
With a sigh, Robin pushed the paper to the middle of the table, debating what to do next. Leaving was an option, of course, but the people after her were more sophisticated than she’d originally given them credit for. Somehow, in spite of Toby and Amber’s careful maneuvering, they’d been tracked to Wrangler’s Corner.
She rubbed her eyes. The fire. She remembered it clearly now. And the arguing. She could hear the men yelling.
Pop, pop, pop.
She jerked straight up. Shooting? Had that been the night of the fire or was she remembering the most recent incident?
Hands grabbing folders. She could see the hands. Definitely a man’s hands and he’d stolen Alan’s work.
Then turned—
A light rap on the door snapped her attention back to the present and she stood. Lance stepped into the kitchen followed by one of the FBI agents who’d been by yesterday. “Special Agent Young,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
Lance cleared his throat. “He insisted on seeing you. But promised to leave if things get too...intense for you. Is that okay?”
“Yes, of course. Have a seat,” she said.
Once Young was seated across from her, Lance crossed his arms. “If you need him to leave, just let me know. They’ve already agreed to give you some space and time so I’m not sure why he’s here.”
“It’s okay, Lance, I can handle it.” She hoped. But the truth was, as much as she appreciated Toby and everyone’s help and determination to protect her, the resolution to his case—the lab explosion, the deaths of Alan Roberts and the other man, everything—rested with her.
“I’ll explain,” Young said.
“Go ahead.” She briefly wondered if she should have Toby and Oliver sit in on the conversation in spite of her determination to be proactive going forward, but didn’t want to disturb them if she didn’t have to. She could do this.
He cleared his throat. “Thank you. And yes, Deputy Goode is correct. We agreed to let Toby work with you on remembering, but I wanted to make it clear that we have the best doctors at our disposal. If you’d be willing to talk to one of them, see if some of their techniques would work in helping you remember, we’d have one here ASAP.”
Robin bit her lip. She hadn’t considered going to see another doctor. Both the neurosurgeon and Joshua had seemed to think time, rest and healing would do it. Eventually. But because of the circumstances surrounding her amnesia, she supposed those investigating the explosion and murders wanted to speed things up a bit. And everything seemed to hinge upon her memory. “The person who killed Alan and the other man...”
Special Agent Young leaned forward. “Yes?”
“I think he stole some files. I remember the fire, the flames, the heat. And I remember se
eing someone snatch a stack of files from Alan’s workstation. I can see his hands, but I can’t...” She sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I just can’t bring his face into focus.”
“What’s going on in here?” Toby asked from the doorway.
Robin gave him a tight smile, irritated at his interruption. “I’m just trying to remember.” She spotted Oliver standing behind Toby’s right shoulder.
Toby’s frosty glare settled on Special Agent Young. “I thought we had an agreement.”
“We did, but we need answers, Toby.” He raked a hand through his dark hair. “We’ve got a big bunch of nothing including a dead guy that could have been our biggest lead. And then there’s the guy who keeps trying to kill Robin.” He narrowed his gaze. “You know as well as I do that the sooner she remembers, the sooner she’s safe.”
“I want her to remember. I just don’t want her pressured to the point that it’s so stressful you do more harm than good.”
Special Agent Young sighed. “I don’t want that either. That’s why I’m recommending the doctors.”
“No,” Robin said. Everyone in the kitchen went still. “I appreciate everyone’s concern, but the fact is I’m remembering more every day. I think if you just let me do this on my own, I will. If your doctors come here, there’s a chance they could be shot at or blown up or...or...something. I’m a little dangerous to be around these days.” Her frustration rang clear, and the men looked at one another.
Special Agent Young rubbed his eyes. “Look, can you just start at the beg—”
“No,” Oliver said as he stepped around Toby and into the kitchen. “Toby’s right. Don’t push her.”
The agent’s jaw tightened. “What are you doing here, Manning?”
“Same thing you are. Just in a more unofficial capacity. Ben was my friend, too.”
“This is our case now.” The special agent stood. “Leave it alone.”
Oliver shrugged. “Leave her alone. For now.”
“Excuse me,” Robin bit out. She stood. “I think everyone needs to stop trying to decide what’s best for me and let me decide that.” Her words snapped through the air and silence reigned. “Thank you. Now.” She turned her attention to Special Agent Young. “I’ll consider seeing one of the doctors. Give me a little time to think about it. It’s not a bad idea, and I promise to consider it.”
Young pursed his lips, then stood. “All right. Thank you for thinking about it.” He hesitated. “Will you at least keep me updated on what you’re remembering?”
“Of course.”
Young nodded and slipped out the door.
“So,” Robin said, “what do you guys want for dinner?”
Toby blinked, then chuckled. “I think we’ll let you decide that.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve decided that you can have some input.”
“What are the options?”
Robin opened the freezer. “Wow. It’s well stocked. I’d say chicken or some kind of casserole. There’s also a beef stew and rice with a side of garlic bread. What suits you?”
Toby shut the freezer and gently guided her out of the kitchen, down the hall and to her bedroom. He opened the door and motioned for her to enter. She did and turned to face him. “What?”
“Look, Robin, I appreciate your desire to do everything you can to remember. I also appreciate the fact that you want to take charge of your situation and the fact you have this never-quit attitude, but you’re hurt. You’ve been bombed out of your lab, smoked out of your home, chased through the woods, shot at while trying to enjoy a simple meal and grilled by an FBI agent.”
“He was actually very pleasant.”
“Good, I’m glad, but you need to heal. Now, I don’t want to do anything that’s going to seem like I’m treating you like a child—”
“Like sending me to my room?”
He dropped his head for a moment, then heaved a sigh. “I’m not sending you to your room. I’m simply suggesting that you need some time to recover. Today was traumatic and scary and...hard. On everyone.”
At his compassion, his gentle caring, the walls around her heart cracked, and the wall holding back her fear and tears crumbled to dust. “It was scary,” she whispered. “It was awful.” Tears tracked her cheeks, and he pulled her against him and rested his chin on the top of her head.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought it would be okay to go there with all of us surrounding you, that there would be safety in numbers. I thought I could keep you safe.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said. “It’s not anyone’s fault but the person trying to kill me. And you did keep me safe. And other people there, too. But...”
“But what?”
“I can’t put other people in danger. I think today was a clear example that I have to stay under the radar and hide away from the innocents who might wind up being collateral damage until this is over.”
“I agree.”
She nodded against his shoulder. Fatigue pulled at her. Her heart pounded at the comfort she drew from being in his arms before a memory shattered her calm.
How could you?
Robin stilled as she recalled the words she’d thrown at the man holding her. How could you do this? I thought you were my friend!
A gasp slipped from her. “Did we have an argument?”
He tensed and dropped his arms to cup her elbows. “What makes you ask that?”
“I’m not sure. I just had a memory of me yelling at you.”
Toby frowned. “Yelling what?”
“I wanted to know how you could do...something. And that I thought you were my friend. What did I mean by that? What were we arguing about?”
* * *
Toby closed his eyes and quickly ran through a variety of answers that he could give her that wouldn’t be outright lies. “Yes, we argued.”
“About?”
“I... I want to tell you, but I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I think you should remember it on your own. If I nudge your memories, you may think you remember something, but you don’t really. You’ll be influenced by what I tell you.”
“But if I was mad at you about something, I think I should know what.”
Toby cupped her chin and stared into the eyes that he was already halfway in love with. He refused to lie to her. Simply didn’t have it in him. “Yes. I think you should, too, but I also think we should just give your mind some more time to remember on its own.”
If he told her now, she’d push him away faster than he could blink and then be at the mercy of the two agents—and a killer. “Look, I promise that I have nothing but your best interests at heart. I want to protect you. I want to put an end to all the craziness, but I just don’t want to tell you right now.”
She frowned and swiped a tear from her cheek as she searched his eyes. “I’m not sure I like that, but okay. I guess. Because I trust you.”
Those last four words pierced his heart, and his guilt flooded him. It was all Toby could do not to blurt out the truth and get on his knees to beg her forgiveness. But that would come in time. If she even gave him a chance to beg. “Please, Robin, just rest. You might even wake up and remember the argument. If you do, come to me and we’ll talk about it.” He gave a light shrug. “All friends argue every once in a while.”
It was the truth. And it was the best he could come up with without flat-out lying to her.
She sighed and pressed a hand to her head. “I think you’re right. I need to lie down.”
“Go. Let me handle this.”
She started to turn, then spun back to face him. “Why?” she whispered. “Why does it matter so much to you? Why are you putting yourself—your life—on the line for me? You could just dump me somewhere or let the FBI agents haul me off to question me. But you’re stepping i
nto the gap for me. Not that I don’t appreciate it because I do. Very much. But why?”
Toby paused. Connected his gaze with hers—and, again, frantically searched for an answer that wasn’t a lie. “Before the explosion, we were friends, Robin. Good friends. Honestly, everything I’m doing is simply because I care about you. Bottom line is I want you safe, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens. You don’t deserve any of this. And...”
“And?”
“I failed once to keep someone I cared about safe. I don’t want to fail again,” he said softly.
She blinked. “What do you mean, you failed?”
He hesitated, then nodded to the sitting room at the end of the hall. “This may take a few minutes. You want to hear it now or lie down for a while first?”
“Now. Please.”
Once they were seated, he cleared his throat. “Oliver and I have been friends for a long time. He was married to Debra. At some point during their marriage, Debra started accusing him of cheating on her.”
She winced. “Was he?”
“No. Not at all.” He swiped a hand over his face, hating the memories of that day, but Robin deserved to know. Truthfully, she deserved to know everything he could tell her—including their past relationship. And he’d tell her if he didn’t think she would shut him out of her life and leave herself an easy target for the killer after her. So for now, he’d tell her what he could.
His mind went back to that time of sorrow and grief and he wished he could change the past. Or forget it. Some days he thought he’d welcome a case of amnesia himself. Remembering hurt.
“Oliver used to do a lot of undercover stuff,” he said. “Debra called me to their house one morning, crying, yelling that she couldn’t get ahold of Oliver. I couldn’t either, but I knew he was working on a case so I went over and tried to calm her down. She was behaving so out of character that it scared me. I worked hard to convince Deb that he was working, not meeting anyone and that he would be home later to talk to her. But she wasn’t buying it. She wanted to know where he was.”
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