Fatal Memories

by Tanya Stowe

  “You’re going to sit in the wheelchair. The hospital won’t let you leave without it.” Dylan tried to sound firm, not to let a twinge of regret echo in his tone. Was he really that sorry she was leaving his arms? If that were true, he was in dangerous territory. Joss was suspect in his mind. He couldn’t afford to be swayed by his attraction...or her need. Finding the truth was all that mattered.

  The aide came in the door with the chair. Dylan eased Joss into it and the young woman adjusted the footrests. As she took the handles and pushed toward the door, Holmquist grasped Dylan’s arm and held him back.

  As soon as Joss was out the door, Dylan turned to face the older man. “Look, I’m not comfortable with the fact that she’s becoming so attached to me. But what can I do about it? She needs something familiar to hang onto and that seems to be me.”

  Holmquist’s gaze narrowed. “She can hang onto you for now. I’m just making sure you don’t do the same. I know you think she’s guilty. What kind of a mess will you be creating if this—” he circled his finger around the room “—thing between you two continues?”

  “What do you want me to do? Tell her I think she was involved with the gang? She already doubts herself and questions why she was in that tunnel. I need to push, but I’m not going to shove her over the edge.”

  Holmquist hooked his thumbs in his gun belt. “Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better. You want her to convict herself.”

  “I want the truth, Holmquist. You should too.”

  The man looked away and shook his head. “Oh, I do. And I’m convinced the truth will prove Joss innocent. What I’m concerned about is getting my agent back when all this is said and done. I don’t want her broken so badly she can’t return.”

  “And you think I’ll be responsible for ‘breaking’ her?”

  “You tell me, Murphy. Her brother’s missing...maybe dead. Some kind of spark obviously exists between you two. It was there before the cave-in.”

  Dylan was surprised. He wouldn’t have called it a spark. He didn’t allow “sparks” in his life. Only level-headed relationships where they both knew his work came first. He and Joss had a connection, sure, that was obvious. He was attracted to her. But he’d stomped on those feelings when he had begun to suspect she was covering up something.

  “You’re the only person in the world she trusts right now. She doesn’t even trust herself, and you’re determined to prove she’s guilty. What should I think?”

  He opened his mouth to reassure Holmquist...and then paused. His reaction to Joss moments ago had shaken his conviction. To deny something unusual had happened would be a lie. He had overstepped his own line. Had he already gone too far? Was he on a path of no return?

  He released a slow breath. “Let’s hope going home will trigger her memory so we can find the answers we all need.”

  * * *

  Joss’s head was beginning to throb. Even with the vehicle’s air-conditioning blasting, she was hot and sweaty. Moving fifty miles an hour down the street, in a police car, caused the sights to blur when she tried to focus.

  Small, beige pueblo-style houses with dirt yards looked like they’d been built in the fifties. Miracle Mile with its fifties-style motor hotels, wide-open courts and old-fashioned fluorescent signs. Slowly they gave way to strip malls. Nicer restaurants. Tall palm trees waved in the air, and squat ones grew in pointy clumps. Saguaros with their lifelike arms pointing up in the air. Oleanders bloomed with white, red and purple flowers. Five lanes of black asphalt wound straight ahead, far into the cloud-filled skies. Dark gray, the puffy billows tumbled over each other, threatening rain.

  August in Tucson. Monsoon season. Storms rumbled up from the Gulf of California. She could remember the historical district of Miracle Mile and monsoons, but not one single thing about herself. She couldn’t recall the most important aspects of her own life. They’d disappeared into the gray mist.

  Thunder boomed and she jumped.

  “You okay?” Dylan sat beside her.

  “I don’t like storms.”

  “Do you know why?”

  She shook her head. Another thing she didn’t remember.

  Thunder rumbled again and she gripped Dylan’s hand.

  He lowered his voice. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  The sky emptied. Rain poured down in buckets and fell on the street so hard, it bounced. Great sheets of blinding water slid off the windshield.

  “Whoa.” The driver of the cruiser slowed almost to a crawl. Up ahead, a streetlight turned from red to green. The driver accelerated ever so slowly. Out of the corner of her eye, Joss caught movement and looked up. A car was speeding toward them, so close all she could see was the license plate. She screamed.

  The driver yelled something and hit the gas. The car leaped forward but not far enough. The oncoming car hit the left fender of the cruiser.

  The car went into a spin in the middle of the intersection. The driver whipped the steering wheel in the direction of the turn, struggling to keep them from overturning. That was the last thing she saw.

  The spinning was too much for her. She closed her eyes. Dylan’s arm painfully pressed against her waist, pushing her into the seat.

  At long last the spinning began to slow. They came to a stop in the middle of the intersection. No one made a sound for a full minute. Joss opened her eyes.

  The driver looked around in stunned amazement. “Everyone all right?”

  Dylan leaned toward her. “Joss?”

  She nodded. “I will be when my head stops spinning.”

  “I can’t believe another vehicle didn’t hit us. We’re smack dab in the middle of the busiest street in Tucson.” The driver was stunned.

  “That’s thanks to you, Officer. You saved our lives.” Dylan’s gaze jumped around. “Do you see the other car?”

  “I saw it bounce off us, onto the curb and drive off. A hit-and-run. The rain must have blurred the driver’s vision and he couldn’t stop in time.”

  Dylan gave a shake of his head. “I’m not so sure.”

  “You think it wasn’t an accident?” His words frightened Joss.

  Dylan started to answer. He was turned her way as he spoke, and suddenly he grabbed for his gun holster and flipped up the cover. The gun was out and pointed toward someone running up to the car.

  The driver lifted his hand. “It’s okay. It’s the officer from the car behind us.”

  Joss turned. She could see his vehicle parked not far from theirs, with its blue lights flashing. He ran to the window.

  “Everybody okay?”

  The driver rolled down their window. “Yeah. Just shaken up. I can’t believe no one hit us.”

  Rain dripped off the lip of the man’s cap. “I was able to get into the intersection and turn on my lights. I think that caught everyone’s attention and gave them time to stop. But it was close.”

  “Did you get a good look at the car?” Dylan’s tone was tense.

  The officer looked at them. “Yes. I did. Older white Camry. The driver was a male with a baseball cap pulled low. I didn’t get a good look at his face or the license plate. It happened too fast. I almost gave chase but this is a transport and it’s more important to get our person delivered safely. I did report it before I came to check on you.”

  Even as he spoke, a siren echoed in the distance.

  The driver turned to Dylan. “What do you want us to do? Return to the hospital or get to our destination?”

  Dylan glanced at Joss. “Let’s get her home safely. Hopefully another patrol car can catch our hit-and-run driver.”

  The officer jogged to his car, splashing through puddles in the middle of the intersection. Their driver rolled up his window and put the car in gear. Thankfully the vehicle moved into motion without a hitch.

  Dylan squeezed her arm. Joss closed her eyes, willin
g the vertigo to ease. But it didn’t. They were less than five minutes away from her apartment complex. They pulled into the parking lot. Beyond grass-covered hills, three-story buildings rose into the sky. As soon as the car came to a stop, Dylan helped her out. The vertigo had her spinning so much, he practically carried her across the grass, with the rain pounding on them.

  By the time they climbed the two stories of stairs, her breath came in short, difficult gasps. A deputy pointed to the left. She turned a corner, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and leaned into Dylan. A dark brown door loomed in front of her. Holmquist opened it.

  He frowned. “I heard about the hit-and-run. How are you?”

  Joss didn’t answer. Dylan squeezed her arm. “She’s shaken up. Any sign of the car that hit us?”

  Holmquist shook his head. “Not one, and we’ve got police cruisers on every street.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that.” Dylan gripped her arm tighter.

  “Me neither. If it was a normal hit-and-run and the police units were that close, someone would have seen something. Since it just disappeared...”

  “Sounds like another setup.”

  The men continued to talk, but Joss lost the thread of their conversation. Her eyes adjusted to the dark interior. A smell wafted over her. What was it? Dusty. Stuffy from being closed? Not a smell she recognized.

  The apartment opened to a small kitchenette on the right. Four stools under a bar/counter. Black marble countertop. To the left a large bathroom. She peeked inside and glimpsed a connecting closet that opened into a bedroom. In front of her, a patio. Brightly colored pots with leafless branches sticking straight up. Obviously she killed living things.

  Beside the couch, labeled boxes sat stacked on top of each other. One was labeled High School, the other Documents. She chewed her lip, then finally turned to Holmquist. “How long have I lived here?”

  The men stopped talking and turned to her.

  “About six months.”

  “But I still have boxes?”

  Holmquist paused. “You work a lot. Devote yourself to the job.”

  “Obviously.” Why was she disappointed? Because nothing jogged her memories? Because this place held no traces of home...of a life well lived? Or because that ticking clock, warning her of danger, continued its constant clanging in her head?

  Her discomfort must have shown, because Holmquist said, “You’re a good agent.”

  Now her smile was rueful. “So they tell me.”

  Dylan gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. Not even that helped.

  Holmquist cleared his throat. “Jenny sent over some soup and stocked the fridge.”

  Jenny. Who was she? Obviously Joss’s features looked as blank as her mind, because he added, “Jenny. Your friend.”

  Still blank.

  Holmquist looked away. “She’s the blonde agent. She came to see you in the hospital that first day. You two went to the academy together. You were roommates until she got married about six months ago and you moved here.”

  No image came to her. She didn’t remember much of the first days. Only Dylan’s voice.

  Men were still trying to kill her...but now they were putting their own lives in danger to accomplish their goal. She couldn’t imagine someone risking his own safety to ram the vehicle she traveled in. It was crazy or desperate. She didn’t know which, because what she feared had happened. She’d returned to her apartment, and nothing, not a single thing, looked familiar.

  She couldn’t remember her past and the clock was still ticking. Something terrible was coming.

  She closed her eyes and almost fell. “I need to lie down.”

  Dylan hurried to her side and wrapped his arm around her waist. Even that didn’t help. “You need to sleep. That’s what the doctor recommended.”

  Fear jumped in her stomach. “You’ll be here when I wake up, right?”

  “I’ll be right here.”

  The vertigo was overwhelming and now her head began to pound viciously. Life...her life would have to wait one more day. She walked into the bedroom, rubbing her temples. Dylan pulled down a silky, dark brown comforter covered with beige paisley swirls. Was that her choice or standard for the apartment? She didn’t like it much. Like everything else, it didn’t fit.

  She winced at the pain in her head, eased onto the pillows Dylan had puffed for her and closed her eyes. Just as he moved away, she grasped his hand and squeezed.

  “Thank you. Don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

  If he answered, she didn’t hear. The pounding took over.

  FOUR

  Joss opened her eyes. Morning, and for the first time since the cave-in, her head didn’t hurt when she woke. Rising slowly, and anticipating a headache, she walked to the large bathroom. When no pain came, she flipped on the light.

  An electric toothbrush stood beside the sink. She opened a drawer and looked through. She liked minty toothpaste, and not a lot of makeup. Tinted moisturizer. Mascara and a lipstick tube. Obviously she didn’t spend much time with cosmetics. Cucumber-scented lotion sat on the counter. She found a bottle of perfume and spritzed it into the air.

  Nice...but not familiar. Disappointment wiggled its way into the edges of her consciousness, but she refused to give in. Dr. Hull said to focus on what she knew, not what she didn’t. Okay. She favored the scent of flowers and minty toothpaste...and she needed a shower. That was the agenda for this morning.

  She left the bathroom with her hair dripping. The smell of bacon and eggs wafted into her room, and her stomach growled. Dylan’s voice, lifted in a song, drifted in, along with the tantalizing aroma. She opened the bedroom door and winced at the bright sunlight shining through the sliding glass doors. She closed her eyes and paused, waiting for pain to slam her head. Nothing happened.

  Maybe this would be a good day.

  Dylan stood by the stove, with a pan in his hand. “Good morning. I’ve scrambled some eggs. Do you like them?”

  “You tell me.”

  From across the room, his sigh was unmistakable. “I see frowns. Are you having a bad day?”

  “Every day will be bad until I remember...if I remember.”

  Finally able to stop shielding her eyes, she saw the deep furrow crease his forehead.

  He turned to the stove. “I prefer to think positive. For right now, sit and have something to eat.”

  She eased onto a high stool at the breakfast counter, waiting every moment for the headache to start again. When it didn’t, a little of the worry slipped off her shoulders.

  “Any word on the car that hit us?”

  “No. Nothing yet. None of the cruisers spotted it on the streets. It disappeared...which makes me think it’s a setup. Somewhere close by, someone is hiding that car.” He shook his head. “It’s too bad no one got the license plate.”

  Joss closed her eyes. The image of the license flashed in front of her. It looked like dirt had been smeared on it, but the rains had washed it away and she could see the number. “I did.”

  “What?”

  “I looked up and it was right beside me.” She shrugged. “Or maybe I’m good with numbers. Who knows?”

  She rolled off the plate number and Dylan scrambled to punch it into his phone. He repeated it for confirmation.

  “That’s it.”

  “No. That’s great! Thanks, Joss. I’ll get this to Holmquist and maybe we’ll have our first breakthrough.”

  His smile warmed her. For the first time she felt like a real agent...at least for a little while. Maybe today really would be a good day.

  Dylan set scrambled eggs with salsa on the side in front of her. She scooped a little of the spicy sauce onto her eggs and took her first bite. The rich flavor of tomatoes and chilies rolled across her tongue.

  “Ummm. This is good. I’ll h
ave to thank Jenny.”

  Dylan forked a bite into his mouth and shook his head. “This is all you. I found the open jar in your fridge.”

  She gave him a little nod and a slight smile. “Well, at least I know one thing I like.”

  “Joss, don’t beat yourself up.”

  “I know. I know. Think about what I do know, not what I don’t.”

  He lifted his glass of orange juice. “Good advice. Thank you, Dr. Hull.”

  She bit into a crunchy piece of bacon. “Thank you for breakfast.”

  “You’re most welcome.”

  They ate in silence. When his plate was empty, Dylan pushed it aside and leaned forward. “Joss, you said last night you don’t like storms. Do you remember why?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing specific. Just a feeling. Bad things happen in storms.”

  He hung his head, obviously disappointed. When he looked up, his smile seemed forced. “I have to meet one of my agents this morning.”

  A sharp shaft of fear shot through her. How would she reach him? She shifted in her seat.

  “I... I don’t have a cell phone.”

  “No. Your phone and your service revolver were missing. We found no trace of either one when we cleared the tunnel. But don’t worry, I won’t leave until the protection detail arrives. There’ll be two guards, one on the stairs outside and another at your front door. I’ll ask them to check in on you frequently, but they’ll be outside most of the time. They’re not there now. Not while I’m here. By the way, that’s a pretty comfy couch.”

  “I doubt if I picked it out. I don’t seem to have much time for a homelife.”

  “You’re a good—”

  She lifted a hand. “Please don’t say it. I’ve lost my revolver. That doesn’t sound like the efficient officer you’re trying to describe.”

  Dylan shook his head. “Don’t expect too much too soon, Joss. Give yourself time.”

  “That’s hard to do when I know people are trying to kill me.” She paused as her sense of impending doom reared its head again. “I can’t stop feeling like someone needs me or something is about to happen.” She raised a hand. “And before you ask me, I don’t know who or what. I just know something is going to happen and I need to stop it.”