by Rachel Lee
“That’s possible,” she admitted. “But how could I be sure I’m not just making it up?”
“I guess that’s the whole problem with memory.”
Her hand loosened on his shirt and she absently began to brush it smooth again. The gentle touches quickly lit the bonfire of his desire and he had to close his eyes, trying to dampen it. But no matter how much self-control he needed, he didn’t want her to stop touching him.
He forced his attention to a more important matter. “Is there someone around here you could talk to about it? A professional?”
“I’m sure. But they can’t fill in the blanks, and I’ll probably never be sure that I’ve filled in the blanks correctly. Will I?”
He absolutely didn’t know how to answer that. “Kylie, I’m not a professional. My gut says you should just trust yourself. What else can you do? We all have to trust our memories, and how often have you heard two people disagree on exactly what happened even yesterday?”
“I guess you’re right. Maybe I should dig out my textbooks and find out what’s familiar to me.”
“That’s an idea.”
Then she sighed and leaned into him even more. “You’re so reassuring. But honestly, Coop, that knife... I wish I could stop seeing it. You must have memories like that. How do you deal?”
Deal? Good question. You couldn’t fight them; you just had to live with them until age deprived them of their power over you. Some of those memories had an awfully long lifespan. “I live with it,” he said finally. “There’s no other way. In time, it usually gets better. The brain kind of burns out and it grows more distant. It has less impact. This is fresh, so hang on.”
He felt her head bob a little against his shoulder. “Medical school?” she said questioningly.
“What about it?”
“Should I really look into it again? I mean...”
“I can’t answer that. It just seems to me it was a dream of yours once upon a time. Maybe you can turn this mess into something positive by finding a way to do it. Or not. What do I know?”
She sighed and continued rubbing his chest. “You feel good.”
He didn’t know how to take that. “Meaning?”
“You just feel good. I like touching you. Sorry if that bothers you. It’s just... I like it.”
Well, he sure liked it, too. “It doesn’t bother me at all.” At least not in a negative way, because it was sure bothering him in other ways. “Don’t stop,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as thick as it felt.
“I don’t want to,” she said.
Then, moments later, she put an instant end to the haze of desire that had been enveloping him.
“Why,” she asked, “would someone do this to me? How could I have made someone this angry?”
Shock drew him up short. She was blaming herself? For what some sicko had done? Chances were she’d never seen the guy before he attacked her.
“I mean...he must have been furious,” she said.
“How about any fury was all in his own head? Maybe he never set eyes on you before the attack. For the love of God, Kylie, don’t blame yourself for what he did.”
“But there had to be a reason! And why me?”
“The only reason had to exist somewhere inside his head. It probably had nothing to do with you. And even if you did make him mad... Kylie, how many times in your life have you gotten angry? Did you ever want to kill someone?”
“No,” she said quietly.
“Then there you go. Don’t you dare blame yourself for what that creep did. He’s twisted, and his reasons will never justify what he did, nor should you take any responsibility for it.”
“It’s hard not to,” she admitted. “We always think things happen for a reason. I know it’s not true. I mean, I’ve treated little kids for cancer. What did they ever do to deserve that? What does anyone do? But I can’t shake it. I must have done something.”
“If you did, like I said, it doesn’t justify what he did to you. Nothing can or will. Just please don’t blame yourself while you wonder why this happened. I can understand wanting a reason for it. That’s normal. But accepting the blame, any part of it, for what he did? Don’t you do that.”
He hugged her as tightly as he dared, suddenly very worried about how she might process this. He had plenty to blame himself for, and plenty that he knew wasn’t his fault. The idea that she might accept guilt for what had been done to her seemed like a huge deal, something that had to be prevented.
Maybe he should mention this to Glenda in the morning. She might have some ideas about how to help.
He closed his eyes again, letting his ears do the work while Kylie rested securely in his arms.
He knew men like the one who had attacked her. He’d met a few of them in the military. They never suffered a pang; they damn well enjoyed the brutality. They were few and far between, and for some it was a coping mechanism that vanished as soon as they were out of combat. But for others...for others it satisfied some deep need, and he could only hope that those guys were never let out on the streets again. Unfortunately, some of them probably were, but maybe many who were had enough self-control to realize they could no longer indulge their personal cruelty, at least not in big ways.
But the brutality too often came home. To wives and kids. The military had entire programs to deal with spousal and child abuse. Men like that were the minority, of course, but they existed.
And somehow it flowed seamlessly into a society where such things were all too common. Nobody remarked on it. Tongues clucked; people were sent for diversion, for therapy; relationships ended... Yeah, it was a background to life everywhere.
So the worst creeps might find an outlet that didn’t land them in a maximum security prison.
Which left people like the man who had attacked Kylie. People who couldn’t control their sadistic urges. He would never understand them.
What he did understand was that they were responsible for their own actions. Blaming the victim had never been in his nature. It just plain hurt to hear Kylie trying to blame herself. He understood her need for a reason, but that was exactly the wrong direction to go.
Somehow she needed to be convinced of that because he was certain her nightmare was about to deepen. The man was still stalking her, and her memory was beginning to return.
He didn’t pray often, but he prayed now that Kylie would start to recall happier memories. Anything that would make her smile and remember the joy of being alive.
Because that creep had all but destroyed her.
Chapter 9
In the morning, while Coop made eggs and Kylie started buttering toast, Glenda returned home, entering the house with a single word: “Coffee.”
Behind her, to Kylie’s surprise, came Connie in her uniform. “News?” she asked instantly.
Connie shook her head. “Sorry, no. Nothing since the rose, and nobody has any idea yet where it was purchased. The crime lab is looking into it. Apparently black roses can be as individual as fingerprints, revealing where they were grown, or if they were dyed a certain way. They might be able to track it, might even be able to locate the buyer. God, I hope so, but evidently it’s going to take time. It’s not like there’s a national database on them.”
She sat at the table while Kylie poured her and Glenda mugs of coffee. “What about the kids?” Kylie asked.
“Nothing more has happened. What about you?”
Kylie hesitated. She looked at Coop, surprised at how reluctant she was to talk about her two flashes of memory. Last night they’d preoccupied her. Now she was almost afraid to mention them, feeling an unreasonable superstition about it. Don’t mention it and it wouldn’t happen. Really?
“Kylie’s getting her memory back,” Coop said, evidently deciding he wasn’t going to let her withhold that. “Just two little snatches. She remembers the knife, and some of the pain, but nothing else.”
“Well, doesn’t that stink,” Glenda said, joining Connie at the tabl
e. Her scrubs looked rumpled from the long night, and strands of her hair had escaped her bun in a few places. “Of all the things to come back.”
“We were talking,” Coop continued, “about how she may have also begun to remember other things. They wouldn’t just leap out at her the way that did. She suggested reviewing her textbooks.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Glenda said, looking at her sister. “Come to work with me tonight. Just for a couple of hours. See how familiar it feels. See what you remember about treatment.”
“But that was from before.”
“That was also one of the things you were worrying about. That you might have lost more than just three years. So let’s test it. Maybe being back in the hospital setting will help you remember more.”
“I’ll think about it.” For some odd reason, Kylie felt reluctant to take the kind offer. Perhaps she was afraid she wouldn’t remember anything. Maybe she’d find out that she’d lost more than three years. Or maybe...what exactly? Was she afraid to leave Coop’s protection? Even at a busy hospital?
Oh, man, that was dependency, and certainly one she couldn’t afford. Coop had a career to get back to soon. What was she going to do when he left? Hide in a closet?
Coop served everyone eggs, including Connie, then scrambled a couple more for himself. Kylie popped two more slices of rye bread into the toaster.
“You know, this whole setup is weird,” Connie remarked as she ate. “First a stranger approaching a kid, a stranger who does nothing except talk. Sure that’s scary. But then Kylie comes home and another kid is approached, this time to bring her a message. This doesn’t sound like your average child predator.”
“No,” Coop agreed instantly. “It doesn’t.”
Connie asked, “But why should this have anything to do with Kylie? It started before she came home. The rose might not even be related to the person who made the first approach. What’s more, it isn’t like it was all over the media that she was coming back here. I don’t think it made a blip in the paper or on TV in Denver. All the interest died once it was known that she didn’t remember anything. She faded into the wall as far as news was concerned.”
“It definitely wasn’t in the press,” Glenda said. “I know because I was looking out for it. Connie’s right about the interest vanishing, at least in Denver. Not so much here, of course, because Kylie is known to most people hereabouts.”
“So very weird,” said Connie. “The stuff with the kids may be separate incidents. I’m not sure how many people around here knew when Kylie was coming back. All I know is this case is giving me a mental case of the hives.”
Coop spoke. “It sure doesn’t feel right.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Connie frowned at her plate, then bit into a slice of toast. After she swallowed, she said, “We’re all troubled by it in the department. Either we’ve got two actors involved, or we’ve got one actor who is doing it all, and that doesn’t make sense. I mean, the rose could be a diversion from something with the kids, but it doesn’t work the other way around. It certainly doesn’t divert us from keeping an eye on Kylie. Quite the opposite.”
Kylie felt as if something cold slithered down her spine. “The kids,” she said. “It would be a great distraction from the kids, dividing your attention. Don’t let that happen, Connie. I’d just die if something happened to a child because you were using too many resources to look out for me.”
“Nothing’s going to happen because of you,” Connie said.
“Thank you,” Coop muttered.
“What?” Glenda asked.
Kylie looked down. She didn’t know if she wanted this discussed, but she didn’t see how she could silence Coop. Her stomach began to sink.
“Kylie is beginning to wonder if she did something to make this guy attack her.”
Glenda drew a sharp breath. Connie responded. “I’ve seen a lot of victims do that. Just stop right there, Kylie. Nobody makes someone do something like that. No one forces someone to harm a child. You couldn’t have done anything in your life to justify the kind of attack you endured. Nothing.”
Kylie managed a nod. Intellectually she knew they were right. Emotionally it felt very different. Part of her kept wondering what she had done to bring this on herself. That need for a reason could be poisonous, she realized. Even so, she still wanted one, as if she could ever understand.
“So,” said Glenda, still frowning but clearly trying to be more cheerful. “Want to come to work with me tonight?”
Kylie’s answer was instantaneous. “No. I’m not ready.” Somewhere deep inside she knew that. “Maybe next week, Glenda. I appreciate it, but I just don’t feel ready yet.”
“Well, that’s understandable. You haven’t been out of the hospital that long yourself. Just let me know when you want to give it a try. I’m sure everyone at the hospital would be glad to see you.” Then she let it go, much to Kylie’s relief.
But the conversation left her wondering just how damaged she was. Would she ever be able to walk into a hospital again? Or was she afraid of being away from Coop’s protection? But what safer place could there be than in a hospital surrounded by so many people who would watch out for her?
God, sometimes she felt as if she’d lost her mind along with her memory.
All she knew was that she wasn’t ready to step back into her role as a nurse, even as an observer. Something deep within rebelled. Was she somehow associating that with the attack on her?
Later, after Connie had gone to work and Glenda had headed for bed, Kylie got a few of her textbooks from the box in her bedroom and carried them downstairs to sit at the kitchen table. Coop was right. She might remember something, or even a whole lot, if she scanned the texts.
“Kylie?”
She looked over her shoulder at Coop.
“I’ll stay in the next room so you won’t be disturbed by me, but...why were you so reluctant to take Glenda up on her offer?”
She almost blushed. She could hardly tell him she didn’t want to be away from the security he provided. But at the same time, it was more and she knew it. “I don’t know for sure. I just felt everything inside me rise up and say no. I guess I’m not ready for that.”
“I just wondered. I can’t say I’m surprised. I’ll be hanging out in the living room.”
“You don’t have to stay with me every moment,” she said, trying to be brave. She’d discommoded this man more than she could believe. He hadn’t left her side since she’d come home from Denver. That wasn’t right.
“I have no desire to be anywhere else,” he answered, as if that settled the whole issue.
She looked down at her books. Maybe it did. Because if there was one inescapable fact in all of this: someone was hunting her.
*
Coop was disturbed, too. For all he took a positive approach with Kylie, he knew too well that someone out there wanted to kill this woman, and unfortunately he knew how easy that could be. War had taught him that sometimes all the best security measures in the world weren’t enough.
But he was also troubled by Connie’s remark that the situations of the children and Kylie were giving her brain hives. An apt description, he thought. There was a burning in his head that wouldn’t quit, the sense that something was going very wrong and that the direction wasn’t fully identifiable.
That black rose, for example. The one notion no one had suggested, out of an excess of caution, was that it had simply been a cruel joke by someone who had heard about the black rose in Denver somehow. A person who had no desire to hurt Kylie. A stupid prankster who might not even be involved in the approach to that child.
Hell, there’d only been one child approached if you didn’t count Mikey and his mission to deliver the rose.
At this point, it would be easy to say the kids were safe and Kylie was not, or that Kylie was probably safer than the children. Definitely brain hives.
But none of them could afford to overlook any potential threat.
One guy or two guys? Man, he’d love the answer to that. Two guys seemed like too much of a fluke, but as he’d learned too often coincidences appeared to be coincidental only until you knew what was behind them. Dang, the itch in his head wouldn’t quit. He wanted answers. He wanted to be assured of Kylie’s safety and the safety of the children in this town.
One guy or two? Misdirection? Damn, any way he looked at it, almost anything was possible now. He hated this. Despite all the uncertainty he’d had to face as a marine in hostile lands, he’d never learned to tolerate it well. Usually answers came in ugly packages, but they came.
Now here he was in this quiet little town facing a similar uncertainty and there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about any of it.
Except protect Kylie. He had his mission. He just wished he knew where the threat might be coming from. How the pieces fit together, because fitting those pieces would give him insight into the enemy.
Right now he was flying blind, and he didn’t like it at all.
*
He insisted they go to Maude’s diner for lunch. They both needed to get out of this house. “You’re going to start becoming agoraphobic if we keep this up.”
She rewarded him with a smile. “Sounds good to me.” She closed the book she’d been reading.
“Remember any of it?”
“Much to my surprise, quite a bit.” She was still smiling as she ran to the bathroom to freshen up. He doubted he’d ever seen a woman who looked quite as good in jeans and a T-shirt. Not fancy, no makeup, just a fresh beauty all her own.
And she was remembering a lot of her textbook. He wondered where that would take her. Most likely not back to Denver to finish her program. But maybe another city.
Then he reined himself in. That had to be a long way down the road yet, and certainly until they found her attacker.
At least she was smiling.
*
Todd kept an eye on them from the security of the old Oldsmobile. He had a ball cap pulled down over his forehead, and a messy red wig and beard to conceal his identity. He hadn’t spared any money on these wigs and beards once he’d decided he needed a disguise. They looked as natural as if they’d grown on him...as long as no one got within six inches, and he wasn’t planning on allowing that until he had Kylie again.