MISSING MEMORIES

When a John Doe washes up on the shores of Calico Bay, no one knows who he is—including him. But one thing’s instantly clear to deputy sheriff Audrey Martin: the man’s marked for murder. And she’s the only one who can protect him from the assassins who lurk at every turn. The arrival of a team of men claiming he’s Canadian Border Services officer Nathanial Longhorn only further complicates the matter. As his memories slowly start drifting back, Nathanial’s determined to work with Audrey to uncover who wants him dead and why. But he’s tangled in something that threatens to submerge them both. And unless Audrey can help him figure out what, this Christmas might be their last.

“You’re beautiful.”

Startled, Audrey whipped around to find herself staring into the dark eyes of John Doe. His lopsided grin sucked the breath from her lungs. She’d never understood the term roguishly handsome until this moment. Even groggy and on pain meds, he affected her on an elemental level. Which made her extremely uneasy. What would he be like fully conscious?

Heart pounding, she stepped closer to the bed. “Who are you? What’s your name?”

His eyelids fluttered, and he said something unintelligible.

She reached for the button to call the nurse when his fingers closed over her wrist, pressing against her skin where the sleeve of her uniform rode up. Strong hands, and calloused, she noted in a bemused way that made her twitchy.

“You look like a Christmas ornament.” His words were slurred. “Shiny. Pretty.”

His hand dropped away as if he could no longer hold on. His head lolled to the side and his eyes closed.

“Hey,” Audrey said, giving him a slight shake. “Mister, I need you to wake up.”

But he’d gone out again.

TERRI REED’S romance and romantic suspense novels have appeared on the Publishers Weekly top twenty-five and Nielsen BookScan’s top one hundred lists, and have been featured in USA TODAY, Christian Fiction Magazine and RT Book Reviews. Her books have been finalists for the Romance Writers of America RITA® Award, the National Readers’ Choice Award and three times for the American Christian Fiction Writers Carol Award. Contact Terri at terrireed.com or PO Box 19555, Portland, OR 97224.

Identity Unknown

Terri Reed

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

—Joshua 1:9

To my family for always believing in me

and to Leah for friendship and laughter.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

“Two guards at the south entrance.” Canada Border Services Agency officer Nathanial Longhorn spoke into the microphone attached to his flak vest.

On the cold December morning, Nathanial stared through the scope on his C7 assault sniper rifle from his perch on the southeast corner of a warehouse overlooking the commercial shipping port of Saint John Harbour, New Brunswick. The overcast sky shadowed the world in a gray haze.

His breath condensed into a white cloud, obscuring his vision in the threatening chill of an impending snowstorm. A whiteout was the last thing his team needed. He prayed the bad weather held off for a few more hours.

“Copy that.” Through Nathanial’s earpiece came the reply from his friend and fellow Integrated Border Enforcement Taskforce team member, US Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent Blake Fallon.

Blake motioned and two members of the team below split off to subdue the guards.

Nathanial kept an alert eye for anything that would impede or jeopardize the IBETs members on the ground as they stealthily made their way down the street to another warehouse a block away.

They were determined to bring down an arms dealer and his network of smugglers who illegally brought small and large weapons across the border between the two countries. The latest intelligence reported a shipment of handguns would be brought into Canada tonight.

The men who made up the IBETs team were from various law enforcement agencies on both sides of the international boundary line between Canada and the United States. Nathanial was proud to be a part of the team and would give his life for each and every one of the other team members regardless of their nationality.

The successful completion of this mission would be a welcome Christmas present, indeed.

He intended to head home to Saskatchewan for a much-needed respite with his family. Though he doubted the visit would be very relaxing. His mother and grandmother would be on him about fulfilling his destiny and settling down to provide grandchildren.

An old sorrow stirred, but he quickly tamped it down.

Despite his grandmother’s certainty that there was a soul mate out there for him, Nathanial was skeptical about love and marriage. He’d come close once with his high school sweetheart, but that relationship had ended in tragedy and heartbreak. He’d decided then going it alone was better than opening himself up to that kind of pain again.

Besides, he liked his bachelor life too much to tie the knot like some of his friends and coworkers. Though Nathanial never lacked for female company, the thought of hearth and home made him want to run screaming into the night.

Being domesticated wasn’t on his agenda. He was over thirty and set in his ways. He liked the freedom of taking off on an assignment at a moment’s notice. He enjoyed the variety of dating different women, always careful to make sure any woman he spent time with knew he wasn’t interested in anything serious or long-term.

Some ladies took that as a challenge to change his mind, and others walked away before they became too attached.

He tolerated the former until he couldn’t and appreciated the latter.

He’d yet to meet a woman who made him want to change his mind. And frankly, he doubted he ever would.

A chill skated over the nape of his neck, drawing his attention to the current assignment. Once the two guards were out of commission, Nathanial did another visual sweep. All appeared clear. Good. He was cold and ready to wrap this up so he could have a cup of hot coffee and warm himself by a roaring fire.

He was about to give the go-ahead to the team when his attention snagged on a gold luxury sedan turning onto the street a few blocks away.

The arms dealer? Or someone in the wrong place at the wrong time? “Hold up.”

He prayed the car kept driving, because if it didn’t, this op was going to become more complicated.

Behind him, the scuff of a shoe on the concrete roof sent his heart hammering. He rolled onto his back, bringing the rifle up, his finger hovering over the trigger. A man loomed over him. Confusion and panic vied for dominance. Then the butt of an automatic submachine gun rammed into his skull.

And the world went dark.

* * *

Deputy Sheriff Audrey Martin sang along with the Christmas carol playing on the patrol car radio. The first fingers of dawn rose over the horizon. From her spot parked on a rise overlooking the small fishing village she’d been born in, she surveyed the streets and buildings of the township of Calico Bay, Maine, dusted in white.

This early-morning patrol was her favorite time, especially in winter. Gone were the summer windjammers and tour boats from the harbor. Now only the commercial fishing vessels and tugboats remained, most of which were already out to sea, while everyone else stayed snug in their beds. The population of the town receded to those whose lives began and ended here. Fishermen who made their living off the ocean, always hunting for a good day’s catch, and those who supported the fishing industry.

She’d been on the job for less than a year and already she wanted to run for sheriff when the office’s current occupant retired. There would be those who would cry nepotism, because Sheriff David Crump was her mother’s aunt’s husband. And there would be those who would oppose her for the simple fact she was female. Two strikes against her.

But she’d win them over with her capabilities. She had to. Failure wasn’t an option. Too many people expected her to fail. She wanted to disappoint them. She wanted to make her family proud. Especially her mother and father, rest his soul.

He’d been gone since she was a child, but she still wanted to honor his memory by doing well and serving her community.

Having grown up with a doctor for a mother and a fisherman for a father, she knew hard work and commitment were the keys to succeeding. Not that she needed much beyond her studio apartment and the respect of the town.

Though her mother constantly warned her if she didn’t take another chance on love, she’d end up old and alone.

Better that than having her heart trampled on all over again. Those were three years of her life she’d never get back. Three years wasted on a man who had cheated on her and then called her a fool for believing in love.

Well, she wouldn’t be making that mistake again.

She warmed her hands in front of the car’s heater vents and sang beneath her breath, not really in tune but enjoying singing anyway. Outside the confines of the patrol car, snow flurries swirled in the gray morning light and danced on the waves of the Atlantic Ocean crashing on the shores of Calico Bay, a sweeping inlet that formed a perfect half-moon with a picturesque view of their friends across the waterway in New Brunswick.

The radio attached to her uniform jacket crackled and buzzed before the sheriff’s department dispatcher, Ophelia Leighton, came on the line. “Unit one, do you copy?”

Thumbing the answer button, Audrey replied, “Yes, dispatch, I copy.”

“Uh, there’s a reported sighting of a—”

The radio crackled and popped. In the background, Audrey heard Ophelia talking, then the deep timbre of the sheriff’s voice. “Uh, sorry about that.” Ophelia came back on the line. “We’re getting mixed reports, but bottom line there’s something washed up on the shore of the Pine Street beach.”

“Something?” Audrey buckled her seat belt, shifted the car into Drive and took off toward the north side of town. “What kind of something?”

“Well, one report said a beached whale,” Ophelia came back with. “Another said dead shark. But a couple people called in to say a drowned fisherman.”

Audrey’s gut clenched. All sorts of things found their way into the inlet from the ocean’s current. None of those scenarios sounded good. Especially the last one. The town didn’t need the heartache of losing one of their own so close to Christmas. Not that any time was a good time.

Her heart cramped with sorrow for the father she’d lost so many years ago to the sea.

She prayed that whoever was on the beach wasn’t someone she knew. It would be sad enough for a stranger to die on their shore.

Pine Street ended at a public beach, which in the summer would be teeming with tourists and locals alike. She brought her vehicle to a halt in the cul-de-sac next to an early-model pickup truck where a small group of gawkers stood on the road side of the concrete barrier. Obviously the ones who’d called the sheriff’s department.

Bracing herself for the biting cold, she climbed out and plopped her brimmed hat on her head to prevent her body heat from escaping through her scalp. With shoulders squared and head up, she approached the break in the seawall.

“Audrey.” Clem Previs rushed forward to grip her sleeve, his veined hand nearly blue from the cold. The retired fisherman ran the bait shop on the pier with his two sons. “Shouldn’t you wait for the sheriff?”

Others crowded around her. Mary Fleischer from the dime store. Pat Garvey from the hardware store and the librarian, Lucy Concord. All stared at her with expectant and skeptical gazes. These men and women had watched her grow up from a wee babe to the woman she was today. She held affection for each one, and their lack of confidence in her hurt.

Pressing her lips together, she covered Clem’s hand with hers. He felt like a Popsicle. “Clem, I can handle this,” she assured him and the others.

Her breath came out in little puffs. The ground beneath their feet crunched with a top layer of ice. “You all need to get inside somewhere warm. I can’t deal with more than one crisis at a time, and I sure don’t want to be having to give you mouth to mouth out here in the cold.”

Clem clucked. “Don’t get lippy with me, young lady.”

She smiled and patted his hand. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Now I’ve got to do my job.”

“Seems someone is already taking care of it,” Lucy said, pointing.

About ten yards down the beach, a man dressed from head to toe in black and wearing a mask that obscured his face struggled to drag something toward the water’s edge.

Audrey narrowed her gaze. Her pulse raced. Amid a tangle of seaweed and debris, she could make out the dark outline of a large body. She shivered with dread. That certainly wasn’t a fish, whale or shark. Definitely human. And from the size, she judged the body to be male.

And someone was intent on returning the man to the ocean.

Heart thrumming and adrenaline flooding her body, she took off at a fast clip, but the thirty-two pounds of gear she carried on her person, plus her bulky boots, made maneuvering in the sand difficult. Careful to keep from tripping over clumps of kelp and driftwood that had settled on the beach from the wind and ocean tide, she narrowed the gap.

“Hey!” she shouted. “Stop where you are! Sheriff’s department.”

The suspect froze, then dropped the prone man’s feet in the surf. The perpetrator whipped toward her with a large-caliber gun aimed in her direction.

Her breath caught. She faced her worst fear as an officer.

He fired. And missed.

The sound of the gun blast echoed through the morning air, scattering a flock of seagulls from the water’s edge. Fragments of sand pelted her uniform.

Stunned, Audrey dropped to her belly, knocking the wind momentarily out of her. Sand clung to her, getting in her mouth, her nose, as she drew in a breath. She fought through the panic and called on her training. She drew her sidearm. “Halt!”

He ignored her and ran across the sand, heading for the berm separating the road from the beach. She shot at him, the sound exploding in her brain and muffling the world.

He hunkered inward, protecting his head, but kept running. With her ears ringing, she jumped to her feet, torn between giving chase and checking on the man in the sand and making sure Clem and the others weren’t hit by the assault.

But the man with the gun posed a threat she needed to neutralize. Now, before he hurt anyone else.

She sprinted after him, kicking up sand with each step while radioing for help. “Shots fired! Officer needs backup.”

“Sheriff’s on his way!” came Ophelia’s barely audible reply through the fuzzy haze inside Audrey’s ears.

“Suspect heading toward Prescott Road,” Audrey relayed to the dispatcher, praying Ophelia could hear her, since she couldn’t be sure how loud or soft she was yelling because her hearing was muffled from the gunfire.

The deep drifts of sand hindered her progress but also the perpetrator’s.

Audrey gained on him while trying to aim her weapon. “Stop or I’ll shoot!”

Before she could pull the trigger, the suspect reached the berm and disappeared over the top. Tall sea grass obscured him from view. Deep grooves in the sand from his boots were the only sign he’d even been there.

Breathing heavily, Audrey reached the berm and crawled up the sandy embankment in a crouch. She crested the top in time to see a black Suburban peel away from the edge of the road and speed down the street. Before she could get off a shot, the vehicle careened around the corner and disappeared from view.

Frustrated, Audrey pounded the hard-packed sand with a fist. She thumbed her mic while sliding down the sandy berm. “I lost the suspect on Prescott. Black Suburban with missing plates and tinted windows.”

She didn’t wait to hear Ophelia’s answer as she scrambled to the sandy shore and hurried back toward the seawall. “Clem! Mary!”

The four popped up from behind the concrete barrier. “Here!”

Relief nearly made Audrey’s knees buckle. “Anyone hit?”

“No, Audrey,” Pat yelled back. “You?”

“You okay, Deputy Martin?” Lucy called out.

“I’m good.” She did an about-face and ran back to the man lying motionless on the shore. The water lapped at his feet. If she’d arrived any later, the man would be fish bait once again. How had the masked man known where he’d washed ashore?

Keeping her gaze alert, in case the assailant returned, she knelt down next to the supine body, noting with a frown that he was dressed in what could only be categorized as tactical attire, minus the hardware.

Definitely not a fisherman.

And definitely not from around here.

She pressed her fingers against the side of the man’s neck, fully expecting to find no pulse, as no one could survive for long in the frigid Atlantic Ocean, not to mention being exposed to the elements onshore. The skin on his neck was like ice, but beneath her cold fingers a pulse beat. Slow, but there!

With a renewed spike of adrenaline, she grabbed the mic on her shoulder. “Send the ambulance to the beach. We have a live one here. Hurry, though!”

“Copy that.” Ophelia’s surprise matched Audrey’s.

Audrey slipped her arms under the man’s torso and dragged him to the dry sand. Then she unzipped her jacket, thankful she’d worn her thick, cable-knit sweater over her thermals today, and shrugged out of the outerwear. She laid it over the man on the beach.

Turning to the group of town elders still gawking like she were the main act at the circus, she called out, “Clem, is that your truck parked out there?”

“Sure is,” he yelled back.

“Do you have any blankets or jackets? I need them!”

Clem and Pat hustled away, leaving the two older ladies huddled together, staring in her direction. Audrey turned her attention back to the man lying on the sand. Dark hair hung in chunks covering his face. Dried blood matted some of the hair near his temple. He had on black jackboots, similar to the ones she wore, black cargo pants, a black turtleneck and gloves.

She made a quick check for identification. None. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Lord, I don’t know why this man has washed ashore here or what purpose You have, but I pray that he lives. Have mercy and grace on this man. And let us find the masked man without any lives lost. Amen.”

The man stirred and moaned as he thrashed on the sand, giving Audrey her first real glimpse of his face as his hair dropped away. Dark lashes splayed over high cheekbones. A well-formed mouth with lips nearly blue from the cold. He had handsome features. Curiosity bubbled inside her. Who was he and what was his story? Why was someone trying to kill him?

“Sir.” Audrey gave his shoulder a gentle shake.

A word slipped out of his mouth.

“What?” Audrey bent closer, turning her ear toward his mouth.

“Betrayed...” He stilled and slipped back into unconsciousness.

A sense of urgency trembled through her. What did he mean? Had he betrayed someone? Or had someone betrayed him?

She still didn’t hear the siren. Where was the ambulance? It wasn’t like the medical center where Sean James kept the bus parked was that far away. Calico Bay was barely the length of a football field. Keeping her gun ready, she stayed alert for any signs of the masked man returning.

Clem and Pat picked their way to her side, their arms loaded with a plethora of blankets and jackets. She quickly packed them around her charge. Whatever this man’s story, whether good or bad, she had a sworn duty to serve and protect the community of Calico Bay, and for now that included this man.

The shrill siren filled the air. Good. About time. Within minutes Sean, his intern and the sheriff were hustling across the beach with a stretcher. Sean ambled toward her on an unsteady gait. He carried his medical bag in one gloved hand. A yellow beanie was pulled low over his auburn hair and covered his ears.

His intense brown gaze swept the area as if looking for insurgents. He’d been a medic in the military before losing a leg at the knee when an IUD exploded. The town had been heartbroken at his loss but thankful their star high school quarterback had returned to Calico Bay alive.

Though Sean had slipped into a depression when he’d first come home, the town’s people wouldn’t let that continue and had pooled their resources to buy the ambulance and make him the town’s official EMT.

Audrey moved out of the way to allow Sean and his intern, a kid named Wes, to work on the unconscious man.

“I’ve got all deputies out looking for the SUV. What do we have here?” Sheriff David Crump asked. He was a big, brawny man with a shock of white hair that had once been as dark as night and a ready grin that had captured her great-aunt’s heart back when they were in high school. Now if only Audrey could capture his respect as easily.

She related what she knew.

Sean and Wes rolled the man onto the stretcher. She reached for the edge of the litter along with the sheriff and helped Sean and Wes carry the man to the waiting ambulance. The older folks, still congregating near Clem’s truck, watched with avid expressions.

Once the bay doors were closed, the ambulance drove away. The sheriff climbed into his car and took off with his lights flashing. This was going to be big news in town. Audrey moved toward her vehicle, intent on following the ambulance to the medical center. For some reason she felt an urge to stick close to the unconscious man. Probably because he was helpless and at their mercy.

There was something about him that made her think he wasn’t going to like being in that state long once he came to. Maybe it was the strength in his chin or the boldness of his cheeks or the width of his shoulders. Or possibly woman’s intuition mingled with her cop sense.

“Do you know who he is?” Mary asked, trying to waylay her.

“No, ma’am,” Audrey replied and popped open the driver’s side door. “You all go home now before you catch a chill. We still have an armed man loose in the township. Be careful and call the station if you see anyone or anything suspicious.”

Without waiting for their reactions, she drove through the center of town toward the medical center that served as the town’s hospital without turning on her lights. Up ahead the ambulance stopped for a red light at one of only two traffic lights in the town. She stacked up behind the sheriff’s car.

When the light turned green, Sean stepped on the gas. The ambulance was in the middle of the intersection when the same dark SUV with a huge brush guard on the front end ran the red light and plowed into the back of the ambulance.

Audrey’s mind scrambled to make sense of what she was seeing even as she rammed the gearshift into Park, unbuckled her seat belt and jumped out of her car while once again palming her sidearm. Twice in one day was a new record.

The SUV’s tires screeched as it backed up, spun in a half circle and sped off in the direction it had come from. The sheriff’s car jolted forward, jumped the curb and took off after the hit-and-run vehicle. Audrey radioed for more backup, then raced to the front of the ambulance. Smoke billowed from the engine block. “Sean! Wes!”

* * *

The world tipped and jostled. Pain exploded everywhere. He tried to force his eyelids open, but nothing cooperated. His arms were strapped down. So were his legs.

Where was he? Why was he trapped in some sort of roller coaster? His head pounded. He tried to recall what had led him to this place in time, but a dark void sucked him in. The last thing he heard before the blackness took him back was a woman’s panicked voice. He wished he could help her, but he couldn’t even help himself.

* * *

Audrey reached the ambulance driver’s door just as Sean swung it open. She helped him to the curb. A gash on his forehead bled. Then she ran back for Wes. Thankfully the passenger side door opened easily. The kid was slumped sideways, the white air bag in his lap.

“Let me get the door,” a male voice said from behind her.

She nodded gratefully at a local man who’d been passing by on the sidewalk. Once the passenger door was open, Audrey and the Good Samaritan, Jordon, got Wes out. He came with a groan, too, as they sat him beside Sean.

“Jordon, help me with the guy in back,” Audrey instructed. The brunt of the impact had been aimed at the back bay. The double doors were crumpled. She let out a growl of frustration and ran to her car’s trunk, where she kept a set of Jaws of Life. She’d never needed the equipment before and had hoped never to use it, but she hefted them into her hands, feeling their unfamiliar weight.

The sound of the Calico Bay fire engine rent the air. Momentary relief renewed her energy. Help was on the way. But she had to get inside the bay and make sure the man she’d rescued from the beach hadn’t died in the crash, which was no doubt the guy in the SUV’s intent.

Before she and Jordon could get into the back bay, the fire truck pulled up. Three men and two women hustled over. Audrey let two of the biggest fire crew members take over with the door.

As soon as the doors on the bay allowed access, she climbed inside. The stretcher had tipped but was wedged between the two benches, providing some protection for the man strapped to the gurney. Thankfully the impact of the SUV crashing into the ambulance didn’t seem to have caused the patient any more damage. She checked his pulse and let out a relieved breath.

But someone was determined to kill this man.

And it was her job to keep him alive.

TWO

Audrey finished her after-action report on the shooting and put it on the sheriff’s desk—he liked things old-school—but she also sent him an electronic version. Her heart still hammered too fast from this morning’s activities. Focusing on the paperwork helped to calm her nerves. But now a bout of anxiety kicked back in. Danger had come to her small part of the world. And she didn’t like it one bit.

She stopped by Deputy Harrison’s desk. His light brown hair was shorn short, which emphasized the hard lines of his jaw. “Hey, Mike, any idea where the sheriff is?”

“Home, I’d imagine,” the thirtysomething deputy replied without glancing up.

She corralled her irritation. He was one of those who weren’t comfortable having a female on duty. Earning his respect would be nearly as difficult as that of her great-uncle. Infusing goodwill into her voice—it was Christmastime, after all—she said, “If you see him, would you mind letting him know I’m heading to the medical center to check on our John Doe?”

Mike lifted his gray eyes to her. “Why? The guy’s still unconscious. And Gregson’s there.”

She couldn’t explain her driving need to go to the medical center or the need to make sure the man from the beach was safe. So she settled for something the other deputy would understand. “It’s my case.”

She hurried from the sheriff’s station, acknowledging to herself she easily could have called her mom, the primary doctor who was tending to the man they’d rescued on the beach, for an update. But she wanted to see for herself.

Night had fallen several hours ago, and now the world was bathed in the soft glow from the moon and the streetlamps decorated with twinkling lights. A large Christmas tree in the middle of the town park rose high in the air and shimmered with a thousand tiny lights and a brightly lit star.

Normally she enjoyed seeing the tree and the town in the throes of the holiday season, but tonight edginess had her hands gripping the steering wheel in nervous anticipation as she drove.

The news media had picked up the story, reporting an unconscious John Doe found on the beach. The sheriff hadn’t released the man’s photo. Yet. If the man didn’t regain consciousness soon, they’d have to reach out to the public in hopes of identifying the stranger.

No doubt reporters from the bigger towns would descend on Calico Bay and the medical center, making the sheriff’s department’s job harder. With more strangers in town, finding the masked man would be more difficult. She’d already made calls to all the gas stations, restaurants and grocery stores, asking everyone to keep an eye out for an outsider. In winter, visitors were an oddity in the close-knit community.

Audrey’s gaze searched the streets for any sign of trouble, namely in the form of a masked man in black with a large gun. It bugged her no end that the bandit in the SUV had disappeared. The sheriff had chased the offending vehicle for several miles before the creep threw out a handful of spikes that had punctured the sheriff’s tires, allowing the suspect to escape. That wasn’t an amateur move. Given how the victim and the assailant were dressed, Audrey had a suspicion there was some paramilitary-type thing going on here. Not a comforting thought.

She parked at the side entrance next to her mom’s sedan and went inside the brick building, pausing at the nurses’ station to ask for her mom.

“Dr. Martin is with a patient at the moment,” Katie, the nurse on duty, informed her. Katie shoved her red hair off her shoulder and leaned close. “So was there really a shootout this morning on the beach?”

Resting her hands on the utility belt at her waist, Audrey towered over the other woman. “Yes. No one was hit, thankfully. Where’s the man who was brought in this morning?”

“Second floor. Deputy Gregson’s on duty.”

“Thanks.” Audrey bypassed the elevator and took the stairs, preferring to move at her own rapid pace rather than waiting. When she emerged from the stairwell, she halted. Deputy Gregson wasn’t at his post.

A bad feeling tightened the muscles of her neck. He should’ve been sitting outside one of the rooms, but the chair at the other end of the hall was empty. A magazine lay on the floor nearby. She unlatched the strap on her holster and gripped the butt of the Glock as she moved with caution toward the last room.

She passed the nurses’ desk. The older woman manning the station glanced up from the report she was studying. “Evening, Deputy.”

“Where’s Deputy Gregson?”

The nurse popped up from her chair and frowned. “Well, he was sitting right over there last I checked, but I’ve been busy so I haven’t paid much attention.” She sat back down with a shrug. “Maybe he’s using the restroom.”

“Maybe.” Though the itch at the back of Audrey’s neck was saying no. Something was wrong. She paused outside John Doe’s door, withdrew her weapon, took a calming breath and then pushed the door open.

* * *

Lying in the hospital bed, the man blinked at the dark figure towering over him.

The stranger grabbed a pillow, his intent clear as he held the white fluff in both hands and brought it toward the man’s face, clearly meaning to smother him. Why would he choose that method of elimination? The answer came with lightning speed. Suffocating him was soundless, providing the goon more opportunity to get away cleanly.

Fear, stark and vivid, flooded his system, short-circuiting his brain in a shower of pain. The patient in the bed lifted his arms to ward off the attack, but his limbs felt heavy. His body responded sluggishly, as if he were fighting to move through mud.

There was no way he could defend himself.

He was about to die. He didn’t know why.

His mind reeled. The world receded. His limbs flopped back to the bed at his sides, and darkness claimed him once again.

* * *

Several things registered at once for Audrey as she stepped into John Doe’s room. Deputy Gregson’s prone body just inside the doorway. Blood from a gash on his head.

The same tall, muscular man dressed in dark clothing, with sand still clinging to his boots, stood holding a pillow in his hands, about to suffocate the unconscious man lying in the bed, hooked to a heart monitor and an IV.

“Stop, police!” she shouted.

The intruder spun to face her. The fury in his dark brown eyes, the only thing visible between his black beanie and the black neoprene half mask, was unmistakable when his gaze locked with hers. “You! Not again!” His voice was deep, gruff, muffled by the mask. “Stop interfering.”

“Drop the pillow. Put your hands in the air,” she commanded, bracing her feet apart in case she had to fire.

He threw the pillow, hitting her in the face and blocking her view for a split second, just enough for the man to use his shoulder to slam into her like a battering ram and knock her off her feet.

“Hey!” She landed on her backside with a jarring thud, her weapon hitting the tile floor and skidding away. The man jumped over her. She grabbed his ankle and hung on, tripping him. He went down, landing on his knees and hands with a grunt. He kicked her with his free foot, his heel smashing into her shoulder.

She ignored the blast of pain and scrambled for a better hold, but he twisted and jerked out of her grasp to race out of the room. She jumped to her feet, grabbed her gun from the floor and dashed after him. He disappeared down the stairwell.

“Call nine-one-one,” Audrey shouted to the startled nurse as she raced passed the desk. “Check on Gregson and the patient.”

Using caution, Audrey opened the stairwell door and peered inside. She heard the man’s pounding footfalls going downstairs. She chased after him, leaping down the last few steps and careening out of the stairwell onto the first floor. Up ahead, the man slammed into an orderly, knocking him sideways, then the assailant hit the exit. Audrey ran outside but lost sight of him.

Not far away an engine turned over, and then tires screeched on the pavement.

Heart pumping with adrenaline, she rushed back inside and up to the second floor. She checked on Gregson, who now was sitting up. A nurse tended to the wound on his head.

“What happened?” Audrey asked the dazed officer.

“I was reading a magazine when someone came out of the room across the hall and attacked me,” Gregson replied. “It was a blur. The guy had on a mask, and he hit me in the head with something hard. I didn’t see what it was.”

With her hand on her gun, Audrey stepped out of the room and pushed open the door to the unoccupied room across the hall. The window was open. She stuck her head out.

Footprints in the dusting of snow on the ledge gave Audrey a pretty good idea of how the perpetrator had gained access—he’d climbed the fire escape and shuffled along the ledge to the window. The lock had been broken. She slammed the window closed and made a mental note to have someone fix the latch as soon as possible.

Audrey returned to John Doe’s room and addressed the nurse helping Gregson. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Yes,” the woman said. “He’ll need a couple of sutures. Dr. Martin will want to examine him to be sure he doesn’t have a mild concussion.”

“Okay, see that he’s taken care of,” Audrey said. She put her hand on Gregson’s shoulder. “I’ll take over the watch tonight. The sheriff should be here any moment. He’ll want a full account.”

Gregson nodded and looked a bit green around the edges as the nurse helped him to stand and led him out of the room.

Once alone with the unconscious man in the bed, Audrey checked the window, making sure the lock was intact and secure. She took several deep, calming breaths and let the adrenaline ebb away. She’d had more excitement in the past twenty-four hours than since graduating from the academy. She positioned the chair so she had a clear view of the door and the window in case the masked attacker decided to return.

“You’re beautiful.”

Startled, Audrey whipped around to find herself staring into the dark eyes of John Doe. His lopsided grin sucked the breath from her lungs. She’d never understood the term roguishly handsome until this moment. Even groggy and on pain meds, he affected her on an elemental level. Which made her extremely uneasy. What would he be like fully conscious?

Heart pounding, she stepped closer to the bed. “Who are you? What’s your name?”

His eyelids fluttered, and he said something unintelligible.

She reached for the button to call the nurse when his fingers closed over her wrist, pressing against her skin where the sleeve of her uniform rode up. His touch was firm but gentle. Strong hands, and calloused, she noted in a bemused way that made her twitchy. She tugged on her arm, hoping he’d get a clue and release his hold. He didn’t.

“You look like a Christmas ornament.” His words were slurred. “Shiny. Pretty.”

His hand dropped away as if he could no longer hold on. His head lolled to the side, and his eyes closed.

“Hey,” Audrey said, giving him a slight shake. “Mister, I need you to wake up.”

But he’d gone out again.

Okay, that was weird. He’d likened her to a Christmas ornament. Shiny—that was a new one. If she hadn’t known he’d been conked on the head and was on mild painkillers, she’d have thought he was on some sort of hallucinogenic. Maybe he was on something stronger than the medical grade medicine. She’d have to ask her mother.

She sat but was too antsy to stay still. She paced at the foot of the bed, every few seconds checking to see if the man had regained consciousness again.

The door opened suddenly, sending her pulse skyrocketing and her hand reaching for her sidearm.

“Whoa, there,” her great-uncle’s deep voice intoned as he stepped into the room. “Just me.”

She relaxed her stance. “Did you see Gregson?”

“Yep. He’ll be fine.” David moved to the end of the bed and set a fingerprint kit on the chair. “You’ve saved this man’s life thrice now.”

Her mouth twitched at her uncle’s words. He’d once been a scholar of Old English before giving up academia and carving out a path in law enforcement. “I have a feeling the masked villain isn’t going to give up.”

He tipped his chin toward the man lying on the bed. “Has he come to?”

“Briefly.”

“Did he say anything?”

She hesitated, unwilling to reveal the words that were still echoing inside her head. “Nothing useful. Gibberish. Do you know if a tox screen was done?”

David arched an eyebrow. “You know your mother. Of course that was one of the first things she did.”

“Right.” Her mother couldn’t abide drugs. She’d lost her younger brother to the poison years ago. “And?”

“Clean blood. No track marks.”

“Good.” For some reason knowing John Doe wasn’t a junkie pleased her. But just what and who he was remained a mystery, as did why someone was so ardently trying to kill him. What did John know? “The man who shot at me wasn’t some garden-variety bad guy. Whatever John Doe is, he’s into something bad.”

“Yeah, I have that feeling, too. The road tacks the perp used to stop my car when I chased after him can be bought online easy enough. But there was skill involved.”

In the melee of the crash and aftermath, she’d forgotten what John Doe had said on the beach. “He’d muttered a word when I first reached him—betrayed.”

“That’s interesting. And concerning. The masked man may have been his attacker from the get-go and is very determined to finish the job. I don’t like it. I want you to go home,” the sheriff said. “I’ll stick around until Harrison and Paulson can get here.”

She straightened. Did he think she wasn’t doing a good job? “I’ll stay.”

“You’ve been on duty since five a.m.”

“I’m not tired.”

He sighed. “Let’s get his prints and a photo. Then I’m ordering you to go home. In the morning you can search the criminal and missing-persons databases. Hopefully you’ll come up with a name and a reason why someone wants him dead.”

* * *

Audrey arrived at the station at 6 a.m. and uploaded the fingerprints she’d taken from their mysterious John Doe and his photo off her phone into the FBI’s national criminal information center as well as the violent criminal apprehension program for missing persons.

Nothing turned up.

The man could be a Canadian, since the border between the two countries was only a few miles across the ocean. She sent his prints and his photo to the criminal investigation division of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, Canada’s federal policing agency. She provided her cell phone number so they could contact her directly.

Then she headed back to the medical center to relieve the sheriff. She met Deputy Paulson outside John Doe’s room. “How did it go?”

“All quiet,” he replied. “Sheriff’s inside.”

She entered, half hoping John Doe had awakened. He still slept. His face looked relaxed. His dark hair fell over his forehead, covering one eye. Beside him sat the sheriff with his arms folded over his massive chest, his chin tipped down and his eyes closed. Audrey hesitated, debating stepping back out.

“You’re here early,” the sheriff said softly, lifting his head.

She straightened and came fully into the room. “No hits on NCIC or ViCAP. I sent his info to the RCMP.”

“Good thinking.” He stood and stretched. “I’m going to grab some coffee. You want some?”

“No, thank you,” she replied. His praise eased the worry from the night before that she wasn’t doing a good job. Her spine straightened as she moved aside to let him pass.

She went to the window. Frost laced the edges of the glass. She stared at the tree line flanking the west side of the building. The green pine trees were sprinkled with a soft layer of new snow that had fallen during the night. Today, the sun peeked out from behind gray clouds. With 80 percent of the state of Maine forested, there were many hiding places for the masked man to lose himself in. Was he out in the woods now, waiting for another opportunity to strike?

A noise behind her sent a jolt of adrenaline straight to her heart. She spun to find John Doe springing from the bed and landing on the balls of his feet to face her. He ripped out his IV line. It fell to the floor, and the heart monitor sounded an alarm.

Audrey quickly shut off the shrill noise.

The hospital gown they’d put on him stretched across his wide shoulders as his hands went up in a defensive position. Words flowed from his mouth, but she had no idea what he was saying.

She held her hands palms up. Adrenaline flooded her veins. She didn’t want to have to take the guy down, but if he didn’t calm himself, she’d do it. “Hey, take it easy. You’re in the hospital.”

More words in a language she didn’t understand came at her.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” she said. “Please speak English.”

His panicked dark eyes swept over her and the room. Looking for an escape?

The door behind him opened. A young nurse rushed in, followed by the sheriff, carrying his coffee in one hand. John Doe whirled to confront a new threat.

“Don’t!” Audrey shouted, afraid either man would attack the other. “He’s okay. It’s okay. Everyone’s okay.”

The sheriff held up his free hand. “Whoa, there, son. No one is here to hurt you. My name is Sheriff Crump. You’re safe now.” To the nurse, the sheriff said, “We’ve got this.”

She clearly wasn’t reassured, as her scared gaze zinged from the sheriff to the patient and back again. “He shouldn’t be up. He’s bleeding where his IV line was. I should check on his wounds.”

Audrey glanced at the smear of blood on the unknown man’s arm. The amount wasn’t life threatening, just messy.

“You can come back in a bit,” David said in a tone that left no room for argument. “I need to question the man.”

With a frown, the nurse retreated, leaving them alone with the mysterious man. John Doe let out a string of words that made no sense to Audrey. Worry churned in her gut. What was going on? Obviously he was a foreigner, but from where? She couldn’t place the language.

The sheriff cocked his head, his gaze going to Audrey. She shrugged, at a loss for how to communicate with the patient. The sharp sense of helplessness was too familiar. She hated the feeling. She’d felt this way the night her father hadn’t returned from the sea. Only then it had been more intense. Now it was enough to make her jittery.

“I can understand a few words,” the sheriff said. “I think he’s speaking in Cree. One of the professors I worked with at the university taught a class in Native American studies and had a segment on languages. Cree has a very distinct dialect.” He turned his attention back to John Doe. “Does that sound right?”

Confusion played over the man’s face. He took a shuddering breath and then spoke in English. “I don’t know. I can hear the words in my head, but they mean nothing to me. Where am I?”

“You’re in Calico Bay,” Audrey supplied. “Were you on a boat?”

John Doe backed up so he could see both Audrey and the sheriff. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. Calico Bay?”

“Downeast Maine,” the sheriff supplied. “The northern tip of the state.”

The man kept his gaze on Audrey. “I’ve seen you before. Where?”

“You woke up for a moment on the beach and again last night while I was here.”

John ran a hand through his dark hair. He stilled when his fingers touched the bandage near his left temple. “What happened?”

“We were hoping you could tell us,” the sheriff said. “There’ve been three attempts on your life since you washed ashore on our beach. Why is someone trying to kill you?”

The man frowned and paced a few steps. “I don’t know.”

Audrey fought the urge to tell him it would be all right. She didn’t know if it would, and she wasn’t sure he’d appreciate the platitude.

He staggered to the bed and sat, dropping his head into his hands. “I can’t remember anything. Every time I try to recall, my head feels like it’s going to explode.”

Her heart ached to see his distress. The need to comfort prodded her to take a step closer. The sheriff arched a disapproving eyebrow at her. She halted. Her great-uncle had warned her often enough not to become emotionally involved in cases. She needed a clear, objective head. And if she wanted to be sheriff one day, she had to remain detached and professional at all times.

The patient rolled his shoulders then lifted his gaze to Audrey. “Only your face seems familiar. Nothing else.”

The defenselessness on his handsome face tugged at her. She swallowed. Her heart beat erratically. No way was she going to repeat his delirious proclamation that she reminded him of a Christmas ornament. “On the beach you muttered the word betrayed. Ring any bells?”

His mouth gaped and he shook his head.

She tapped her fingers against her utility belt. “You can’t remember your name?”

He stared at her, the panic returning to his eyes. “No. I can’t remember my name. Or who I am. Or where I’m from. I don’t know what I meant by betrayed.” He let out a shuddering breath. “Or why someone wants me dead.”

THREE

He couldn’t remember his name.

Sitting on the hospital bed under the scrutiny of the deputy and the sheriff made him feel vulnerable. An antsy sort of energy buzzed through him. He might not know his name, but he knew in his gut he didn’t do vulnerable.

His body ached everywhere. His head pounded like a jackhammer going to town inside his skull. His mouth felt like cotton. An encompassing terror gripped him. A shiver racked his body. Cold. So very cold. How could he not know who he was? Or recall his past?

Why did someone want him dead?

His heart slammed against his ribs. A looming sense of dread and foreboding threatened to pull him back into darkness. He hung on to the edge of the bed and fought the tug. He needed to stay awake. Some innate knowledge told him he needed to keep a clear head if he were to survive. He grabbed the water pitcher on the bedside tray and poured a glass. He drank it down and then another.

“Then we’ll call you John.”

“What?” He stared at the blonde, blue-eyed deputy. Her hair was pulled back away from her face and secured behind her head in a knot. She wore little makeup. She didn’t need any. She was absolutely stunning with her high cheekbones, delicately carved beneath smooth, unblemished skin and full lips. He forced himself to concentrate on what she’d just stated. “Is my name John?”

It didn’t ring any bells. And every time he tried to concentrate, to conjure up a memory, his head felt like someone was taking a pickax to his skull, bringing on a blinding pain that was nearly incapacitating. Only keeping his focus on the beautiful woman’s face kept him from keeling over.

She smiled and her eyes filled with compassion. “John as in John Doe. I don’t know your name. You weren’t carrying identification.”

That explained why they didn’t know his name. “Where did you find me?”

“The tide deposited you on the public beach early yesterday morning,” the man who wore the gold sheriff’s badge replied. Sheriff Crump, he’d said. He sipped from his coffee and eyed John with a mix of wary suspicion and empathy.

He’d washed up on the beach like driftwood, which accounted for the bone-deep chill he felt even though the room was heated. Had he been on a boat and fallen overboard? Something else the sheriff said finally registered like a punch to the gut. “You said someone tried to kill me after you found me?”

“Yes.” The woman told him of the attempts made on his life.

Pressure built in his chest, and his head throbbed. He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, hoping to ease the tension that was taking root in the muscles. “I’m sorry about the ambulance. And your patrol car. I’d offer to reimburse you for both, but I’ve no idea if I have the means to do so.” The enormity of the situation weighed him down. “This is all so surreal, like I’ve walked into a bad horror flick. Has the doctor said how long my mind will be blank?”

“I haven’t talked to her yet. We should let her know you’ve regained consciousness.” The deputy reached for the call button.

The deputy smelled like sunshine on a spring day. He breathed in deep, letting an image of a grassy meadow form. Was it a memory or just a generic thought made up of a lifetime of images that had no emotional attachment?

As she moved away, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Deputy Martin,” she replied in a brisk tone. She was tall and he’d guess shapely beneath the bulk of her uniform. He’d like to see her with her hair down and wearing a dress that showed off her long legs.

Whoa. Where had that thought come from?

Better to keep his mind on staying alive and not on some errant attraction to the woman who had rescued him from certain death. Pushing the attraction aside, he went with gratefulness. “Thank you, Deputy Martin, for saving my life.”

He wished he could do something more for her, but he had no idea what. He had no clothes, no identification and no money. He was trapped in this hospital room until he either remembered who he was or someone claimed him.

Or the man who wanted him dead got to him first.

Anger at the unknown man and dread that he might succeed heated his blood but did nothing to chase away the chill that had settled in his core. Was he married? His heart contracted in his chest. Did he have a family worried about him somewhere? He glanced at his left hand. No wedding band. A sign that he was single or just that he didn’t wear a ring? His pulse thrummed in his veins. Frustration drilled into his skull. What kind of man was he?

Why couldn’t he remember?

The door opened, and an attractive female doctor wearing a white lab coat walked in. John gauged her age around fifty. Her blond hair was pulled back in a low bun, and she viewed him with bright blue eyes. His gaze darted from the doctor to the deputy. The similarities between the two left little doubt they were related. Mother and daughter?

“Good morning,” the doctor said as she hustled forward. “I see you ripped out your IV. Are you in pain?”

He was, but he didn’t want meds. “I’m fine. I can handle it.”

Her mouth twisted. “Right. You gave us all quite a scare, on many levels. I’m Dr. Martin. What is your name?”

John grimaced. “I don’t know. I’ve lost my mind.”

Dr. Martin’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. “You sustained a rather dramatic blow to the head as well as some hypothermia. You have a linear skull fracture that will heal with time. I saw no evidence of a brain bleed. You certainly have a concussion, so you’ll need to be monitored for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Most likely the severity of the inciting event coupled with the force of the hit to your temple region caused your memory loss. Retrograde amnesia isn’t uncommon. What can you remember?”

“Nothing before waking up here.” John darted a glance at the deputy. She’d said he’d awakened last night and that was why she seemed familiar. But he had a feeling she was holding back, not telling him everything. Why would she do that?

The doctor listened to his heart and his lungs, then checked his pupils. “You seem to be in good order. I have no doubt your memories will return. Just be aware that they may come in spits and spurts and be disjointed. Like putting together a jigsaw puzzle. Eventually your memories will slide into place, and you’ll be back to your old self.”

Foreboding prickled his flesh. Whoever he’d been was someone worth killing. What had he been mixed up in? Something illegal? Was he a criminal? “I shouldn’t stay here. Whoever broke in last night might return. I don’t want to put anyone at risk.”

Deputy Martin’s gaze zeroed on the sheriff. “The captain’s place. I could take him there.”

The sheriff shook his head. “No. The safest place for him, and our town, is a jail cell.”

“What!” The deputy shook her head. “No way. We can’t lock him up without any evidence of wrongdoing. That would be setting us up for a lawsuit.”

The sheriff arched an eyebrow. “Not if putting him in a cell is for his own safety. I know the law, Audrey.”

Ah, so that was the pretty deputy’s name. John liked the sound of it. He rolled the name around his brain and tried to remember if he’d known her before his memories had been wiped clean, but his mind remained empty, like a void in space. At least thinking about Audrey didn’t induce any pain in his head.

Audrey’s shoulders dropped slightly, and her mouth pressed into a straight line. “You don’t think I can handle this situation?”

The distress in her voice had John tensing. He wasn’t sure what was at play between these people, but clearly she had a chip on her shoulder. A strange protective urge surfaced. His hand clenched a fistful of sheet. He didn’t know why he wanted to defend this woman. He wasn’t sure if she deserved to be defended or not. Maybe she couldn’t handle his situation. Maybe she could. But the one thing he did know was he didn’t want to cause her harm.

“I didn’t say that.” The sheriff’s tone suggested they’d discussed this conversational land mine before. “But you have to admit, this isn’t something we deal with often here in our little corner of the world.”

Audrey opened her mouth to reply, but the doctor held up a hand. “David, Audrey, take your discussion outside, please. This is upsetting to the patient.”

“No, wait,” John was quick to say. “The sheriff’s right. The best place for me is somewhere I won’t pose a threat to innocent bystanders.” Or a pretty deputy sheriff.

Audrey’s eyebrows pinched together as she turned her baby blues on him. “You won’t be comfortable there. You’re recovering from a nearly fatal head wound, not to mention nearly drowning and freezing to death in the ocean.”

“Better I’m uncomfortable than anyone getting hurt.”

Her gaze narrowed. “That’s very self-sacrificing.”

“Or very self-serving,” John countered. “I have no desire to die. If being locked up keeps me alive until my memory returns, then so be it.”

“That’s settled,” the sheriff intoned. “Carol, when you’re ready to release Mr. Doe, I’ll take him to the sheriff’s station.”

Carol’s gaze darkened with concern. “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” the sheriff confirmed. “It’s best for everyone this way.”

Audrey made a distinct harrumph noise but didn’t comment.

“I’ll have the nurse bring our patient’s clothing while I process his discharge papers,” the doctor told them. “He’ll need careful monitoring to make sure his concussion doesn’t worsen. If he loses consciousness again or throws up or complains of dizziness, call me right away.”

“We will.” The sheriff held the door open for the doctor. “I’ll be outside,” he said to Audrey before he followed the doctor out of the room.

“That went well,” Audrey said on a huff. She offered him a stiff smile. “Sorry you had to witness that little drama.”

“What was that about?” he asked. “Are you new to the job?” That had to play into the dynamics between the deputy and sheriff.

She lifted her chin. “Sort of. I did a year on patrol in Bangor before returning home to Calico Bay.”

“And how long ago did you return?”

“Less than a year.”

Okay. She was inexperienced. The sheriff was being cautious on many levels. John could appreciate that. He’d be the same if he had a fairly new recruit under him.

The thought stopped him. Recruit? What did that mean? Was he in law enforcement? Or was the thought just a random scenario that had nothing to do with his life prior to waking up in the hospital?

The throbbing in his head intensified. His stomach cramped.

“Hey, you better lie down,” Audrey said, moving quickly to his side. “You’re not looking so good.”

“Headache,” he said as he scooted back to rest his head on the pillow. “I don’t remember the last time I had food.”

“You don’t want the hospital’s grub,” Audrey warned. She withdrew a protein bar from the side pocket of her pants. “This will tide you over until we can get you some real food.”

Grateful for the snack, he took the bar, ripped open the top and consumed it in three bites and washed it down with another glass of water. The bar hit his stomach with a thud, but it stopped the cramping. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. She rested her hands on her utility belt. “What kind of seafood do you like? It’s the season for crab and monkfish now. But mussels are available, as are scallops.”

His mouth watered at the thought of some good seafood, but no memory surfaced to support the visceral reaction. “Any of that sounds delicious. You’re related to the doctor.”

A wry smile curved her lips. “Caught that, did you? She’s my mom, and the sheriff’s my great-uncle.”

“Good to know.”

She shrugged. “You were bound to find out eventually.”

“I’m not judging. You get flack for being related?”

“Some. But mostly there are those in town who don’t think a woman should be on duty. The world is slow to change here in Calico Bay.”

He could imagine that was hard for her. She struck him as independent and capable with a soft side that she kept close to the vest. “You said you returned here?”

“Born and raised until I went to college and the police academy.”

He admired her commitment to her roots. Did he have roots? He searched his brain until the pain made him back off.

A brunette dressed in scrubs entered the room carrying two bags. “Your clothes.” She set the bags on the end of the bed. “Hello, Audrey.”

“Morning, Sarah. How’s Rich?”

Sarah’s face softened. “He’s good. He’ll be four next week.”

“Wow. I hadn’t realized.” A curious sadness entered Audrey’s eyes. “I’ll stop by to wish him happy birthday.”

“He’d like that. Thank you.” Sarah turned to John, her green eyes sharpening with attentiveness. “Do you need help dressing?”

“No. I can manage on my own.”

Disappointment shot through Sarah’s gaze. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” He was glad when she exited. He met the deputy’s gaze. She didn’t look pleased. “What’s Sarah’s story?”

“She’s a widow, if that’s what you’re asking,” Audrey replied in a tense voice.

“Okay, it wasn’t. I’m more interested in why you looked so sad when you were talking about Rich, who I assume is her son.”

Surprise flashed in Audrey’s eyes. “Oh. Yes, Rich is her little boy. He’s such a sweetie.” That sadness was back. “Ben, Sarah’s husband, worked on a fishing boat. About two years ago there was an accident, and he was killed.”

Sympathy twisted in his gut. “That’s too bad. I’ve watched those fishing reality shows, and that life seems brutal.”

Audrey’s eyebrows hiked up and anticipation blossomed in her gaze, no doubt hoping his memories were returning. “You remember the show?”

He cocked his head, groping his mind for information. “Yes, sort of. I know I’ve seen it, but I can’t recall where or when.” And it was so maddening. He wanted to howl with frustration.

“Give it time,” she said as the light in her eyes turned slightly to disappointment. “You heard my mom. Bits and pieces.”

“Right.” He had a feeling patience wasn’t a strong suit of his, but he really didn’t know. He opened one of the bags and glanced inside. A pile of dark material pooled in the bottom. Then he looked at the pretty deputy and arched an eyebrow.

“I’ll wait outside.” Audrey’s cheeks pinkened as she walked out.

* * *

Audrey hesitated outside John Doe’s hospital room door and tried to calm the flutter in her stomach. So many thoughts and feelings were swirling through her at the moment. Empathy for John Doe. She couldn’t imagine losing her memories of her father, her childhood, her life. She could only imagine how bleak and desperate the man must be feeling. Not to mention the pain that seemed to hit him every time he tried to remember.

Then there was the embarrassment of having her mother and John witness the acrimony between her and her great-uncle. She usually did a better job of refraining from showing her emotions in public.

She could only attribute her lack of control to the strange and forceful reactions that flared within her the moment John awoke. Beyond empathy, she felt an intense protectiveness, which had manifested in her strong defense of him. A part of her knew it was logical for the sheriff to take the man into custody, but putting him behind bars without any proof of wrongdoing didn’t sit well with her sense of justice.

Hopefully John would soon regain his memories and they could figure out the truth behind what, who and why someone was trying to kill him.

* * *

Left alone, John withdrew his clothes and boots from the bags and stared at them for a long moment. He didn’t remember putting these on. Why was he dressed all in black? For nefarious purposes?

He was thankful the garments were dry as he quickly donned the cargo pants, turtleneck and socks but struggled with the boots. Finally, giving up, he padded to the door and stuck his head out. Audrey and her great-uncle stood near the nurses’ station. The brunette noticed him first and hurried toward him. He tried not to grimace as he held up his hand. “Can you ask Deputy Martin to come here?”

Nurse Sarah pursed her lips, clearly miffed by his request for someone other than her. “Sure.” She walked back to the desk and spoke to Audrey, who nodded and headed his way.

“You need me?”

He did. For reasons he couldn’t explain she grounded him, anchored him to the moment. When he looked at her, thought about her, he only felt peace, comfort. Strange, considering she’d said they’d only just met. Again that niggling feeing she was keeping a secret from him itched, demanding to be scratched. He let it go, confident he’d get her to open up and tell him. Where that confidence came from, he didn’t know. “I need help with the boots. Bending over to undo the laces is more than I can take right now.”

One honey-blond eyebrow arched. “All right.”

She crouched and undid the laces on the right boot and held it out for him to slip his foot into. He watched as her slender and capable hands quickly cinched up the laces and tied the boot snugly.

After the left boot was on, he stood. The world tilted.

He swayed. Audrey wrapped an arm around his waist and drew him close to her side. If he weren’t feeling a bit woozy, he’d have leaned in for a kiss.

He frowned at the thought. Okay, he found Audrey attractive and had some strange connection to her that he didn’t understand, but he’d better keep his emotions in check. He could be married. And he doubted the deputy would appreciate him taking advantage of the situation.

Was he a man that took advantage? He prayed not. Which led to another question—was he a man that prayed?

He hated not knowing who he was.

Some part of his brain said to let go of the past and become who he wanted to be for the future. But that wasn’t really a possibility. Not when there was someone out there willing to hurt other people to end his life.

He knew deep inside, with a certainty he couldn’t deny, he had a responsibility to uncover the truth and to protect those around him.

But he dreaded what the cost would be. He hoped and prayed it wouldn’t be the life of the deputy at his side.

FOUR

Sitting in the passenger seat of Deputy Martin’s car, John stared at the passing scenery, taking in the quaint and rustic town. The overcast sky washed the world in a gray light. Signs of recent snow collected on awnings and sidewalk gutters. Colorfully painted buildings added cheeriness. Had he seen this village before? If so, had he liked it the way he did now?

There were the usual businesses one would find in any town—a bank, a law firm and a real estate office—but the picturesque storefronts didn’t boast any recognizable brand names. Instead, there were places like Melinda’s Bakery, the Java Bean, Ted’s Fill and Eat.

They passed an Irish pub, numerous fish houses and an art gallery with the name Maine Inspired displaying blown-glass art and paintings in the window. His gaze snagged on the exercise studio advertising dance and fitness classes. He wondered if they had a treadmill and free weights. The need to pump some iron sent nervous energy rippling through him.

“This is a nice place,” he commented. Despite the threat stalking him, he felt comfortable in this town. Why was that?

“It’s quiet at this time of year,” Audrey said. “In spring the tourists start showing up and don’t fully vacate until after Oktoberfest. We have tons of festivals throughout the tourist months. Anything to drive up business to sustain us through the lean season. After Christmas most of the shops and restaurants close for vacations. Some people head to a warmer climate. Others hunker down and wait out the weather.”

“What do you do?”

“My job.” She lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “Though the sheriff insists we all take some vacation, so we rotate through, each taking a week off. Sometimes I stick around to catch up on reading or binge watch movies.”

That sounded good to him. “And other times?”

“A warm beach with warm water.”

Sun and sand. That sounded good to him. “I could go for a hot day in the Caribbean about now.”

She slanted him a glance. “You’ve been?”

He could picture crystal clear waters, beaches that stretched for miles and sea turtles swimming just below the surface. Memories? Or data stored in his brain from flipping through a travel magazine?

Frustration beat a steady rhythm behind his forehead. “Don’t know.”

There weren’t many pedestrians out on the main street running through the holiday-decorated town. He wondered where he’d be spending Christmas if he hadn’t nearly been fish bait. “It’s peaceful today.”

“Yes. Yesterday’s events were very dramatic for our town. Most people are staying off the streets.”

A rush of guilt swamped him. “I’m sorry about that. Sorry I washed up on your shore and brought danger to your community.”

Audrey brought her patrol car to a halt outside a restaurant called Franny O’Flannery’s. She looked him in the eye. “I’m not. The alternative would mean you were dead.”

Her words poked at him, reminding him how close he had come to death. And thanks to this woman, he was still here. He unbuckled and put his hand on the door handle.

“Nope,” Audrey said. “Stay put. Fran will bring our order to us.”

“Curbside service?” he remarked, studying her. Normal or had the deputy asked Fran for the courtesy?

“Perks of a small town. Here we go,” she said just as a knock on the window jarred his attention away from her face.

An older woman bent down to peer inside the cruiser. Her lined face was a wreath of smiles and her dark blue eyes regarded him with curiosity. He hit the button on the door panel, and the window slid silently down. A rush of cold air hit him in the face, along with the briny smells of the ocean. But he also caught the aroma of fried food, and his hunger returned with a vengeance.

“Morning, Fran.” Audrey leaned over him to talk to the woman at the window, bringing with her a whiff of apple shampoo.

His stomach muscles contracted. His hand tightened around the door handle to keep from reaching up to touch her golden hair.

“Good morning, Audrey,” Fran returned. “I see you have a guest.”

“Indeed I do,” Audrey replied. “This is John. John, Fran O’Flannery. She makes the best crab cakes in the whole state.”

Fran grinned. “I don’t know about that, but they are popular. Welcome to Calico Bay, John. Are you here on business—” the woman slanted an assessing glance at Audrey “—or pleasure?”

For some odd reason, heat infused his cheeks. Clearly Fran wondered if there was something going on between him and the pretty deputy. “I’m not sure.” What business would he have had been doing dressed as a commando wannabe?

“How much do I owe you?” Audrey said before straightening.

Fran handed him the large bag of food. The delicious smells made his insides cramp and his mouth salivate.

“I’ll put it on your tab. You can swing by later to settle up.”

“Much obliged, Fran,” Audrey said. “Give Don my regards.”

“Will do. Stay safe.” Fran walked back into the restaurant.

“That was nice of her to let you pay later,” John commented.

“Yeah, well, she knows where I live.” Audrey started up the car and continued to the sheriff’s station, a square white building with the fire department on one side and a large steepled church on the other. Audrey parked in front and led him inside, through a lobby where a woman sat behind a Plexiglas window. She waved at Audrey and eyed him with wariness.

John didn’t blame the woman. None of them knew what he was capable of, including him. Was he a criminal? He certainly had an element of danger dogging him.

They walked down a hallway with walls decorated with photos of the town. Summer scenes depicted smiling children at a fair. There were pictures of fishing boats with proud fishermen mugging for the camera. The gallery of photos filled him with a strange longing. Was there some place where he belonged? Did he have a community where people knew him? Loved him?

At the end of the hall, Audrey opened a door to a large squad room. A dozen desks, separated by short partition walls, formed a mazelike pattern stretching all the way to the back wall, ending at the closed office door with the sheriff’s nameplate. Only four people sat at their desks. They stopped what they were doing to stare at him. He studied each face for a moment but felt no sense of recognition.

Audrey stopped at her desk. He knew it was hers by the collage of photos on her partition. Pictures of her mother and a man he assumed was her father. A family photo with a preteen Audrey, her hair plaited in braids, standing in front of a fishing boat named Audrey. A younger adult version of Audrey in a cap and gown. College? Then her in full uniform at her academy graduation.

She pulled a vacant chair over. “Here. Have a seat.”

He’d expected her to take him straight to a cell. “Thanks.”

She laid out their lunch of crab cakes, tater tots and coleslaw on her desk then took her seat. She bowed her head for a moment, her lips moving silently. Something inside his chest loosened. He followed her example and bowed his head. Lifted up a silent plea. Lord, bless this food to my body. Heal me. Heal my mind. Amen.

The crab cakes were as delicious as advertised. “I can’t imagine having anything taste better than this.”

Audrey wiped her mouth with a napkin before replying. “Right. I’m telling you, Fran’s is the best. Her recipe has won awards.”

“Tell me about you.” He picked up a bottle of water that Fran had also supplied.

“Me?” She shook her head. “Not much to tell.”

“Are you married? Kids?” He didn’t think so, since there were no photos of her with a man or child, but it felt normal to ask, like something he’d do in his life prior to waking up in the hospital.

Her gaze collided with his. “No to both. What about you?”

His mouth twisted in a rueful grimace. “I wish I knew. You’d think if I were married, if I had a family waiting for me that would be something I’d remember.”

“Unless you wanted to forget.”

He considered her words. His pulse ticked up a notch. “Maybe that’s why I can’t remember my past. There’s something I want to forget.”

“Being hit over the head and thrown in the ocean are traumatic events. Your brain may be protecting you.”

“I don’t want to be protected. I want to remember.” He picked up a tater tot. But his appetite fled.

He hated this not knowing. He had a horrible feeling that something bad was happening, or was going to happen, and he needed to stop whatever it was as soon as possible. Considering there was an assassin trying to kill him, his sense of doom was understandable. But there was something else dancing at the periphery of his mind. Yet when he tried to lock on to the thought, a sharp pain was his reward.

Fatigue dragged at him. He could barely keep his eyes open. “Thank you for lunch, Deputy Martin.”

“You’re welcome.” She canted her head. “You look wrung out. The cell has a cot that I’ve heard is pretty comfortable.”

That comment elicited a smile. “Critiques from past residents?”

She returned his smile. “Something like that.”

He liked her smile. It made her blue eyes light up. His gaze drifted down her straight nose to her lush, full lips. He noticed the slight cleft in her chin that gave her face character.

She rose and held out her hand. “Come on, I’ll show where you’ll be spending the next few hours.”

He stared at her smooth skin and long, slender fingers before grasping her hand. Her fingers closed around his, and she tugged him to his feet. She was surprisingly strong, yet her hand felt almost delicate within his clasp. The dichotomy left him unnerved. He braced his feet apart. The room momentarily swerved then righted itself. Expecting her to let go, he loosened his hold, but for a fraction of a second she held on, her gaze fixated on their joined hands. Then she yanked her hand back and rested it on her utility belt. “This way.” She turned and walked briskly away.

He rolled the tension from his shoulders and followed her.

The cell wasn’t big by any means, but it was roomy enough and thankfully empty. He didn’t relish the idea of sharing the space.

Audrey opened the door. “Sorry about this.”

“Don’t be.” He stepped inside. “This is the safest place for me. No one can get hurt with me in here, and I’ll be able to rest without worry.”

“I guess.” But she didn’t sound convinced. That was sweet. He liked that she was upset on his behalf. He wondered if anyone else had ever been upset on his behalf and if so, who?

Needing to reassure her, he moved closer and reached out to tuck a stray strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Are you always so accommodating with your guests?”

“No. But these circumstances are a bit out of the ordinary.”

His finger skimmed over her jaw before he dropped his hand. “I appreciate all you’re doing for me. You’re a very caring person, Deputy Martin.”

He liked the way her cheeks took on a rosy color. “Audrey.”

A grin tugged at his mouth. “Okay. Audrey. Such a pretty name for a pretty woman.”

Her eyes widened a fraction, then something cold flashed in her gaze and she stepped back. “And you’re charming. A flirt.”

Wary that he’d offended her, he said, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s been my experience that charming men aren’t to be trusted.”

Had the man who hurt her been a boyfriend? “Don’t paint every man with the same brush as whoever hurt you.”

She made a wry sound in her throat. “Easy for you to say. I don’t know you. I don’t know if I should trust you.”

“But you want to,” he observed, realizing how badly he wanted her to trust him. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have shared your lunch with me. You wouldn’t feel so bad for locking me up.”

She frowned and pressed her lips into a straight line. He much preferred when she smiled.

“It’s okay,” he told her. “You shouldn’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me.”

“I want to release your photo to the media. See if someone comes forward to identify you.”

“You should. I’m guessing you already ran my prints and face through your databases.”

“Yes, with no results.”

He wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or more alarming. The thumping in his head intensified. His energy waned. He needed to sit before he fell down. But he didn’t want her to leave, which was exactly why he said, “I’m sure you have work to do. And I really need to rest.”

She nodded. “I do. I’ll be checking on you every two hours.”

“I look forward to it.”

Without a word, she closed the cell door with a deafening click that echoed in his ears long after she walked away.

* * *

Night came faster than Audrey would have imagined, despite the fact that December in Maine the sun set around four in the afternoon. She switched on her desk lamp because the dim overhead lights weren’t bright enough for her. The station was quiet. Only a few deputies were at their desks. The sheriff had come and gone, promising he’d be back to relieve her of guard duty for John Doe. She was surprised the sheriff didn’t squawk at the overtime she was accruing.

She’d spent the day doing paperwork that had stacked up over the past few weeks. Though she had trouble concentrating on vandalism of the local middle school or Mrs. Keel’s runaway cat.

Audrey kept replaying John’s words.

Such a pretty name for a pretty woman.

She wasn’t sure why his compliment had affected her. Maybe because the first time he saw her he’d thought she was beautiful, like a Christmas ornament. She’d chalked his flirting up to his injury. But earlier he’d been lucid. She didn’t trust his flattering words. He was one of those types of men who used their good looks and charisma to their advantage. He might not be able remember his name and his past, but he certainly remembered how to use his charm.

She’d have to be careful around him, because for some unfathomable reason she wanted him to find her attractive.

She gave herself a mental shake. When had her ego hit bottom?

She didn’t need a man or anyone else to make her feel good about herself. She was capable, smart and knew what she wanted in life. And it wasn’t a charming stranger, no matter how attractive, or what yearnings he stirred.

The radio attached to her shirt came on. Ophelia’s disembodied voice came through clear. “Sean is here to see you.”

Audrey sighed. She pressed the talk button. “Send him back.” She liked Sean, but she wasn’t interested in dating him, though he’d asked on numerous occasions. It wasn’t that the EMT wasn’t handsome or kind or that they didn’t get along. They did. As friends. There was no spark between them. She thought of him more as a brother. She and his older sister had been friends forever.

A few moments later, Sean leaned against the partition wall next to her desk. Today he wore jeans and a plaid shirt beneath a puffy dark blue jacket. The stubble on his face matched his dark auburn hair. The only sign he’d been in a car crash yesterday was the purple bruise on his forehead. His searching gaze was trained on her face. “How’s it going?”

“So far it’s been an uneventful night,” she replied. “How are you doing?”

“I’ve a tough noggin, or so your mother tells me,” he said.

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