SHROUDED PAST

United States marshal Eli Cayne saved Julia Galloway’s life once…and he’s prepared to do it again. But his task would be easier if she could remember him—or the murderer who almost put her in an early grave and seems to be hunting her once more. To protect Julia from the latest threat against her life, Eli has to consider the possibility that he put an innocent man in jail. Julia has no memories of the serial killer called the Hangman, though, and no reason to trust Eli. But with the killer getting closer, she must work with Eli to confront her past—and the feelings growing between them.

“Eli…open your eyes…please…”

A faint flicker of his eyelashes and finally she could glimpse the pale blue of his eyes. Unfocused. She could see his pupils weren’t dilated. Good. He coughed more and closed his eyes. He became still again, though continued breathing. She examined the cut to his forehead—just a small trickle of watery blood from the gaping wound. At least the icy water had constricted the open blood vessels and stopped any bleeding.

As the last bit of strength seeped from her, she begged him, “Eli, please, open your eyes. Wake up.”

And he did as she asked. His eyes locked onto hers with a flicker of recognition. In that moment, she knew he would live.

His hand found its way to her face. “There are those brown eyes I’ve been waiting to see.”

Again, that phrase that always brought so much peace.

What did it mean?

JORDYN REDWOOD is a pediatric ER nurse by day, suspense novelist by night. She pursued her dream of becoming an author by first penning her medical thrillers Proof, Poison and Peril. Jordyn hosts Redwood’s Medical Edge, a blog helping authors write medically accurate fiction. Living near the Rocky Mountains with her husband, two beautiful daughters and one crazy dog provides inspiration for her books and she loves to get email from her readers at jredwood1@gmail.com.

Fractured
Memory
Jordyn Redwood

www.millsandboon.co.uk

I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.

—Phillipians 1:3

For Kathy Springer. My longest and most dear friendship.

Acknowledgments

Every author knows no book is written in isolation, and this book was no different. Particularly this novel as it required me to write outside my comfort zone on a very short deadline. Thanks to Laurie Kingery, Lisa Carter, Candace Calvert, Casey Herringshaw, Liz Solan and Norma Mai for providing insight, edits and overall support as I navigated my way through the Blurb to Book contest. Thank you to Karl for providing law enforcement insight (as always).

To my agent Greg Johnson—thanks for always being there when I need you.

Also, heartfelt appreciation to Emily Rodmell and all the Love Inspired editors for your interaction in the Blurb to Book team forums that definitely helped me write the best manuscript I could for a genre I needed to learn a lot about. I’ve truly been welcomed into the Harlequin family with open, loving arms. Most of all, I want to thank fellow book addicts. Without you, none of this would be possible and I’m always happy to connect with you via email at jredwood1@gmail.com.

Contents

COVER

BACK COVER TEXT

INTRODUCTION

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

TITLE PAGE

BIBLE VERSE

DEDICATION

Acknowledgments

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

EPILOGUE

Dear Reader

EXTRACT

COPYRIGHT

ONE

The blank stare in Julia Galloway’s eyes confirmed Eli Cayne’s worst fear.

She didn’t remember him. The amnesia had erased every moment he’d spent ensuring that she would live after the Hangman nearly claimed her life.

“Julia Galloway?” he asked, his voice husky with undeniable emotion at seeing her for the first time in eighteen months. The feelings he thought he’d stomped into submission surfaced with a vengeance.

Julia reflexively raised a hand to cover the scars where the rope had carved into her skin. “Who are you?” The ringlets of her blond hair dripped water on her black T-shirt and red plaid pajama bottoms.

Eli held his badge at her eye level. “I’m U.S. Marshal Eli Cayne. May I come inside? There’s a matter of great importance I need to discuss with you.”

Doubt washed over her beautiful face. Even if she didn’t remember the attack, the lingering fear was evident.

He showed her the manila envelope he held in his other hand. “Our office has received information that there has been a hit ordered—on your life.”

She clenched the black fabric of her shirt tight into her other hand, her knuckles pale under the pressure. “Excuse me?”

“Someone has compiled a profile of information about you for a hit man to use to kill you. I’m here to get you to a safe place. Please, can I come inside?”

At first, the engine accelerating was distant until the screech of tires brought the hairs on Eli’s neck to attention. Instinct propelled his hand forward, hard into Julia, pushing her into the foyer. A bullet whistled past his ear, shattering a picture frame directly behind the remnants of her silhouette.

Julia landed flat on her back on the hardwood floor. Eli delivered a swift kick to the door, throwing it closed and turned to lock the dead bolt. He fell to his knees at her side. Her eyes were wide with fright, and her mouth gaped open as she tried to draw a breath.

“You’re all right. You just got the wind knocked out of you.” He pulled one of her hands to his chest. “Slow, easy breaths.”

Another bullet crashed through her front picture window. He had to move her to a safe place.

As Eli scooped her up, his fingers caught in the tangles of her long, wet blond hair. He carried her up the staircase just a few steps shy of the front door. Higher ground would be his only advantage in this fight against an unknown enemy. At the crest of the stairs, three doorways confronted him. He shouldered through the first one on this right.

A bathroom. No windows.

He swung her around and pulled the shower curtain aside resting her in the bathtub. “Stay here.”

Julia shook her head. “No.” Her brown eyes held more defiance than her whispered response.

“Stay here,” he ordered. “I’m locking this door. Don’t open it until you hear me say the words red daisies.”

He pushed the lock closed on the door and yanked it behind him, testing the knob once to make sure it was secure. He drew his weapon and crossed the hallway into Julia’s bedroom.

“Shots fired. I need backup,” he whispered into his wrist mic.

His FBI liaison, Ben Murphy, sounded distant—out of breath. “I’m in foot pursuit of the subject’s car...trying to get...a license plate. Local PD notified.”

Good. Knowing extra help was on the way left Eli free to accomplish what he needed to do to protect Julia. He couldn’t assume the rest of the house was clear. The number of assailants that could be after Julia was unknown. Was someone lurking in her home now—waiting for the perfect opportunity to attack?

He hugged the wall of her bedroom. It was clean and uncluttered. There was a computer desk with a bookshelf above adorned with several trophies. Competitive swimming if he remembered correctly. A Bible lay open on her bed, pillows piled high against the headboard.

Slowly, he slid open the door to the master bathroom and noted soapy water in the tub. He’d interrupted her from a soak and quiet time. Backing out of the bedroom, he entered the other room. A spare bedroom. The closet clear.

Back in the hallway, he faced the stairs. So far, Julia had followed his direction. The door to the bathroom remained closed. He eased by and took the stairs in cautious increments. At the bottom to his left was a small dining room. A quick check showed no one hiding under the table. To his right was a small sitting room. Shards of sprayed glass glittered in the early-morning light as the curtains waved in the soft breeze. In the distance, the faint sound of sirens approached his location.

Eli faced the hallway toward the back of the first floor with the TV room and kitchen. From the fruity aroma he guessed she was brewing tea even as the color of her eyes reminded him of the rich chocolate brown of coffee.

Those eyes...

He shook his head to clear the image.

Focus.

Distraction was always the first nail in the coffin of a law enforcement officer.

The pantry was clear. Single-car garage with an older-model white SUV. No one underneath. He opened the door to her backyard. Small, quaint. No high trees or shrubs that could be hiding a suspect. Cheerful flowers edged the neatly cut grass with garden shoots just venturing up from the warmed spring ground.

He reentered the house and went back to the front door, surveying the yard. Nothing seemed out of place. Even though the concussive sounds of gunshots still rang in his ears, they hadn’t drawn a single curious neighbor from their home. Not one eye peeked out from behind closed curtains. Was everyone at work already? He turned back around and closed the door.

Time to check on Julia and release her from the small bathroom he’d locked her in.

He pocketed his weapon. Into his mic, he said, “Ben, what’s your location?”

“Walking back to the house. Lost the suspect. Description of vehicle and partial plate sent to local PD.”

With one foot on the stairs he looked up only to see Julia with a revolver aimed straight at his head.

* * *

Julia sucked in a breath. If only she could stop her heart from beating so fast. Her chest ached.

“Who are you really?” she asked.

Either Eli was who he said he was or he was posing as the good guy to cover his true intentions. His pale blue eyes narrowed at her question; he was clearly contemplating what explanation he could muster to keep her from pulling the trigger.

He kept his hands visible and still. “I am a U.S. Marshal. Eli Cayne. I showed you my identification.”

“I barely got a look at it before someone shot at me.” She squared her shoulders and adjusted the aim of her weapon. This was what she had practiced. What she always prepared for. She had rehearsed this scenario over and over until she hardened her mind to ignore her heart if she really had to kill someone.

“At us.” Eli pointed his thumb to his chest. “I was right here, too. Those bullets could have found me just as easily.”

“A law enforcement ID can be bought.”

He raked his fingers through his chestnut hair before settling a thumb and forefinger on his stubbled chin. “Julia, if I wanted to kill you I would have done it already. Right when you answered the door.”

“You could be working with someone.”

“You’re right. I could. Can you hear those sirens? They’re awfully close. Why would there be help on the way if I was the killer? Did you call them?”

Her shoulders relaxed, and she eased the weapon down a bit. The sincere look in his eyes became more convincing than her resolve to shoot an intruder.

“At some point, you’re going to have to trust that what I’ve said is the truth. I’m here to keep you safe.”

Julia lowered the revolver. “Red daisies?”

“What?”

“Those were the best safe words you could come up with?”

Eli’s relieved smile solidified her impression that he couldn’t truly be nefarious. “I had to think of something on the spot that a killer wouldn’t say. It was the best I could do.”

She pointed the weapon to the floor. Her eyes darted to the side as a fist pounded her door.

Eli raised a calming hand. “That’s my partner on your case, Ben Murphy. Are we good here? Can I let him in?”

She motioned to her pajama pants. “I’m not entirely presentable.”

“Get dressed and then come down. There’s a lot we need to talk about.”

Julia backed away from the top of the stairs and closed her bedroom door behind her. She crossed the room to her closet and pulled out a pair of jeans and a floral turtleneck. In the bathroom, she brushed through her wet hair. Her hands still trembled from the massive adrenaline release.

What she wanted back was the peaceful morning she’d planned. After three hard days as a nurse in the pediatric ER, especially after losing a child from drowning, she needed some quiet to recoup.

The gunfire shattered the solitude she so badly needed. Had the horrors she’d already survived come back to haunt her? What was it about Eli that tugged at the erased threads of her mind? There was something about him, his presence, which felt warm and homey—like hot chocolate on a cool autumn evening. In the wake of her parents’ death, it was a feeling she craved.

There was a three-month gap in her memory starting from the time of the attack until she entered rehab for a brain injury caused by a lack of oxygen at nearly being hung to death. From the subsequent brain swelling, Julia had been in a coma and on life support for a month. Then, according to her grandfather, she’d spent another two months in the hospital until she grew strong enough for a rehab facility. Her remarkable recovery had astonished doctors, who were convinced she would never be anything other than persistently vegetative.

Julia’s first memories were shrouded in a foggy sea where she relearned to eat, walk and speak. Even now, nearly two years after the incident, there were only fleeting moments when Julia could sense memories from those three months trying to break through the imprisonment of her brain injury.

Six months after her near murder, the Hangman’s trial started.

Julia didn’t follow the news threads about the trial. The prosecutor chose not to have her testify, as her fractured memory was of no use to his case. The forensic evidence the Hangman left behind was enough to seal his fate.

Even though her mind was healed, she had to convince everyone else she was all right. The Colorado State Board of Nursing insisted she complete additional testing and clinicals to ensure that she was competent enough to practice nursing.

Almost two years of her life given away to a criminal. For her own sanity, she had made a conscious choice to not make attempts to retrieve the lost time, suppressing her normally inquisitive nature to avoid everything on the internet about the man who tried to kill her—a doctor who had been a coworker.

Someone she had once called her friend.

Now that she had started back nursing in the pediatric ER, all she wanted to do was heal kids and stamp out disease—as they always said at work.

Had that been wise? Did her lack of knowledge about the Hangman and his crimes put her at a disadvantage now?

She quickly dressed. Running shoes seemed to be the best option for a day where she had already been shot at before nine o’clock in the morning. From the stairwell, male voices snarled like lions arguing over territory, but as soon as her feet hit the landing, they stopped.

Eli broke through the trio of uniformed officers and led her to her kitchen. He pulled a chair out for her. Another man, dressed in a charcoal-gray pinstriped suit, followed him.

“Julia, this is my partner, Ben Murphy. We’ll be working together on your case. He’s from the FBI.”

The FBI and the U.S. Marshals working together?

Ben reached his hand out to her. “I wish we could have had a calmer introduction.”

His hand enveloped hers. Strong grip. His black hair, longer and swept off to one side, stood in stark contrast to his emerald-green eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Ben.” She sat in the chair, pulling her hand from his.

Ben continued. “Since the Hangman’s case was under federal jurisdiction because of the Wyoming murder victim in his series, your death threat was forwarded to us by a local parole officer. However, FBI staffing issues provided an opportunity for us to work with the marshals, who are more skilled at protecting witnesses. We bring different assets to your case.”

“Tea?” Eli asked.

She nodded.

“Pumpkin spice creamer and two teaspoons of sugar?” Eli stated more than asked.

Her lips pursed. How did he know?

He went directly to the cups and pulled one from the cupboard. No riffling around the kitchen in a blind search.

Electrical currents pulsed through her chest. He knew where they would be.

How was this possible?

“I see you’re getting low on your stockpile.” Eli shook the container to emphasize his point and examined it closer. “No matter, it expired two months ago.” He pulled out the trash drawer and chucked it in.

He not only knew her but knew her home.

“Who are you?” Julia demanded.

He turned to her, cup and spoon in hand, stirring her concoction slowly. “Eli Cayne. Marshals—”

“No.” She held her hand up. “Who are you to me?”

He crossed the kitchen, set the cup down in front of her and turned to his cohort. “Can you give us ten minutes?” Ben handed him the manila folder. The one Eli claimed marked the end of her life.

Eli unbuttoned his suit jacket, and she noted dark patches on the broad expanse of his tailored shirt. Water from her hair, from when he had carried her up the stairs. Something about being held in this man’s arms had felt so strangely familiar. Comforting. Julia pushed the thought aside and watched as he lowered himself into the chair across from her. She gripped the cup between her hands to cut the fear-laden chill that set in her bones.

“I used to work for the Aurora Police Department. I was the lead detective on your case. I’ve only been with the marshals’ office for about a year and a half.”

How much did she want to know about their past? Had there been anything besides a professional relationship between them? Pins and needles rushed over her body. She felt light-headed. Fear rose within her. The daily battle to keep it at bay faltered.

Julia placed her palm on the envelope and slid it on the table between them. “Tell me about this. Tell me why you’re here.”

Eli pinched the flimsy metal clasp together, pushed the flap open and pulled out the documents. He fanned the pages out, turning them around so she could see them. “This is what we call a hit package. It’s typically put together by someone who wants to hire a hit man for murder. It has all the pertinent information of your comings and goings. Photos of your house. Your vehicle and its license plate. Your gym. Place of employment...”

His insistent litany became distant in her ears as she gathered up the pages. The details of her life laid out like a scrapbook for a killer. Her schedule. Where she went grocery-shopping. Where she volunteered. A picture of her grandfather and his assisted living center. Had her papa been put into danger because of her? Her throat tightened—her turtleneck like a gloved hand around her throat. As much as she loathed wearing it, the collar hid what she could not confront.

“Who is this person?” Her voice broke from clenched vocal cords.

Eli sighed. “At this point, there doesn’t seem to be an obvious candidate. Dr. Heller, who murdered several people and nearly killed you, is on death row. This is a copy. The original is in evidence. We’re examining it to see if it will give us clues as to who this person might be.”

“Where did it come from?”

“It was given anonymously to a local parole officer who then delivered it to the FBI. Can you look at these pictures of the other victims? We never found a strong tie between them and you other than a health-care background. Do you know any of these women?”

Julia glanced at the photos. Some did seem vaguely familiar, but none that she knew by name. She straightened the pages and handed them back to Eli. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. I don’t know if you’re aware, but I suffered a brain injury as a result of the hanging. I have post-traumatic amnesia. Any memories from the time of my attack until I went into rehab are gone. The next months are fuzzy and...” She brushed the tears from her eyes. Why did something she couldn’t remember traumatize her so deeply?

Eli covered her hand with his. Familiar again, unnerving yet protective at the same time. How could one touch be all those things?

She cleared her throat and continued. “I was sick for a long time. I’ve just gotten things back to normal. If there is such a thing after what I lived through.”

“Julia, what’s important right now is to get you somewhere safe. When we do that, hopefully we’ll have time to figure this out.”

Hopefully? His words didn’t instill confidence. The threat was serious and even he didn’t conclusively sound as though he could keep her safe. Was he depending on her remembering something she couldn’t?

“What are you asking me to do?”

“I’m asking you to come with me. We’re placing you in protective custody until we find the person who wants to kill you.”

TWO

Julia pulled two suitcases from underneath her bed and laid them open on top of her hope chest. In that chest were many things she treasured from people close to her who had died. Her mother’s journal. Her father’s old baseball glove. Patchwork quilts her grandmother had sewn for great-grandchildren she would never know. Eli slid the Bible toward him and placed his index finger on the highlighted text.

“‘Fear thou not, for I am with thee. Be not dismayed, for I am thy God. I will strengthen thee. Yea, I will help thee. Yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.’ Isaiah 41:10.”

Julia stilled and watched him smooth his hand over the crinkled pages. It unnerved her to hear his voice read something so intimate. Was he reading the notes she scribbled in the margin? Her most closely held thoughts? Those pages were worn with overuse. How often had she read this verse to herself to change her heart?

To help her believe that God could provide peace from the fear and worry that plagued her.

How could she get the Bible back without seeming to be trying to hide something from him?

“Do you believe in God?” she asked, holding out her hand.

He closed the Bible gently and held it out for her. “I do, but I have to admit I’m a little jealous.”

She pulled the book from his hand. “Of me? Why?”

“You seem...intimate...with those words.”

Ben, who had been leaning against her door frame, walked to the center of her bedroom. “Julia, you can’t bring anything that could potentially disclose your location. No cell phone. Nothing electronic. No computer. E-reader. We can’t take any chances.”

Julia put the Bible at the bottom of her suitcase. “How many days do you think I’ll be gone? I need to notify the hospital. I need to tell my grandfather something so he won’t worry.”

Ben neared her. “You can’t say anything that might give a hint that you’re being put in protective custody. Tell your grandfather you’re leaving on vacation and won’t be available by phone for a few days.”

“But I call him every evening.”

“You can’t,” Ben insisted. “Not for a while. I know it seems harsh, but it’s as much for your safety as it is for his.”

Eli eased Ben away from her with a nudge to his shoulder.

“Julia, I don’t want you to worry about your grandfather,” Eli reassured her. “I’ll personally ensure his safety. The marshals’ office will have someone keep eyes on him, as well.”

“Is there any other close family we should be concerned about?” Ben asked.

Julia turned away and walked to her closet. She couldn’t bear saying it. That she was alone in the world. Her parents were dead. No siblings.

“Ben, let me worry about Julia’s extended family. Like you said, this is my area of expertise.”

Had Eli said that to protect her from having to talk about her lack of a family? Did he know all about her past?

“Also, we’ll need a cover story for the hospital,” Ben said. “Perhaps you could tell them your grandfather has had a medical emergency and you need to go on a leave of absence. You don’t know when you’ll be back.”

With several items of clothing in her hands, she turned back to face them. “You have no idea how long I’ll be gone?”

Eli was the one who met her gaze. “We’ll try and resolve this matter as soon as we can, but we can’t give you a time frame. I’m sorry.”

“Can I have a few minutes alone?”

Eli motioned Ben out of the room. “Let’s give her some space.”

“I need to make some calls,” Julia said.

Eli nodded and closed the door behind him.

Julia neared the window that looked out over her backyard. She didn’t want this to be her life—to be forced to run when she finally found some measure of peace and purpose again. But hadn’t that been what she was doing psychologically by not attempting to fill in the pieces of those missing months? This was just the physical expression of what she’d done mentally for a long time. She had struggled to let the past be the past. Now it pursued her, and she wasn’t prepared to handle what could happen. And what piece of the puzzle did Eli hold? How did he fit?

She picked up the phone. “Papa?”

“Dear Julia. It’s early for you to be calling.”

Her grandfather’s voice calmed her nerves. “Papa, I don’t want you to worry, but I won’t be able to call for a while.”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“It’s not something I can talk about right now. Please, just know I’ll be in good hands.”

“Is everything all right? I don’t like how vague you’re being. It’s not like you to hide something from me.”

The tears fell freely. How her heart ached to not be able to disclose what was happening to the one man who’d given her everything. “It’s been a rough few days.”

“How so?”

“A child I took care of died. We couldn’t save him.”

“How did he die?”

“He drowned in a hotel swimming pool.”

“If only you could have been there to pull him out. You were a great lifeguard. No one died on your watch.”

What her grandfather said was true. If only every parent knew CPR. A child in these modern times shouldn’t die of something so preventable. There was a point of no return despite all the advances of modern medicine. Julia knew—she had almost been there. “It was just too late by the time he got to us.”

“I’m sorry. I know you take it personally when a child dies. Your heart is so big, Julia, but though you feel upset by this incident, that’s not what’s really going on.”

“I promise to tell you someday soon—just not right now.”

“I’ll expect a full explanation.” Her grandfather’s law enforcement background would let him be appeased.

“Yes, sir.”

“I love you, Julia. Don’t ever forget that.”

Her chest heaved. She bit her lip, and tears rushed down her cheeks. She hadn’t realized Eli had entered her room again until he sat on the bed next to her, and the movement tilted her body into his side.

He brought his arm up around her shoulder. “I’m going to get you through this, Julia. I promise. I’ll take care of your grandfather. Nothing will happen to him.”

And somehow she felt it wasn’t the first time he said those words.

* * *

It always surprised Eli how nondescript safe houses looked. This one was a town house in a middle class neighborhood. He parked in the driveway and got out. Julia didn’t immediately follow him.

Best to give her some time to absorb her surroundings.

He went around to the trunk and removed her two suitcases. As he rounded the car to the passenger side, she ventured out, edging her car door closed. He motioned her to follow him up the porch steps. At the door was a key code lock. He punched in a few numbers and entered, holding the door open for her.

“We change the code at the beginning of every week,” he said. “We feel it’s more secure than having a key floating around.” Directly ahead was a staircase. “The only thing down here is the garage entrance and the utility closet. Everything else is upstairs.”

Eli waited for her to climb the steps. Cautiously, she stepped as deliberately as a cub exploring beyond his mother’s boundaries. At the top, he motioned to the left. She took the lead and opened the door. He scooted in behind her and rested the suitcases at the bottom of the bed.

“There are cameras in every room but the bathroom.” He pointed out the one in the corner. “We’ll generally leave you alone, monitoring you through the cameras. I’m going to give you this.” He pulled a balled chain from his pocket that held a white square with a prominent red button.

“My grandfather wears one of these.”

He held it up, and she dutifully bent her head forward as he laid the chain over the turtleneck. A soft tendril of her hair slid over his fingers, stirring a warm memory. Eli forced himself to stay on task. This woman’s safety was the only priority. “It’s essentially the same thing. I’ll let you decide if you want to wear it under your shirt or not.”

She clasped her fingers around it. “I press it and you’re here at my whim?”

Her smile was timid but unexpected heat surged through his chest. “Within minutes, someone will be here. Preferably me.”

“How does this work?”

“You’ll be monitored twenty-four-seven by a team of agents. We don’t want to be obvious to the neighbors, but their response time is a couple of minutes if they see anything concerning or you feel like something is out of place.”

“I should unpack?”

“Do what feels comfortable to you. We don’t want you to feel like a prisoner.” He handed her a sheet of paper. “This is the phone number for the agents who are monitoring you when I’m not here. This number won’t change, so I suggest you memorize it. If you want to go anywhere, they’ll take you.”

She took the slip of paper from his hand. “You’re not staying today?”

Relief swept through him. Was it possible that she saw something in him she remembered? Or was it just merely that he’d been there to save her life this morning?

“I’m going to leave you with Ben tonight as I follow up on forensic items from the hit package, and I’m going to pay a visit to your grandfather. I had a few grocery items placed in the kitchen that should get you by until tomorrow.”

“Thanks for everything you’re doing, Eli.”

“I’ve upended your life. I’ll try to make the transition as easy as possible. There are a few things I want to go over with you, since this hit man seems to prefer bullets.” Eli leaned against the dresser. “If we’re in a car getting shot at, I need you to get as low as you can.”

“Wouldn’t that be natural instinct?”

Eli smiled. “You would think so until it actually happens to you. People tend to freeze in a crisis, but your emergency nursing background probably won’t allow that happen. You’re trained to work through that—to fight instead of run.”

“One thing in our favor.”

“Julia...” His voice trailed, his eyes distant. “If you’re ever taken hostage, the best thing is for you to work with us to try and get free. Try to keep the assailant’s head in clear view.”

For a kill shot.

“Do something. Anything. Drop your weight unexpectedly, but whatever you decide, just give me a warning before you do.”

“Like what?” Julia asked.

“We’ll keep the words red daisies as a code. For just you and me—okay?”

“You think someone could actually get in here?”

He shook his head. “It’s unlikely, but we try and plan for all contingencies.”

“I’ll see you—”

“In the morning. What time are you usually up?”

“I work day shift, so I’m used to being up by five thirty.”

“I won’t wake you before then.”

He turned to leave, trying to squash the thought of taking Ben’s place over the next few hours. If he didn’t solve the mystery of the hit package, Julia Galloway would never be safe.

* * *

Julia began to unpack her clothes into the plain, unvarnished pine dresser that sat in the corner.

How many other people placed their belongings here? Did all of them live through their experience? When she pulled the drawer open, pen-gouged letters in the bottom of the top drawer read...

I was here. Kristin.

Worry. That was what this statement meant to Julia. This person wanted something permanent to mark her existence. A note that someone would read to imprint the memory of her in their mind.

How frail human existence was. Another lesson from the medical trenches.

I will remember you, Kristin. Who will remember me?

Loneliness overwhelmed her. An ever-present ache in her chest that was hard to stymie. Her fingers trailed over the front of her Bible. The words inside were the only reminder that she was never truly alone.

Hugging herself, she knew she wanted more. Physical contact with someone who loved her. God meant people to be in relationship with one another.

Her life...her history...meant isolation.

Nothing could change what she’d already lived through, but neither did she feel it was good for things to remain the same. It had felt unexpectedly natural to be in Eli’s arms—she wanted to have that feeling again.

Julia had decided to pack a week’s worth of items and wash them if her exile extended beyond that. Five pairs of jeans. Ten pairs of socks. Some items it was best to have extra of in case the worst happened.

That was another lesson of the ER—always prepare for the worst-case scenario.

Next came the stack of short-sleeve shirts. Long-sleeve shirts. Plenty of scarves. Three pairs of pajamas.

Her gun sat at the very bottom. Julia glanced around the bedroom, trying to find the best place for it. She tucked it underneath the mattress and then stowed the suitcases in the bottom of the closet.

After everything had a proper place, she ventured into the kitchen. Ben sat at the two-seat kitchen table, his laptop open in front of him. He seemed lost in thought—his gaze drawn to the view of the children’s play equipment that backed up to the town house, a small park for families that lived close by.

Children played while their watchful mothers stayed nearby. Several boys threw mulch chips at one another. She cleared her throat. He broke his gaze and turned her way.

“All settled?” he asked, closing his laptop.

“As well as can be expected.”

He rose from the table. “Can I get you anything? I think Eli put some tea in the cabinet.”

“You sit. I don’t want to disturb your work.” Julia walked into the kitchen and began to scour the cabinets. She found several boxes of flavored tea. On the stove top was a stainless steel teakettle. She lifted it and filled it with water. “Can I make some for you?”

“I’ll try anything once. Coffee is my go-to beverage.”

“You know, I never got the taste for coffee, which always surprises people when I tell them I work in health care.”

“That does strike me as odd.”

“How do I make a long story short? During nursing school, I worked with a hospice nurse. When we were visiting a family after her patient died, they offered me a cup.”

“I take it that didn’t go over so well?”

Julia chuckled. “It was the strongest, most bitter liquid I’d ever put in my mouth, but I drank it because I didn’t want to appear thoughtless. From then on—”

“No coffee for you.”

Not to mention that the aroma of the coffee had also been forever linked in her mind to the stench of death. Julia shuddered and turned the water off, set the teakettle on the stove and turned on the gas burner. “Exactly, just tea. So, what is it you do for the FBI?”

“I guess you could call me a jack-of-all-trades. My specialty is computer forensics, but I hated being cooped up indoors, which was part of why I joined the FBI—to get to work in the field.”

“And outside of work?”

“I know I don’t look the part of the rugged mountain man, but when the snow is melted and the sun is out I’m usually hiking. Evergreen is home.”

Julia tapped her fingers on the counter as she waited for the water to boil. “Have you seen the insane gymnastics maneuvers people are attempting these days? I didn’t even know what parkour was until some kid came in with a broken arm after trying it.”

Ben laughed. “Those parkour people are a totally different breed. A little—” he whistled and circled his finger next to his head “—cray-cray to say the least.”

“Do you have children?”

His lips parted slightly as if to speak and then clamped down. A flash of unhappiness appeared in his eyes as quickly as it was replaced with a placid smile. “No children.”

“Sorry if that’s too personal, but that phrase you used is common with kids these days, and I noticed you watching the boys in the park.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m just keeping a close eye on the perimeter. The agents outside don’t have a view of this side of the property. I’m curious though. What’s it like? Working with kids all the time?”

“Challenging. You can have the best and worst moment in the same day.”

“How is that possible?”

Julia pulled two cups from the cupboard. “I’ve saved a child’s life and lost another in the same day.”

Ben placed his elbows on his knees. “What’s it like for you to lose a child? As a nurse?”

Julia’s pulled down one of the boxes of tea Eli had stocked. It touched her that he’d gathered these for her to try and make her feel more comfortable. There hadn’t been a man in her past who had even tried to be attuned to her needs. “I can’t speak as a mother about the loss of a child, because I’ve not been one, but I know as a nurse to lose a patient...particularly someone so young...” Julia pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. Her gut clenched. There had been too many lost little ones in her eight years of nursing. “It’s devastating.”

Contemplating her statement, Ben shifted back and looked out the window.

There was something there. Something hidden she couldn’t quite figure out. Years of nursing instilled in Julia a wealth of intuition. Every day, she had to interpret the things patients could not say.

A child claiming her black eyes and swelling lips were the result of running into a door. The teenager with small, deliberate razor cuts on her forearms as the only means to experience the pain she could not speak of. It was her expertise to read the smallest impressions of verbal tone, the slightest shift of body language that would disclose a truth a patient didn’t want to confess.

She placed a tea bag in the brown mug.

Ben settled his eyes back to her. “I’ve lost victims in the line of fire. You’re right...it’s tough. But it’s not like losing a family member.”

Julia’s parents came to mind and how she didn’t have them anymore.

Ben was right—it wasn’t the same.

* * *

Eli slowly walked up the steps of the one-story redbrick structure of the facility where Hank Galloway, Julia’s grandfather, was a resident. His thoughts often wandered back to Julia, how seeing her in the flesh, so strong and healthy, made it difficult to keep his emotions in check.

In law enforcement, it was rare to see a good outcome to someone who had suffered from such a violent crime. Knowing that Hank was a retired law enforcement officer, Eli figured it would be hard for him to keep his nose out of Julia’s business—particularly if he felt her life was in danger.

Eli’s goal was to make it clear to Hank that that was exactly what he needed to do to help ensure Julia’s safety.

As he entered the facility, he spied the U.S. Marshal who was working undercover dressed as a volunteer to help keep an eye on things. They acknowledged each other only with the briefest glance as Eli approached the receptionist’s desk and inquired about Hank’s room.

She pointed down the hall. “Third door on the left.”

Eli inhaled deeply. He undid the top button of his dress shirt, loosened his tie and tried to dismiss the vexing nature that the fading imprint of holding Julia in his arms had on him. He knocked softly, semihoping that Hank might be napping.

“Enter.” The voice was strong—anything but weakened with age.

He stepped inside. On the wall hung several commendations and awards from Hank’s law enforcement career. They locked eyes, Hank’s brown eyes, so similar to Julia’s, clearly sizing Eli up.

“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal son.”

Hank, a few inches shorter than Eli, struggled to plant his cane and push himself up from the rocking chair.

Eli crossed the room quickly and grabbed his forearm to steady his tremors. Parkinson’s disease had ravaged his body and laid waste to his muscles. He was a hunched-over remnant of the man in the photos.

“Sir, please, you don’t have to get up.”

“I always like to meet a man eye-to-eye. Particularly one who took such an interest in my granddaughter.”

Holding tightly on to Eli, Hank struggled to a standing position and clasped Eli’s hand in his strong, chafed, leathery one. Even though his other muscles were weak, the ones in his hand were seemingly spared from the ravages of the disease.

“I know you were the detective on Julia’s case. Recognize your face from the newspaper stories but you’re also the one who helped with her rehab. Or am I just being presumptuous?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Nice to officially meet you, son. I’m Hank Galloway.”

“Eli Cayne, sir.”

“Now sit down,” Hank ordered.

Eli assisted Hank back to a sitting position and grabbed a folding chair that sat against the wall.

“I take it your visit has to do with Julia’s strange call earlier today.”

“It does, sir.”

Hank muted the game show he’d been watching and began to rock in his chair. “I noticed a new volunteer working today. Does that have to do with you, too?”

“It does, sir.”

“But you’re not going to tell me what’s going on?”

Eli sighed and settled his back against the cool metal of the chair. He eyed the door. The less Hank knew about Julia’s situation, the better off he was, but Eli also knew Hank’s bloodhound genes wouldn’t let him sit idle—Parkinson’s or not.

Maybe just letting him in on the secret was the best way to keep him from trouble.

“The U.S. Marshals’ office is concerned that a hit has been placed on Julia’s life. I’ve placed her in protective custody.”

The chair creaked as Hank pushed it back and forth for a good minute, his eyes never leaving Eli’s, the squeaking like voltage up Eli’s spine.

“So you’re with the U.S. Marshals now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t have much in the way of financial reserves, but I’d like to give you some money to offset the costs from all the help you gave Julia.”

Eli lifted his hands up. “It’s not necessary, sir. I was honored to be able to help.”

“Seems unusual for a man to take such interest in a girl and not want anything in return.”

And there it hung in the air between them. It was time for Eli to verbalize to this patriarch that he never had any ill intentions as far as Julia was concerned.

Eli smoothed his palms over his legs. “At first, after rescuing Julia, I wanted to know if she was going to live. Being the one to find her that close to death—you can’t help wondering if you were there in enough time.”

“And then when that was clear?” Hank asked.

“Then Julia became the one person who could maybe tell us who this evil man was. When it was obvious that she was having difficulty remembering, I thought the stronger she physically became, the more likely she would remember. Helping with some of her rehab expenses, and spending time with her—encouraging her to get stronger—gave me the opportunity to continue to question her and test her memory.”

“All that time you spent with Julia, and yet we never met face-to-face...were you intentionally avoiding me?”

Eli smoothed his hands over his face. What answer would be the most reasonable? What answer wouldn’t make him seem like some creepy stalker? “I was worried about the case. I was worried that the defense could use my involvement in Julia’s rehab as a way to say the whole case against the Hangman was tainted. That I was wrongly influencing her. The more family members I interacted with then the more likely I could be accused of being improper so I did make myself scarce when you were around. What was most important was getting the Hangman off the streets. When Julia’s memory improved to the point that she was remembering things day to day but that the details of her attack were lost—I thought it was the best time to bow out.”

“And that was the only reason? To protect the case?”

“That was the only reason.”

Hank Galloway lifted an eyebrow—his built-in lie detector alarming.

Even to Eli, it didn’t feel as if he’d completely told the truth.

THREE

Eli parked his car behind the two agents who watched Julia overnight. His heartbeat picked up slightly. There was no denying he was anxious to see her again. He was excited to tell her the hit package had revealed a set of fingerprints they were hoping to get a match on. Thus far, the parolee remained elusive.

Exiting the car, Eli approached the other agents’ vehicle. A navy blue, older-model Ford Granada—in fact, the first type of car he drove as a teenager.

He used his knuckles to tap on the window. Will Sullivan and Jace Bastian looked his direction. Will sat in the passenger’s seat with the laptop of the security feed from Julia’s town house. Jace took the opportunity to exit the vehicle and stretch his legs. As he opened the door, two large McDonald’s coffee cups tumbled onto the broken pavement.

“How’d the night go?” Eli asked.

Jace pushed his hands toward the sky, a groan escaping his lip. “Nothing exciting to report. She read, she slept. Still sleeping.”

Eli glanced at his watch. It was almost nine. Julia said she was an early riser. Perhaps the stress of yesterday had taken its toll. It was a plausible explanation.

“Last contact?” Eli asked.

“By phone around nine o’clock last night. She was asleep an hour later,” Jace said.

“What about Ben?”

Will looked down at his laptop. “He’s not visible on any of the camera views.”

Intuition fired through Eli’s mind. “Call Julia,” he ordered.

“But she’s sleeping,” Will said from inside the car.

“I don’t care. Call her. Get her up.”

Eli rounded the car, opened the door and ripped the laptop from Will’s hands. Jace had the phone up to his ear. Eli could hear the phone ringing through the miniature speakers.

Julia didn’t move.

Will shrugged. “Maybe she’s a heavy sleeper. I’m telling you—Nothing. Happened.”

“That’s the problem.” Eli circled his finger in the air. “Call her again.”

Jace rolled his eyes and with dramatic flair dialed Julia again. Eli would address the tone of those movements when he wasn’t scared something had happened to Julia. This time, she did stir. Eli exhaled. On the feed, he could see her grope for the phone on the bedside table.

Her movements were stilted...clumsy.

Taking the laptop with him, Eli grabbed the phone from Jace in the moment Julia answered the phone. “Julia?”

Breathing. No words.

“Julia—are you okay?”

Was he overreacting? Perhaps she was a heavy sleeper and he’d hastened her from bed the one morning in a long time she was sleeping in. Stress. Being hunted by a killer could definitely sap a person’s strength.

“Hurts...”

He looked back at the laptop feed. She was sitting up rubbing her hand against her forehead. No, not the right words. She was barely able to hold herself upright. Her body would drift to the side and she would jolt herself back into a sitting position.

“Are you sick?” Eli asked.

She slumped backward on the pillows. “Bad headache.”

He pulled the phone from his ear and set it against his chest. “Will, was she drinking last night?”

“Tea—”

“I mean liquor.”

Will laughed out loud. “Julia doesn’t strike me as one who imbibes.”

On the screen, Julia’s arm dangled off the bed and she dropped the phone. Eli shoved the laptop and Jace’s phone at Will. “Call 911.”

“And tell them what?”

“Give them the address. Tell them it’s a medical emergency.”

Eli’s feet pounded the pavement with Jace’s footfalls close behind him. Trees rushed by as he pumped his hands faster to get his legs to pick up speed. Nothing looked disturbed from the distance as he rounded the corner and nearly pummeled the door as he dropped his speed. He jabbed the key code into the lock.

It didn’t release.

He tried again.

Nothing.

“It’s Monday. The lock’s code has changed,” Jace said with his hands on his knees as he huffed from the short sprint.

“Get it.” Eli seethed.

Jace patted his pockets and held his hands up empty. His phone was in Will’s possession. Eli reached for his and keyed in his code and handed it over to Jace and then began to pound on the door. “Julia!”

“I got it. I’m sure she’s fine.” Jace entered the code.

The door released, and Eli almost tripped over Ben’s body crumpled at the base of the staircase. He kneeled down and placed his hand in the middle of Ben’s back. “Ben! Can you hear me?” Ben groaned in response and tried to lift his hand up, but it immediately flopped back down. “Jace, carry him outside for the medics.”

Eli raced up the staircase and straight into Julia’s bedroom.

She remained in the same position he’d last seen her in on the computer screen. Eli sat next to her on the bed and grabbed her shoulder. “Julia. Julia!”

Julia shook like a rag doll under his touch. He licked his finger and placed it under her nose. A faint wisp of breath crossed his finger. He pinched the muscle between her neck and shoulder as hard as he could—a trick from his police days to see if an unconscious person could be roused.

Nothing.

Glancing around the room, nothing seemed out of place. A cup of clear liquid was the only other thing on the table next to her bed. He took a quick sip. Definitely water. No pill bottles.

Will came through the doorway. “What’s going on?”

“Did Jace get Ben outside?”

“Yes, but he’s not waking up. What’s wrong with them?”

“I don’t know.” Eli lifted Julia’s limp body. She was a deadweight in his arms. His throat tightened. Immediately, his mind raced back to the moment he’d cut the rope from around her neck, catching her lifeless body as she fell into his arms. Her skin...so cold and pale. How his breath seized in his chest that he’d been too late to save her.

Just as it did now.

Lord, you cannot do this to me again.

He carried her to the couch, where EMS would have more room to work.

Eli teased her eyelids open and examined her pupils. They seemed normal size—not the dark black holes of the dead or drugged. Julia still didn’t move. The subtle rise and fall of her chest the only evidence of life.

At least this time she was still breathing.

There was something off about her appearance. For bed, she’d dressed in light black cotton pants and a pink T-shirt. He traced his fingers over the scars on her neck and felt her pulse. Something in his mind begged him to remember. Her lips. It was the color. He brushed his thumb over them, spurring his memory into action.

His job was to observe. To catalog every detail to determine if something was amiss. After she’d packed and dressed yesterday, she wore little makeup. Her lips had not looked this red.

Unnaturally red. Cherry red.

He brushed his thumb against her lips again. Definitely not lipstick.

Voices called out as he heard heavy boots racing up the stairs. Two paramedics in their firehouse bunker pants and suspenders eased him back.

“What happened?” one asked. Eli took in the name on the badge. Russell.

“She complained of a severe headache, seemed unsteady and then passed out. I can’t get her to wake up.”

Another firefighter surveyed the living room.

“Is someone helping my partner, Ben? He’s unconscious outside.”

“Yes, another team is with him. What’s her name?” Russell asked.

“Julia Galloway.”

“Age?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“And you are?”

“Eli Cayne.”

“Relationship?”

What could he say? Protector?

Eli indicated himself and Will. “We’re U.S. Marshals.”

That raised Russell’s eyebrows. He turned away from Eli and focused on Julia. His partner snaked his hands under her T-shirt and attached heart monitoring leads to her chest, a blood pressure cuff to her arm and a lit probe on her finger. Next came some oxygen delivered through small tubes in her nose.

Russell placed a fisted hand in the center of her chest and rubbed it against her sternum. “Julia? Julia! Can you hear me?” He took a penlight from his pocket and shone it into her pupils. “Equal and reactive to light,” Russell noted. A firefighter helped the paramedics by documenting Russell’s findings.

Russell’s partner called out, “Vital signs are normal. I’m going to start an IV.”

Russell turned back to Eli. “Do you know anything about why she wouldn’t be responding to us? Did she fall and hit her head? Did she take any drugs or alcohol that you know of? Is she a diabetic?”

“No, no, and I don’t know.”

Russell turned to his partner. “Let’s get a blood sugar. After that, let’s try a dose of Narcan.”

“What is that?” Eli asked.

“Narcan is a medication that reverses narcotic drugs if people overdose on them. The blood sugar will tell us if she’s diabetic.”

At that moment, a piercing shriek filled the small townhome. Everyone startled and Eli reached for his weapon.

Julia didn’t flinch.

“What is that?” Eli yelled.

A firefighter bent over and pulled the contraption out of the plug. The alarm ceased. “Just as I thought. It’s the home’s carbon monoxide detector. Found it on the floor. There are toxic levels in this place.”

Russell snapped his fingers in the air. “Everyone...go, go, go! Let’s get her outside.”

Eli reached under and scooped his arms under Julia’s and lifted her up. Russell grabbed her legs. It surprised Eli how quickly Russell could go down the stairs backward with a body in tow, but he was likely used to doing it every day.

“Straight to the rig, guys,” Russell instructed, and they raced Julia to the back of the open ambulance door.

A second ambulance screeched to a halt in the street just behind the two fire trucks.

“Hey,” Russell yelled to his cohorts. “Get that guy loaded fast and on one hundred percent oxygen. There’s a carbon monoxide leak somewhere in that place.”

One of the firefighters held a thumbs-up sign and began to scoop up Ben’s lifeless body.

Eli and Russell clamored up the two steps at the back of the ambulance and plopped Julia down on the narrow gurney.

“Are you coming?” Russell asked Eli.

“Yes.” Eli saw Will and Jace hovering by the front door of the townhome. “Jace! Meet me at...”

“Sage Medical Center,” Russell said.

Jace nodded, and Russell yanked the doors closed and pounded on the roof. After that, he busied himself removing the oxygen prongs from Julia’s nose and placing her on an oxygen mask. Eli heard the rush of air as Russell cranked the oxygen to its maximum flow rate.

Eli sat on the bench opposite the gurney and grabbed Julia’s lifeless hand. “Is this all from the carbon monoxide?”

“Likely. It explains why both of them fell ill.”

Eli shook his head as scrambled thoughts scurried through his mind. “What does that do to a person?”

Russell placed a blue tourniquet around Julia’s forearm. “Carbon monoxide is a toxic, colorless, scentless gas. It replaces oxygen on your red blood cells and starves the body of oxygen. That’s why she complained of a headache. Your brain gets very cranky when it doesn’t have enough oxygen.”

“Why didn’t we get sick?” Eli motioned his hand between himself and Russell.

“It takes time for that process to happen—about fifteen minutes minimum if the levels are high. Once you open a door, the gas will start to vent out. We didn’t have enough of an exposure to be symptomatic.”

“Can you treat it?”

Russell withdrew the needle from its plastic sheath and then shoved it into the back of Julia’s hand. Drops of her blood hit the floor of the ambulance before Russell could connect the IV solution. Her life spilled out in front of Eli. Was he at fault? Could he have prevented this from happening?

Russell pointed to the mask. “The oxygen. If it’s really bad, the doctor may place her in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber.”

“Will she be all right?” Eli asked.

“If we got to her in time, she’ll be fine. I just don’t know if we’re in that window.”

For the first time in a long while, Eli bent his head and prayed to a God he’d distanced himself from.

Lord, keep Julia safe. Heal her body.

I need her in this life with me.

* * *

Under the muffled sound of sirens, Julia’s eyelids fluttered open. Her head...pounded, the surge of blood like freight trains rushing through a cross stop. She tried to pull her hand to her forehead to put counterpressure against the pain, but something snagged her hand.

Warm fingers swallowed her hand up. “Julia.”

Eli’s voice. Strong. Concerned. She inhaled a calming breath. Everything would be okay if he was with her. Why did she feel so terrible? Her body ached worse than when she contracted the flu. With her other hand, she groped her face and felt the mask covering her mouth and nose. The oxygen cooled her face. When she tried to pulled it off, another hand pushed it away.

“Leave it on, Julia.” Eli again. “You’re in the back of an ambulance.”

Blinking several times, she tried to clear her blurred vision. She tried to sit up, only to be stopped by the strap around her chest. She was covered by a rough, well-used cotton blanket.

Julia shook her head to try and clear her thoughts. “What happened?”

Eli gripped her hand tighter. “They think it was carbon monoxide poisoning.”

At first, it didn’t mean anything to her. Even her medical mind couldn’t process the information. Everything was so jumbled. Fuzzy.

Then a stranger’s voice. “My name’s Russell. I’m a paramedic. Glad to see that you’re waking up.”

Her eyes finally focused. Eli’s blue eyes softened. A faint smile came to his lips. Her heart ticked up a notch.

“How did it happen?” Julia asked.

“What?” Eli said.

“Julia, are you allergic to anything?” Russell asked.

She shook her head. “Accident or on purpose?”

Confusion clouded Eli’s face. How could she make him understand what she really wanted to know? Had this been an attempt on her life?

Russell interrupted before Eli could respond. “Do you have any chronic illnesses? Do you take any medications?”

Julia shook her head again. “Did they try to—”

Russell’s head loomed into her field of vision. “Julia, I think it’s best if you rest. Your confusion is normal. Once we get the poison out of your system, you’ll start to feel a lot better.” He patted her shoulder and sat back down.

“Kill me?”

Eli gripped her hand in both of his and bent his head, resting his forehead against her fingers. Her heart sank as tears fell down her face, collecting in her ear wells.

He didn’t know. He couldn’t answer her. But his posture spoke of defeat. Eli was strong. Smart. Maybe even the kind of man she dreamed might someday take an interest in her. He was trained to prevent crime—to pick up on circumstances that were suspicious. She could tell he felt responsible for what had happened.

When he looked up, his blue eyes held hers. Fierce. Determined. “I don’t know if this was deliberate yet, but I’m going to find out.”

If Eli Cayne couldn’t keep her safe...could anyone?

FOUR

Eli was relieved that after six hours of hyperbaric oxygen therapy, Ben and Julia were fully awake and seemed back to themselves, though bored at being cooped up. Ben was medically cleared and officially discharged from the emergency department. Eli ordered him to go home and rest for the remainder of the day. He found Julia in the next room flipping channels on the small screen mounted in the corner of her room. She had dodged a bullet again. At least figuratively this time. Eli had made a quick trip back to the town house to get her a change of clothes and her Bible. Anything he could do to provide her comfort he was willing to do. In the short twenty-four hours since they had been reconnected, there was one attempt on her life...now two?

He and Will stood in the hall outside Julia’s room. Will looked better than Eli felt after Eli insisted he head home and grab a few hours’ sleep. Since they were a man down on Julia’s detail, Eli needed him back sooner than later. Will sidled up next to him and looked in through the window. “She looks good. Are you going in or just hovering?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Will asked.

Eli adjusted the grocery sack in his hand that contained the items he’d collected for Julia. That was always a loaded question as far as Eli was concerned. “Good news first.”

“There was a crack in the furnace. That town house was built in the eighties. Who knows if the furnace was ever replaced? According to Quentin, that safe house hasn’t been used in years.”

“That’s the good news?” Eli adjusted the bag in his hands. “I can’t wait to hear the bad news.”

“FBI Forensics thinks it may have been tampered with. They’re not hanging their hats on it yet, but they are dusting for prints and having some other analysis done to see if they can prove it out.”

Eli turned to Will. “How are we supposed to get Julia to trust us? The first night she’s in our care she nearly dies.”

Will smirked. “Come on, Eli. That might be a little bit of an overstatement. Look at her now—she’s perfectly fine. I overhead one of the nurses say she could be discharged home today like Ben.”

Eli shook his head. “No, not today. I want her here until we can thoroughly check out the next safe house. Two agents—one inside her hospital room and one outside.”

“If you insist.”

“I do. I’ll be having a discussion with Quentin. It’s his responsibility to ensure that these locations are thoroughly vetted before the witness arrives. Having a witness die while under the protection of the U.S. Marshals would bring horrific embarrassment to the agency.”

Will held a hand up. “Eli, I get it. I know this is bad. But are you sure there’s nothing more? Even though it’s not the FBI’s main focus, witness protection is not a walk in the park. The very nature of protecting people is rife with problems.”

“Your point?” Eli asked.

Will stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You don’t seem to be handling this well. I’ll admit—it doesn’t help her trust us. It makes us look bad, but she’s okay and we’ll do better next time. In reality, I’m not sure how we could have prevented the furnace issue.” He paused and rocked back onto his heels.

Or how could we have kept someone from tampering with it? Isn’t that the more appropriate question?

Eli felt it in himself—the tight tension he didn’t know how to dispel without lashing out. What was really going on? On the surface, Will was partially right. Protecting a witness was a mine field and he should manage these issues with a calmer head, and he usually was very levelheaded. With Julia, his protective instincts were in overdrive. Was it more than preventing her death? Was it that he had this strong emotional attachment that tethered his mood to her level of safety? The more her life was at risk, the more unsettled and angry he became? That wasn’t the most rational response for someone just doing his job. If the FBI proved tampering, that would mean her killer had discovered the location of the safe house and accessed it before their arrival.

That changed everything.

It would indicate someone paid a lot of money to track Julia down even in protective custody. Or someone involved with inside knowledge leaked where she was going to be.

Simply pulling Julia from her normal routine might not be enough. A mole put her life significantly more at risk. Was it even possible?

The truth was, seeing Julia limp and lifeless this morning had been too close for him. Too close to the moment when he’d held her the last time and she barely clung to life. If he didn’t get these feelings that had simmered for over a year stuffed back into containment, he wouldn’t be able to do his job.

Eli shook his head to dispel these thoughts.

Eli—pull yourself together. Don’t let your feelings for her put her at risk.

He cleared his throat. “I owe you an apology.”

“It’s all right.”

Eli squared his body to face Will’s. “No, it’s not. You’re right. I haven’t acted in a professional manner.”

“I’ve talked to Quentin myself on this matter and he gave me the location of the next safe house. I agree with you she’s safer in the hospital overnight. They’re getting ready to release Ben as we speak. I’ll go to the next location with a maintenance man and make sure all utilities are working properly as well as the security systems. Furnace check. Fire alarms. Carbon monoxide detectors in place.”

“Thanks, Will. I appreciate your work on this. Let’s be thorough. There are worse things than keeping her tucked here for a few days.”

“Exactly. I’ll head out and work on those details. And you?”

Eli shrugged and held the grocery bag up. “I guess I need to work on building her trust in us again.”

* * *

Julia couldn’t find anything to watch on TV. The headache and chest pain were gone, and the latest blood result showed the carbon monoxide was cleared from her system. She was free from the confining hyperbaric oxygen chamber. Why hadn’t she been released as the doctor said she would be?

What disturbed her were the visions...or hallucinations...or could they be actual, real memories?

In some ways, her amnesia was a blessing. There wasn’t the terror of knowing exactly what happened to her on a daily basis. The subconscious remnants were what plagued her and likely were the cause of her anxiety. Would working to recapture those memories heal her from the anxiety? Was she brave enough to try and do it?

Today, she remembered more than she ever had before about the attack.

At least, she was fairly certain that what she remembered was true.

On that fateful day, Julia had just come downstairs after getting ready for work. She was about to put on her brightly colored paisley clogs that were tucked under the table in her foyer but decided it might be best to get her lunch ready instead. There had been the softest click and a cool breeze that swept through her kitchen. She’d crossed over to her sliding glass door to see if she’d left it cracked open from the previous evening. Peeling aside the curtain, she could see it was latched. Even the security bar was down.

When she turned around, a man stood just feet away from her. Even recalling this much caused her heart to fire indiscriminately, and she checked her pulse to see if the rhythm was regular. Resting her head against the pillow, she closed her eyes.

Why can’t I see you? Why are you just a fuzzed-out figure? I locked the front door. How did you get in? Has my mind made this whole thing up?

What was new was seeing a figure at all. Was it something to be celebrated? Julia wasn’t convinced. After all, if it really couldn’t offer any new information, what good did it do her except cause her more anxiety?

Then what replaced it was the sweet singsong of a male voice that whispered to her. Those are the brown eyes I’ve been waiting to see.

The faint knock at the door caused the memory to vanish. Eli poked his head into her room, and she motioned him forward.

The second thing that caused her anxiety? The gap in her memory claimed every moment she’d interacted with Eli. Considering the things he knew about her, it reasoned they’d spent a lot of time together.

“You look a lot better,” he offered, pulling a chair closer to the bed. He set a thin plastic grocery bag at her side. “I brought you these. A change of clothes and your Bible.”

She grasped the bag with the tip of her fingers and pulled it closer. “Thank you. I can’t wait to get out of here.”

His eyes darted to the side. “That’s what we need to talk about.”

“I don’t want to stay here.”

“You’re safe here. I think it’s—”

“No! Eli, please...” She pressed her thumb and forefinger at the corners of her eyes to stem the flow of threatening tears.

He rested his hand over hers. “Julia, it’s okay. You’re a nurse. You practically live in a hospital.”

How could she explain it to him? Was it the environment that was culling these memories? Was it being in the same position, forced to stay in a hospital bed that was connecting her brain cells again? Or was it Eli’s presence?

She fisted her hand and rested it at her side. The truth of the matter was her psyche was unprepared to remember the attack.

“Julia, I can only help if you tell me what’s going on. Like all men, I’m a really horrible mind reader.” He took her hand and gently uncurled her fingers, smoothing his palm against hers. “One night is all I’m asking. We want to be sure the next safe house doesn’t have any maintenance issues.” He gently squeezed her hand to add strength to his request.

“You don’t think the elevated carbon monoxide levels were an attempt on my life?” Julia asked.

A brisk knock at the door, and Dr. James Solan entered. His hazel eyes glimmered under the light nearly as much as his bald head. “I thought you said to me once you’d never step foot into an adult ER again.”

Eli stood from his chair. “You two know each other?”

“I worked here for about two years after I graduated from nursing school until I figured out adults were too crazy for me.”

Solan stroked his white beard. “It was obvious she didn’t like to care for anyone twenty-one and over. She’d bargain with the other nurses to take care of their pediatric patients.” Looking at Julia, he stated, “You don’t know how much they miss that.”

Julia laughed. “Sadly, it took me a couple of years to figure out there are hospitals that exist where adult patients aren’t allowed. Don’t know how smart that makes me in the long run.”

Dr. Solan turned to Eli. “Don’t let her fool you. She was one of the best nurses we ever had. As much as she’d hate to admit it, her adult nursing skills were above par.” He turned back to Julia. “As I’m sure they still are if you’d ever like to come back.”

“Not unless I can’t find any other job.”

“I’ll never give up trying to win you back. Julia, is it okay if I discuss your medical information in front of this young man?”

Eli held a hand up. “It’s okay, I’ll step—”

“It’s fine, Eli. Stay.”

“Very well, then. I know the nurse relayed to you that your last carbon monoxide level was negligible. The good news about CO poisoning is that if it’s caught early enough, patients turn around very quickly and don’t suffer any long-term effects.” He motioned to Eli. “I understand from the EMS team that this gentleman here found you. His quick action likely saved you from having a serious medical fiasco.”

Did she just see Eli blush?

“You’re medically clear to go home when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, James,” Julia said as he backed out of the room. “It was good seeing you again.”

Eli returned to the seat next to her and shook his head. Was it relief at the doctor’s words? The closer she examined Eli, the more she noticed his state of distress. His hair was disheveled. The blue irises tinged red. Had Eli not slept well? His face was one of worry.

“I want to go back to the question you were asking me before the doctor came in. They found a crack in the furnace at the safe house and the FBI is looking into the possibility that someone may have tampered with it.”

Blood roared in her ears. Could this assassin have found her that quickly?

“Julia...” His voice trailed, and he looked away. There was something he wanted to tell her but he seemed to question if whatever truth he held could be too much for her to take. Eli lifted his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Unexpectedly, his question felt like a punch in her gut. In every relationship, there was an inherent amount of trust. Just based on her position as a nurse, she expected her patients and their families to trust her on some level in order for her to do her job. If a family didn’t have that basis of understanding, it made her care more difficult because the doubt they possessed clouded every action she took at the bedside. Did that nurse clean my child’s skin enough before she put the IV in? Is that why my child now has a blood infection three days later?

Eli locked her eyes with his. “I can’t do my job unless you trust me on some level.”

“Why do you think that I don’t?”

“I’m just putting myself in your shoes. I uprooted you from your life, and the first thing that happens is you almost—”

“Eli, I don’t blame you for the furnace. How could I?”

His body relaxed. “I’m relieved, but I also would understand if you’d want another agent to take my place.”

Julia found herself shaking her head before her mind registered a thought. If she was truthful, she would have to confess that she wondered if Eli could keep her safe, but there was also a feeling that she didn’t want to be separated from him. “I don’t want that. I don’t want to have to get to know another team. I want to stick with you and Ben.”

For now.

FIVE

The next morning, Eli was hopeful for an uneventful day. Will and Jace reported there had been no overnight incidents at the hospital. Ben was well rested and relieved the two of them so they could sleep.

Eli was parking his car in the hospital lot when a call from Quentin redirected him to this location—the house of a murder victim. Quentin insisted Eli drive to the crime scene without seeing Julia first. Aurora police provided backup for Ben until Eli could get there.

No. This isn’t possible. This can’t be happening again.

The fact of the matter belied what Eli hoped. The woman was dressed in a sharp-looking turquoise and black pantsuit, her longer auburn hair covering the bulky rope around her neck that had claimed her life. Suicide? Homicide? One black, high-heeled shoe was on the floor below her. The other dangled from the tips of her toes.

Quentin Archer, Eli’s supervisor, waved him over. A tall black man, he stood nearly six foot five—a good three inches over Eli. His voice was James Earl Jones deep and he always presented a stabilizing force in any situation he was involved in—even when bullets were flying. Though he exuded polite calm and unflappability—the job had aged him beyond his fifty-four years. His hair was gray and the beard he wore fashionably clipped barely held the color of his youth.

Eli and Quentin stood off to the side as Aurora police detectives began to analyze the presumed crime scene. Eli waved to Nathan Long, a well-respected detective he’d had the honor of working with on occasion. Local law enforcement would handle the case, which added to Eli’s apprehension as to why Quentin called him to the scene.

“Quentin.”

“Eli, thanks for coming by.”

Eli motioned to the woman. “Not that you gave me a choice. What does this mean for Julia?”

“That’s what we’re here to discuss and why I wanted you to see the crime scene for yourself. You understand my concern?”

“I see a woman who may or may not have committed suicide.”

“Follow me.”

They rounded to the backside of the woman’s body. Quentin pointed to the noose. “What we know about the Hangman is he is very methodical in the way he dispatches his victims. Each noose had a device that was anchored into the ceiling. The rope—always yellow nylon. The noose was elaborate—far beyond what was needed to kill somebody. Decorative, you could say. The perpetrator would need to be skilled in tying knots.”

“Like the doctor currently on death row for the Hangman’s crimes. Have they found any blood?”

“The man who was convicted of being the Hangman, Dr. Heller, was a pediatric intensivist and doesn’t have the skill that, say, a surgeon would have with tying knots.” Quentin smoothed his hand over his mouth, his eyes narrow. “And no—so far they haven’t found any blood.”

Eli shrugged. “If it proves to be murder, perhaps we have a copycat at play. The Hangman’s trial was televised and heavily covered by the media. There was extensive forensic presentation of the materials he used to make the noose and how it was anchored.”

“Perhaps.” Though Quentin sounded far from convinced. “From looking at the scene right now, how could it possibly be suicide? There is nothing under her feet she could have stepped off of.”

That was problematic. Eli’s gut tightened. “Who is she?”

“Evelyn Roush was CEO of Medical Interventions International or MII. They’re a company based out of Colorado Springs.”

Eli fiddled with the coins in his pocket. That was concerning. All the Hangman’s victims had a connection to the health-care field. As of yet, they hadn’t determined if the medical angle was significant or just the killer’s preferred type.

“What does the company do?” Eli asked.

“From what I gather, they revolutionize life-support equipment. Recently, the company was in the news for getting FDA approval for a specialized type of ventilator. Evelyn just became infinitely richer than she was before—quadrupled her net worth.”

“I’m sure Aurora PD will look at all the usual suspects. Husband—”

“She wasn’t married. No kids. Early reports say she dedicated her life to her company and was also a big philanthropist.”

This woman’s death, on the surface, could be connected to Julia, but there wasn’t a logical straight line. If it was the hit man—why a hanging and not bullets? And if the real Hangman was free and not awaiting a state-sponsored injection to whatever was beyond this life—why didn’t he choose to kill Julia in the same manner as before?

Quentin sighed and nudged Eli from the room with his hand pressed against his back. He didn’t stop guiding Eli until they were in the front yard. Eli put his sunglasses on—in part to shield his eyes from the sun, but also to hide his feelings from his more experienced, astute supervisor.

“I know you were involved with the Hangman’s case. I know you were part of the responding team that found Julia barely alive. How did that come about?”

“What?”

“That you found Julia?”

“The hospital called and reported her missing after they tried to get a hold of her for two hours when she didn’t show up for work. I was in her neighborhood when Dispatch notified us of the need for the welfare check. It was the same day—”

“Of the high school shooting.”

“I wasn’t tasked on that case, and I knew it would be hours before a uniformed officer would be available, so I decided to stop by and help out. Get it off the call log.”

Eli turned away from Quentin. He could feel the emotion of that day building in his chest. What he thought was going to be a quick safety check had changed his life forever. When he’d gone up her steps, there was no answer at the door. When he peered through the side window—he saw her. Much in the same fashion he’d just seen Evelyn Roush.

“It’s good for Julia that you were so close.”

Eli squared his shoulders and turned back to Quentin. “Are you accusing me of something?”

“Should I?”

“Absolutely not.”

Quentin put a firm hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think you’re the Hangman. I am concerned you might be too emotionally connected to Julia—finding a victim that way, barely clinging to life, resuscitating her and perhaps developing feelings—”

“I don’t have feelings for Julia Galloway. I was just doing my job then. Am doing my job now.”

A knowing look crossed Quentin’s eyes.

Am I so easy to read?

“What I see is that, perhaps, your judgment is clouded. Even though there is a man in jail serving for the Hangman’s crimes, we should consider the possibility, in light of today’s event, and the hit on Julia’s life, that the Hangman was not working alone.”

Eli’s mouth dried. Was it possible? They had missed a partner all along? “If that’s true, then why is this person killing again? He could have walked away scot-free after Mark Heller’s conviction.”

“What it suggests to me is two possibilities—a seasoned serial killer who can’t help himself or someone with a personal vendetta against this group of people, and he’s not going to stop until his sense of justice is satisfied.”

Did either of those possibilities carry the same threat against Julia?

“Then why hire someone to kill Julia? Why not finish her off the same way he tried to before—especially considering this murder.”

“That, Agent Cayne, is what you’re going to have to figure out.”

“Get me access to Mark Heller,” Eli said.

“You want to interview the Hangman?”

“You’re implying he didn’t act alone. I think an interview is warranted.”

“What’s his incentive to open up to you?” Quentin asked.

“Heller has always claimed his innocence.”

“As they all do.” Quentin smirked.

“True—but if he offers new information and this crime ends up being linked to the Hangman, he’d be in a good position for appeal and ultimately getting his freedom back.”

“You’re prepared for what that means for you—personally and professionally?”

Eli’s stomach clenched. Could he have put an innocent man in jail? Or had he just let a partner go free?

Either possibility wasn’t acceptable.

* * *

Julia relished her friend Crystal’s smile. It had been too long, since before her attack, since they’d had a chance to catch up.

“I got a heads-up through the hospital rumor mill that you were down here in the ER, so I snuck in under the guise I was your nurse. I’m glad I wasn’t shot on sight for doing so.”

Ben lifted his eyes briefly from his laptop. “I might reconsider next time.”

Crystal winked at him and turned her attention back to Julia. “I’m so glad you’re not mad at me for not being there for you when you were so sick.”

“How could I be now that I know your mother was going through cancer treatment. I’m so glad she’s okay.”

Glancing around the room, Julia was unnerved to have Ben sitting in the corner listening to their private conversation. He tried his best to be nonobtrusive, but the more Julia watched Ben’s face, the more she felt he was hiding something from her. Frequently, he placed his finger against his earpiece listening to communications, which often was followed by a slight frown. A few times he’d stepped out of the room to talk with the agent outside her door. And where was Eli? He’d told her he’d be back at the hospital this morning. So far he hadn’t shown up and it was nearly ten o’clock.

Ben didn’t present the same type of peaceful calm that Eli did. There was an undercurrent of something smoldering that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Home problems? Ben said he didn’t have children. Perhaps he couldn’t have any. Julia eyed his hand. There was a simple gold band on his left fourth finger. Today, he had a nervous energy about him—like a kangaroo hyped up on caffeine. But then, he’d had the same brush with death that Julia had. Perhaps that was enough to explain his behavior.

The curse of nursing enveloped her. Why couldn’t she just enjoy people for who they were? When did the analysis of people stop? The issue with emergency room patients, at times even their parents, was that they didn’t always tell the truth.

What she needed to learn was that not everyone was hiding a lie, either.

“Julia...” Crystal’s voice trailed as her face tilted toward the ground. Her long, wavy brown hair dropped over her face.

Julia reached for her friend’s hand. “What is it? I want this to be a happy time together. Anything to keep my mind off what’s going on.”

“I feel so bad talking about my mother when your parents...”

Both died. That was the line her friend couldn’t finish. Was that really why she hadn’t heard from Crystal since her attack?

“It’s okay,” Julia offered.

“On their way to the hospital to see you.” Crystal broke down. All Julia could think to do was place a comforting hand on her shoulder until the sobbing subsided.

The truth was Julia had suffered more loss than she thought humanly possible. Each day was a step into unknown territory. Before her attack, she’d parroted the same response to friends that everyone said to her.

Don’t worry. God won’t give you more than you can handle.

That was a myth perpetuated by people in good faith but poor understanding. The Bible was rife with people getting hefty doses of more than they could handle. What was the purpose of suffering? What Julia learned was that at the point where life became overbearing—that was when the only option left was to throw your hands up to God and let Him take over. It was in a human’s ultimate weakness that God’s strength poured through.

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