THE SECRETS OF HER PAST COULD IMPERIL HER FUTURE

Lindsey Presley certainly can’t imagine why anyone would want her dead—though she knows she wouldn’t be alive today if not for the local cop who saved her from two murder attempts. Deputy Jeff Gage has worked difficult cases, but with only Lindsey’s fractured memories of a broken past to guide him, this is by far his most challenging. For Lindsey, fleeing the town she has come to call home is unthinkable. Separately, they are vulnerable, but together, Jeff and Lindsey just may stand a chance of catching a ruthless killer.

“Why is this happening?”

Jeff touched Lindsey’s shoulder. “Get some rest. Ray will run me home, then he’ll be out here till you’re ready to go. I’ll relieve him and take you to the restaurant. You shouldn’t walk—”

“You really don’t have to—”

“Lindsey.” He interrupted her, then paused and let out a slow breath. “I know I didn’t take care of you tonight—”

Without thinking, she cupped his cheek with her free hand, stopping his words. “You did all anyone could do.” The doubt in his eyes made Lindsey ache in a way she didn’t quite understand, but she knew neither of them could deal with it tonight. Slowly she eased her hand away. “I’ll see you at four.” Straightening and pulling open the screen door, Lindsey unlocked her home and reached in to turn on the light.

Then she screamed.

RAMONA RICHARDS

A writer and editor since 1975, Ramona Richards has worked on staff with a number of publishers. Ramona has also freelanced with more than twenty magazine and book publishers and has won awards for both her fiction and nonfiction. She’s written everything from sales-training video scripts to book reviews, and her latest articles have appeared in Today’s Christian Woman, College Bound and Special Ed Today. She sold a story about her daughter to Chicken Soup for the Caregiver’s Soul, and Secrets of Confidence, a book of devotionals, is available from Barbour Publishing.

In 2004 the God Allows U-Turns Foundation, in conjunction with the Advanced Writers and Speakers Association (AWSA), chose Ramona for their “Strength of Choice” award, and in 2003 AWSA nominated Ramona for Best Fiction Editor of the Year. The Evangelical Press Association presented her with an award for reporting in 2003, and in 1989 she won the Bronze Award for Best Original Dramatic Screenplay at the Houston International Film Festival. A member of the American Christian Fiction Writers and the Romance Writers of America, she has five other novels complete or in development.

Memory of Murder

Ramona Richards

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say of the Lord, he is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust. Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with

his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust:

his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.

Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night;

nor for the arrow that flieth by day.

—Psalms 91:1–5

To Sharon, who has learned to live Psalm 91:5, growing stronger every day.

Contents

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

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

ONE

Her every nerve suddenly on edge, Lindsey Presley stared at the blond man confronting Deputy Jeff Gage.

Reaching behind her, Lindsey double-checked the lock on the front door of her restaurant, then hugged the night-deposit bag more tightly. She prayed she was wrong about the stranger. After all, he didn’t look all that different from other young people in the area. Clean-shaven, short hair, T-shirt, jeans. Barely more than a kid. Average.

Except for that vintage orange 1968 Pontiac GTO that waited behind him, blocking Jeff’s patrol cruiser. The GTO’s front door stood open, waiting. Its motor idled with the distinctive rumble of a pampered muscle car.

The top step of the Cape Cod–style building gave Lindsey a view of the entire parking lot. Empty, except for the three of them and the two cars. She blinked hard, distracted as the kid shook his left hand out to one side, as if trying to fling a bug from it. His right hand remained hidden behind his hip.

Go back inside. This isn’t right. A streetwise instinct honed in her childhood urged Lindsey to flee behind closed doors. There a kitchen bristled with knives she could use for defense. But that instinct fought with her reluctance to leave the sheriff’s deputy who stood between her and the young man. Jeff had promised to protect her on the nightly deposit runs to the bank and had done just that since she’d opened the diner six months ago. During those short rides to the bank, they’d become close friends. She didn’t want to abandon him. She wouldn’t.

Friends don’t do that. And the guy still hasn’t done anything wrong. Logic told her to wait. Friendship begged her to stay. Her gut told her to run.

Jeff, who had been waiting for her at the foot of the front steps at eight o’clock, also seemed to sense something odd about the way the young man had slid the GTO into the parking lot after closing time. He stood with his back stiff, feet apart and firmly planted, his hand on his gun. On guard and wary.

The man’s left hand shook harder, and Lindsey’s muscles tensed. Now, she thought. It’s going to happen now. What do I do?

Trip the alarm. The thought startled her, but she immediately knew it was a good idea. Turning, she thrust her key in the lock, twisted it and cracked open the door. If she didn’t close it or enter the code inside within thirty seconds, the alarm would sound.

“Sir, you need to leave.” Jeff’s firm command echoed over the empty parking lot. “The restaurant is closed.”

Lindsey pivoted back toward the parking lot, eyes fixed on the two men. The younger man shook his head, now holding his left hand high and smiling broadly. “I understand. I understand. I just need directions. I drove all the way from...from Chicago. Trying to find a girl I met online. Just a girl.” He stepped forward, as if to go around Jeff.

Jeff blocked his path. He glanced warily up at the kid’s left hand. “Where are you going?”

The blond never responded. Instead, he swung his right arm around from behind his back. He ground a stun gun into Jeff’s chest. With a stark cry of pain, Jeff dropped to the asphalt, his body twisting in spastic seizures.

“No!” Lindsey screamed. She dashed down the steps toward them, throwing the money bag at the man. “Take it!” She lunged toward Jeff.

She never reached him. Fire shot through her skull as the man grabbed her by the hair, yanking her backward. He punched her in the solar plexus. Lindsey’s breath stopped and spots danced in front of her eyes as she collapsed. Her assailant grabbed her arm and slung her over the hood of the GTO.

The restaurant alarm blared through the night, the sirens radiating off every wall in the neighborhood. The man cursed and pressed his arm on the back of her neck. “Stupid woman!”

Lindsey fought for air as he yanked her arms behind her. Plastic ties cut deep into her skin as he secured her wrists. Finally drawing a raspy gasp, Lindsey tried to scream again, but a sharp blow to her ribs cut it off as she curled up in agony. He snapped her ankles together, wrapping the ties around them. He tossed her over one shoulder, her small frame no burden at all to him.

He bent to scoop up the money, then kicked Jeff twice as he passed the struggling deputy—once in the side, once on the back of Jeff’s skull. Jeff went limp.

Lindsey found more breath. “No!” She bucked against the man, but he ignored her, shoving her unceremoniously into the backseat of the GTO. “Scream away, darlin’. No one will hear you over this baby.”

The guy got in and gunned the engine. The fine-tuned rumble exploded into a roar that split the night air. The orange car spit loose gravel, and smoke bellowed from beneath its tires as it spun out of the parking lot less than five minutes after it had pulled in.

Lindsey pushed herself around, still fighting to breathe normally, regularly. Not an easy task with the pain throbbing through her ribs and head. She struggled against her bonds without success. Sweat coated her back and legs where they pressed against the vinyl backseat of the car. The fury and adrenaline that seared through her made Lindsey’s mind spin. Her muscles trembled, but terror and pain kept her sane and focused as the past few minutes played over and over in her head.

God, how do I get out of this? Help me.

Lindsey twisted until she could see her attacker over the low, split front seat of the GTO. His pasty face glowed in the glare of oncoming headlights, and rivulets of water dripped out of the man’s hair and trailed down his cheeks and neck.

He’s sweating! Despite the open front windows and light chill of the early fall night, the man’s hair remained plastered to his scalp. He fidgeted, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and squirming in his seat. He pulled a slip of paper from his shirt pocket to check it, mumbling directions to himself. Over the roar of the engine, Lindsey barely caught the words, “Go slow. Careful. Left after three miles.” He shoved the paper back in his pocket. He let up on the gas, and the car slowed.

He’s going to turn. Leave the main road. Lindsey knew the road he planned to take. It ran deep into an almost impenetrable Tennessee woodland. In that second’s realization, Lindsey knew she was about to die. No! Her mind screamed the word, and in pure desperation, a rough idea formed in her mind. An insane idea. He’ll be focused on the turn, the other cars...

As Lindsey slowly shifted her body into position, her assailant’s words repeated over and over.

Turn, three miles. Turn, three miles.

Lindsey frowned, then blinked the words away. She must get ready, no matter how crazy her plan seemed. You can do this. You can do this! Pushing over on her back, she ignored the agony in her hands as she braced her shoulders against the middle of the seat and cautiously drew her knees up to her chest. Her short, petite frame let her curl into a tight ball, and Lindsey had never felt so grateful for being so short—or for taking that Pilates class her sisters had insisted on.

Still mumbling, the man braked the car suddenly, shouting at an oncoming vehicle to get out of the way. As he stomped on the accelerator again, heading the car into the left turn, Lindsey shrieked with all her might. Startled, the man’s head snapped around to glare at her, just as she kicked both legs with as much strength as she had, thrusting her thick-soled, restaurant-durable shoes directly at his face.

His scream matched hers as blood shot from his crushed nose. He jerked, twisting the wheel to the right, veering the car out of the turn and straight toward the corner where the two roads met. He never had a chance to touch the brakes as the orange GTO crashed through the guardrail and soared into the air. The engine howled as the tires left the road. Lindsey felt weightless, her body floating above the seat as the car arced into the ravine. Then the car plowed into the rock and dirt, landing grill down with a deafening sound of sheared metal and shattering glass.

Lindsey plunged forward over the seat. Searing pain sliced through her as her shins hit the man’s head, which slammed forward into the steering wheel with a sickening crack. She crashed into the windshield, then down on the dash as the car rolled over on its right side. It slid another few yards before the weight of the engine pulled it upright again.

Lindsey’s head thudded into the dash a second time, and the darkness of unconsciousness consumed her.

* * *

Jeff groaned as consciousness returned. Rocks and dirt bit into his cheek, and he tried to raise his head, which throbbed with a deep, unrelenting pain. Lindsey! Oh, dear God, what did he do to Lindsey? The silent air around him deepened his sense of panic. What happened to the alarm?

He heard the crunch of hard soles on gravel and tried to push up, only to have a foot land in the middle of his back, shoving him back to the ground. With quick, efficient moves, the man plucked Jeff’s handcuffs off his belt and secured the deputy’s hands behind him.

“Relax, boy. She’ll be dead before you can get to your feet.”

Jeff clawed through his memory, trying to recognize the rough voice, but nothing registered. His brain felt as fried as his muscles.

But Lindsey couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t. An agony laced through Jeff’s chest that had nothing to do with his physical injuries. “No.” His voice croaked.

The man bent closer but deftly stayed out of Jeff’s line of sight. “Oh, yes. You’re worthless, boy. If that woman were still alive, she’d hate you for abandoning her. Sheriff Taylor should fire you. And he will by the time we get through with you. We’ll be watching and waiting for the next chance to make you fail.”

Jeff spit gravel out of his mouth and tried to speak. Then he heard the ominous buzz just before the spears of pain hit his shoulder. Lightning shots of current sheared through him again, and Jeff screamed in rage and despair.

* * *

Nothing smells like a wrecked car. Lindsey had been in more than one accident, and the smells always lingered in her memory. Hot oil, burnt rubber, gasoline and stressed metal. Acrid smoke burned her nose. It had startled Lindsey to consciousness, but now she just wanted to get away from it. She tried to move, but her shoulders felt wedged beneath the dash. A low moan escaped her as each and every inch of her body felt battered and bruised.

It was an old feeling, deep from within her childhood, and she pushed it away, mentally going over her body to survey her injuries. The coppery taste in her mouth and swollen cheek and lips meant a blow to the face, and the slick and sticky liquid coating her hands told her that the plastic ties had cut deep into her skin. Her right shoulder felt twisted. One ankle throbbed with a terrible ache, but nothing felt broken. Her father had dealt her far worse.

While her injuries were excruciating, Lindsey was even more terrified that she stared, face-to-face, at her attacker. Her small, limp frame had crumpled and wedged itself in the passenger floorboard. Unbelted, the man had toppled from behind the wheel when the car went up on its right side. He’d smashed headfirst into the passenger-side window, then slid down in the seat as the car settled back on four wheels. Even unconscious and bleeding from two major head wounds, he felt menacing. Though frightened, Lindsey forced herself to remain still.

Who are you? Ghostly pale, his round face still had a babyish quality to it, like that of a teenager. She’d never seen him before, and from Jeff’s reaction back at the restaurant, he hadn’t recognized the attacker, either. And Lindsey felt pretty certain that Deputy Jeff Gage knew just about everyone in Bell County.

Jeff. Her thoughts flashed back to the restaurant, to the sight of Jeff lying motionless on the ground. “Please, Lord,” she whispered. “Let him be okay.” In that moment, Lindsey realized she really wanted Jeff here, to see him, to know he was all right. For him to tell her everything would be all right.

“Please. Get us out of this.”

Out. I have to get out. Lindsey tried to move, to straighten her legs, but she almost screamed from the pain that shot through her muscles and joints. She gave up, taking comfort in the sound of someone scrambling around in the brush outside the car.

“We’re here!” she called out. “Please help us!”

A blinding light hit her face, and Lindsey grimaced, trying to turn away. “Hey!”

“You’re supposed to be dead. Again.”

Lindsey stilled. “Who are you?”

A gloved hand reached in through the passenger window and fumbled around the body of her unconscious assailant. “Is he dead?”

Fear seized Lindsey now, freezing her tongue. An old memory shot through her, one from her childhood. A voice that had made her stop in her tracks, unable to speak. Words so similar, Lindsey wondered if she were hallucinating. You’re supposed to be dead. Is she dead?

She. Not he. Lindsey blinked hard, trying to clear the fog in her mind. Everything felt mixed up, the past and present running together like paint colors. Why can’t I remember!

“No matter.” The hand kept pulling at the man’s clothes until it found the shirt pocket. “If he’s not, he will be soon. Stupid...deserves to die for wrecking this car. What a waste. Beautiful machine.” Fingers clawed into the pocket, plucking the piece of paper from it. “And for not completing his job with you.”

The street-savvy kid who still lived deep inside Lindsey reacted instinctively, and she twisted hard, shoving herself deeper beneath the dash. She screamed just as the light swung in her direction, smashing into the spot where her head had been. The light shattered and went out. The man cursed, condemning her and everything on the planet. He reached through the window and clawed desperately at the glove compartment, but wasn’t able to get it open.

Sirens split the night air, and the sound of urgent voices echoed into the ravine. The man cursed again, backing away from the car. “We’re not done with you. We’re around every corner.”

As he crashed away through the brush, Lindsey sobbed.

Another light pierced the car, and Lindsey screamed, terror shooting through her.

“Lindsey! It’s okay. We’re here to help.” This time the warm, soothing tones belonged to Sheriff Ray Taylor, and relief flooded through her as she recognized the baritone voice of her brother-in-law.

“Ray! Please get me out of here.”

“As soon as we can, hon. Hang in there with me.”

Lindsey closed her eyes, let out a slow, ragged breath and nodded.

* * *

“Jeff. Talk to me, son.”

Jeff heard the voice, but consciousness did not return easily, no matter how hard he tried. Light hurt. Sound hurt.

Everything hurt.

“Jeff, can you hear me?”

Jeff Gage recognized the gentle but gravelly voice of the EMT. Alan Gage. His stepfather. Other voices hovered over him. Alan’s fellow EMTs and other deputies. Firm hands helped ease him onto a backboard, and a cervical collar stabilized his head.

“Lindsey.” Jeff’s voice still sounded as if he’d swallowed a load of mulch. He tried to open his eyes, but the light burned them, making more pain spear into his skull. The odor of a strong antiseptic blended with the smell of gravel dust. Jeff fought the urge to sneeze.

Alan squeezed his arm. “I know. They found her. Ray’s with her now.”

“She all right?”

Alan hesitated, and Jeff’s gut knotted. He twisted, testing his muscles against the belts of the gurney as it rolled toward the ambulance. “Alan, I don’t need this. Let me up.”

The grizzled EMT made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a growl. He placed an arm over Jeff’s chest. “Boy, you ain’t goin’ nowhere. That car Lindsey was in crashed. She’s awake and headed for the hospital. So are you. You have a knot on the back of your head the size of a grapefruit. You’ve been hit with two full doses of a stun gun, so you got a nice burn on your chest and one on your shoulder. Thrashing around on the ground scraped you up pretty good, and it looks like you took a shot to the ribs as well as to your skull. Maybe a couple of breaks. Maybe a concussion. We’ll let the docs sort it out. You ain’t going nowhere but the hospital, and your mother would kill me if I even let you try.”

Jeff stared up at Alan, his words like acid in his throat. “I should have protected her. I failed her.” He grimaced. “They’re coming after us again.”

* * *

“Hold still, Lindsey. I’m going to cut the ties.”

Behind her back, there was a soft snip, and her hands fell free, releasing her shoulders and arms from their painful and stretched position. They couldn’t get her out of the mangled car, but she’d managed to twist so that Ray could cut the plastic ties. She sighed with relief. “How’s Jeff?”

Sheriff Ray Taylor’s mouth twitched, as if he were fighting his true thoughts. Instead, he cleared his throat, his baritone voice as gruff as his words. “He’s at the hospital. Which is where you’re going.” He snapped his pocketknife closed, then draped a heavy, protective blanket over Lindsey as, behind him, two rescue workers pushed their way through the brush and debris with the Jaws of Life.

Ray had not left her since he’d scrambled down to the car, shoving aside anything in his way. Still hyped on adrenaline and fear, she’d babbled out everything that had happened. He took in every word calmly. When she got to the part about the man with the flashlight, he’d turned and said something to an officer behind him, then faced her again.

For the first time, Lindsey saw Ray in action as a sheriff, not just as her brother-in-law. He insisted that she focus on him instead of the unconscious assailant still trapped in the car with her—to keep her awake and alert. Although Lindsey knew all the reasons her sister June had fallen for the easygoing sheriff, she now saw why Jeff admired his mentor and boss. She saw in Ray the same mannerisms that she’d noticed so often in Jeff.

Ray moved aside to allow the EMTs to reach her. One of the rescue workers peered in, evaluating the situation. “I’m going to cover you both. Then we’re going to cut into the roof as well as get this door open. It’s going to be really loud, and the whole car will vibrate. When we get access, everything will happen fast. We’ll grab him first, then you. You holler if any shifts cause your pain to get worse.”

Lindsey nodded, and he pulled the blanket over both of them, tucking it in tight. In the abrupt darkness, Lindsey let out another ragged sigh and closed her eyes. Tears ran down her cheeks again, and she pushed away thoughts of how close the man who had tried to kidnap her was to her face, that he could wake up at any moment. Even with the workers outside and the sheriff close, Lindsey’s fear of the man hovered near. He’d acted and sounded so crazy!

Outside the car, a sputtering engine roared to full power, like a chain saw on steroids. The car rocked with the first effort, and Lindsey squeezed her eyes tighter as pain shot through her hips and back. Nothing she couldn’t handle. Again her mind snapped to her childhood and the abuse her father had inflicted.

The shriek of ripping metal helped Lindsey push the memory away, and she gritted her teeth against the sound. Then voices called, echoing around the ravine with a new fervor. Someone peeled the blanket away, and Lindsey blinked as light and cooler air flooded in. Two men reached in, gently easing her attacker onto a backboard. Over the cacophony of the rescue efforts, she heard the steady whup-whup of a helicopter.

“Lifeflight?” she asked one of the EMTs.

He nodded. “They’re taking him to Vanderbilt. You’ll probably go to NorthCrest, unless you’re hurt worse than we think.”

“Bruises, cuts, some pulled muscles. And I think I twisted my ankle when it hit the dash. Nothing major.”

Finalizing his work on the attacker, the EMT nodded at his coworkers and the backboard disappeared as it moved up the side of the ravine. He turned his attention to Lindsey. “You a nurse?”

“No. But I’ve been hurt bad before. I know how it feels.”

He reached in and slid a foam cervical collar around her neck. “How ’bout we let the docs decide?”

Lindsey took a deep breath. “Just didn’t want you fussing over me without reason.”

The EMT grinned at her. “My job. Now I’m going to see if I can slide this board between you and the seat. You ready?”

“My sisters will tell you I’m always ready for the next step.”

“I can believe that. Now, don’t move. Don’t try to help me. Let me do the work.”

Lindsey closed her eyes again, fighting the urge to claw her own way out of this stupid car.

No. Not just a car. A 1968 GTO. A bright orange 1968 GTO. The image of her father, his face battered and blotted, shot through her mind again, along with another shadowy figure. Entwined with them was the image of the orange GTO. Lindsey gasped. Why did that happen? What could her father have to do with the car? More importantly...

“Is she dead?”

What am I remembering? And why?

TWO

“Mild concussion. Ribs bruised but fortunately not broken. Cuts and abrasions, along with the burn, which—”

“In other words, I can get back to work. Now.” Jeff tugged his uniform shirt closed and buttoned it, trying to ignore the dirt smears and tiny tears from the gravel. He tucked it into his waistband, wincing at the soreness in his chest and muscles. The bandages they’d taped over his few injuries pulled against his skin as he tightened his belt.

Nick Collins, the emergency-room doctor who had treated more than his fair share of the sheriff’s officers, stopped typing on a mini-laptop and looked up at Jeff over the top of his reading glasses. “What’s got you in such a snit? You’re usually the calm one on Ray’s team.”

Standing behind Nick, Sheriff Ray Taylor spoke grimly. “He failed in his duty.”

Jeff scowled, feeling his face heat up, as Nick took off the black-framed glasses and tucked them into the pocket of his white coat. “Well, you also got kicked in the head. That sounds more amusing than it is. I don’t want you taking chances with that. Besides, the guy who did it is in a coma at Vanderbilt and Lindsey is a few rooms over, giving our nurses a run for their money. She’ll be all right. What’s left to do tonight?”

Ray shifted his weight but before he could reply, Jeff snapped, “Forensics. I want to look in the car. And review the reports, and talk to Lindsey about—”

Nick closed the mini-laptop and moved toward Jeff. “Now slow down. I get the picture. I don’t want to take any chances on the concussion. I’ve said you can leave, but only if there’s someone who can check on you tonight and in the morning.”

Jeff grabbed the opening. “I live over my parents’ garage.”

“Your dad is Alan Gage, right?”

Jeff nodded. “Stepdad.”

“Whatever. If Alan will agree to check in on you, I’ll have you out of here in an hour.” Nick nodded once, then turned and pushed through the door of Jeff’s E.R. room.

Ray stepped up in his place, speaking before Jeff could get a word out. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Ray—”

“No.” The sheriff crossed his arms over his chest. “First, you were on duty, but you were also a victim. I’ll have to think twice about your level of involvement. Second, Troy and his tow truck are at the scene. He’s going to haul the GTO to the garage, and we’ll go over it tomorrow. No one’s going to touch it.”

“His garage isn’t secure enough for a kidnap—”

“It’ll be fine. Troy’s Rottweilers won’t let anyone touch it.”

“But—”

Ray put up a palm. “Jeff, quit pushing. You keep this up, and I’ll ask Nick to keep you overnight. Be satisfied that they’re dismissing you and that Lindsey’s not hurt any worse than she is.”

Jeff let out a long breath as the door opened behind Ray. “No thanks to me.”

Ray stepped closer. “You did nothing wrong. No one could have thrown off two attacks like that.”

“That boy raised a lot of red flags. I should have paid attention.”

“Stop that!” A small hand waved at him, and Lindsey limped into the room, a crutch under one arm. “You did everything you could.”

Jeff’s eyes widened at the sight of her. “Everything but stop him.”

Ray scowled. “Both of you hush. Lindsey, what are you doing out of bed?”

Lindsey forced a small smile made crooked by her swollen jaw. A sharp feeling spiked right into Jeff’s chest. “I refuse.”

Both men stared at her. “What?” Jeff asked.

Lindsey looked at him. “It’s our rallying cry. The Presley sisters.” She glanced at Ray. “You can ask June about it. She wrote it. Made us memorize it. We’d say it to each other when things with our dad turned horrible. ‘I refuse to give up, give in, give over. I refuse to be defeated. He won’t win.’ After a while, we’d just look at each other and say ‘I refuse.’”

She turned back to Jeff. “I know what the second guy did, what he threatened. To both of us. Yeah, he nearly scared me to death. But I refuse. And Ray’s right. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

Ray muttered, “Oh, boy,” as Lindsey’s blue eyes widened.

She pushed a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear and stood a little taller. “I beg your pardon.”

Jeff felt the heat rising in his cheeks again. “That’s not what I meant! You look great. Always. But you’re hurt. I mean—the bandages—”

Lindsey nodded. “And the cuts and bruises.”

“Yeah...”

“And the limp. I twisted my ankle. Not bad. Just a mild sprain.”

“Yes...”

“They’ll heal. I really will be all right.”

Jeff shook his head. “Lindsey, that’s not all—”

“And the guy who did it is in a coma.”

“But he didn’t do it alone.”

A rigid silence hung in the air a few moments, then Ray spoke quietly. “So let’s go over it again.”

Jeff sat up straighter, wincing a bit from the pain of his bruised ribs. Ray took more notes as Jeff repeated his version of the night’s events. “I can’t get this out of my mind. The first guy was a kid. Not more than twenty, if that. And really strung out on something. Meth. Coke. Something.”

Lindsey nodded again, watching Jeff closely. “He was sweating like a pig. Muttering. Totally stressed out.”

“And that car.” He looked at Ray. “You know what a classic GTO in prime condition is worth?

“About fifty grand, last time I checked.”

“So would it be your first choice for a kidnapping? Why not a van or an SUV? Something more practical. Nondescript. Cheap.”

“You think it was stolen or that it belonged to the second guy?”

Jeff shrugged. “I don’t know. But I do think the second guy was in charge. The kid was a mess, but the second guy...he was cold, unfeeling. The kid used the stun gun on me because he had to. The older guy did it because he wanted to.”

“Turn, three miles.”

Both men looked at Lindsey. “What?” asked Jeff.

She watched him closely, curiosity lighting her eyes. “That’s what the kid kept repeating. ‘Turn, three miles.’ And...” She took a deep breath. “He didn’t know where he was going.”

Ray and Jeff exchanged looks. “How do you know?” asked Ray.

“He had directions written down on paper. Kept checking them, talking to himself. That’s how I knew he was about to turn left. How I knew when to try something. And that paper is what the other guy stole out of the car.”

Ray focused on Jeff again. “Well, Deputy Gage, looks like you have a lot of work to do on this one.”

Jeff stared at his boss. “You’re letting me take the lead on this?”

“Watching you two, I’m not sure I could stop you. Both of your minds are already clicking through the steps. But you do everything by the book. Document everything. No shortcuts that could undermine our case in court. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, I’ll get you and Lindsey home, and keep the guard on her tonight. I’ll bring her back to the station in the morning. Meet us there first thing, and we’ll get her statement and get the investigation up and running.”

“I have to open for breakfast at five-thirty.”

Jeff stared at Lindsey, her words sinking in. “You’re opening the restaurant tomorrow?”

Lindsey nodded, her eyes wide. “Of course, I am. The restaurant has only been open six months. The commuters have gotten into the routine of stopping for my coffee before work, and I’m getting a crew of regulars who come in for breakfast. People are expecting me to be there. I can’t close when I’m perfectly capable of opening. That would be ridiculous.”

“Lindsey, you are still in danger. What if he comes back to the restaurant and you’re hurt worse?” Jeff couldn’t keep the desperation out of his voice. He never wanted to see her hurt again.

“Do you really think someone would try again with a restaurant full of people?”

“The point is we don’t know what will happen.”

“Well, I’m not about to put my job on hold while you do yours.”

“Lindsey—”

“No.”

Jeff sighed. “Why is that everyone’s favorite word tonight?” He looked at Ray, whose mouth twisted into a smirk. “What are you smiling at?”

“Just thinking about how many times I’ve had a similar debate with my wife.” He looked at Lindsey. “If I didn’t know you were sisters, I would know you were sisters.” Ray’s wife, June, notorious for her quick temper and outspoken nature, had stood her ground against Ray and Jeff numerous times.

After a few moments of silent impasse, Ray cleared his throat. “Lindsey, let’s compromise. We’ll go to the station tonight and get your statement. Then Jeff and I can pick up the investigation in the morning while you make breakfast. Will you agree to having a patrol cruiser in your lot?”

She grinned. “Sure. Cops always know the best places to eat. It’ll be good for business.”

* * *

After a trauma, many people had trouble even remembering their own names. Not Lindsey. Jeff listened as she gave her statement, amazed at her clarity of memory and succinct descriptions of the evening’s horrifying events. As for himself, he could recall less now than earlier, and he remembered little of what happened after being stunned the first time. But even struggling to stave off exhaustion and the effects of the painkillers, he replayed the incident in his own mind as she talked, deconstructing every moment, every move. What could I have done differently?

His sense of failure knifed into his chest with a pain sharper than the blow to his ribs. He’d not only fallen short as a deputy but as a man. When Ray had asked for volunteers for the nightly escort—obviously a favor for his wife—Jeff had readily stepped up. He hadn’t dated since his mother’s bout with breast cancer two years earlier, and when he’d met Lindsey at Ray and June’s wedding, Jeff had been immediately attracted by her charm, intelligence and determination to make a success of her dream to open a restaurant.

And a little intimidated by that determination as well as her aloofness...until he realized that she worked hard to keep everyone at arm’s length—not just him. Even her own sisters didn’t know her well. When they both discovered he could make her laugh, a part of the shell fell away. They’d finally become close friends, and he’d hoped it would go further, but now...he’d failed her.

Lindsey glanced at him as she finished her official description of the car and her assailant.

He nodded his agreement; what she said matched what he remembered.

Lindsey paused, her eyes narrowing as she studied him closer. “Are you all right?”

Jeff sat up straighter, rolling his shoulders back. “Sure. The painkillers are taking full effect, but I’m all right. Go on.”

Ray glanced at him, as well, then turned as Lindsey resumed her statement. For the first time, Jeff truly absorbed what had happened to her, how she’d caused the accident. Her strength astonished him. “You took an awful chance.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I learned a long time ago that getting hurt is better than dying.”

Jeff’s eyebrows arched up, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he focused on every move she made as she finished. Every eye shift, muscle twitch. She looked at the digital recorder in front of Ray, occasionally glancing up at the sheriff. Lindsey’s expressions smoothed out as she talked, and she became almost motionless.

In truth, this was the first time in the six months of their friendship that Jeff had been able to study Lindsey so closely. During their nightly rides, he mostly focused on the road as they headed from the diner to the bank, then to the small cottage Lindsey had rented. She had chosen a sweet but unadorned rental within walking distance of the restaurant. She told him the morning walk to work invigorated her, got her mind charged up for the day, but she was more than willing to let him drop her off at night.

They only spent about thirty minutes each day together, but with her schedule, it seemed to be the only time she spent with anyone outside the restaurant. At first, she’d been exhausted and silent. Getting a word out of her had been like pulling teeth. But slowly, she’d shared more of each day’s drama. He got to hear about her employees, their lives, their problems. Customer issues. Supply holdups and new recipes. His responses often made her laugh, and she’d finally softened to him. He knew she was a believer and tried to get her to come to church with him, but she insisted that since Sunday was the only day the restaurant closed, she wanted to be alone, to rest, and read. She referred to it as “keeping the Sabbath,” and it was her time of silence and solitude after six days of being “onstage.”

Lindsey’s rejection of his offer to take her to church had left a distinct but undefined pang in Jeff’s chest—which was when he realized that he was falling for her. For someone who probably wouldn’t return the emotion.

Maybe she couldn’t. That thought stuck in his mind now as he watched her blue eyes focus on some far distance, beyond the recorder, beyond the walls. Her face barely moved, as if she’d been caught up in some long-ago event. He sat straighter, realizing why her behavior seemed familiar. He’d seen it, all too often, in other women....

Clarity of detail, but almost no emotion. Jeff frowned. At the hospital, Lindsey had been animated, as if still pumped on adrenaline. Now she hugged herself and revealed no emotion, almost as if she’d done this dozens of times. Combined with her lack of response to her own injuries, as if getting tossed around and beaten up happened to her frequently, Lindsey suddenly seemed less like an accident victim and more like a battered wife.

Or the battered child she’d been.

Jeff had heard about the abusive childhood the three Presley girls—April, June and Lindsey—had endured and survived. Even though he didn’t know all the details, what he did know made him seethe with rage toward their father. He had abused them all, eventually killing both his wife and son in drunken rages. Is that what you’re remembering now? he silently asked her. Is that what makes you keep a distance from everyone?

An odd image flashed in Jeff’s mind, and he blinked hard. An image of the GTO as it had pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot and ground in a circle to face the exit again. Distance. He blinked again, tying to recall a mere glance at an image his police-trained mind had momentarily locked on.

The tag.

“Distance.”

Ray and Lindsey faced him again. “What?” Ray asked.

Jeff tapped the desk, the image in full bloom in his mind now. “He said he’d driven down from Chicago, but Illinois requires a front license plate. The GTO had a University of Tennessee plate on the front...which would certainly explain the bright orange of the car.”

Lindsey’s eyes widened, and she grabbed his forearm. “And his accent. More Tennessee than Chicago.”

Ray made a note. “So we need to check records for GTOs in Tennessee only.”

“And juvenile records, where we can. This kid’s been in trouble before. No one that age starts by kidnapping a stranger.”

Lindsey tightened her grip on his arm. “And the drugs. He was definitely hyped up on something. Drugs to make him brave and stupid enough to try something like this.”

Ray glanced up at his deputy. “And you don’t think he stole the car.”

Jeff shook his head. “I think the older guy planned this and provided the car.”

“And he’s not happy about the wreck,” Lindsey added.

Jeff stared at her. “Why do you say that?”

Lindsey shivered a bit and pulled back into herself again, crossing her arms over her stomach. “That GTO had been completely restored. You don’t just maintain a car like that. It’s been babied.” She closed her eyes. “He said the kid deserved to die for wrecking it.”

Jeff glanced once at Ray, then reached out and stroked her upper arm with the back of his hand. “You need to go home.”

After a moment, she nodded. “And to the restaurant.”

* * *

Lindsey breathed a sigh of relief to find that the Sheriff’s Department had secured the restaurant. Ray had grabbed the deposit bag at the GTO and tossed it into evidence. He’d return it after they had fingerprinted it. Once again, Lindsey said a prayer of thanks that God had led her to answer her sister’s wedding invitation, bringing her to the amazing small town of Bell’s Springs, Tennessee.

Definitely a God thing. Exhaustion consumed every muscle, and with a sigh Lindsey leaned heavily against the back door of Ray’s cruiser, looking out at the stars. She almost hadn’t answered that invitation, thinking at first it had to be a joke. Their abusive father had kicked April and June out of the house after their mother and brother had died. When he went to prison, neither April nor June were anywhere to be found. Lindsey, just ten and still carrying her detested birth name of July, had felt betrayed and abandoned. She hadn’t spoken to either of her sisters in the fifteen years that followed.

She couldn’t believe that June would contact her after all that time. But a quick search on the internet brought up more information on both sisters than she’d thought possible, including a few details about the horrors they’d survived, and how they had thrived afterwards. April had survived an abusive spouse, and the people in her new hometown had helped her start a home-based business making jams and jellies. June, who had spent years on the street, had lost her first husband and been wrongly accused of murder. Now she ran a grant-writing business and authored a popular blog, June’s Bell County Wanderings, which was an online diary of life in this small town. Curiosity had dissolved into an unexpected longing for family. Lindsey’s anger at her sisters had vanished as she’d learned how difficult their own lives had been, how they’d fought to succeed. That they were both happily married now and living in a great community emboldened her with a hope she hadn’t felt in a long time.

So Lindsey had come to Bell’s Springs to reunite with her sisters, finding, in addition, a home for her own dreams.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Beside her in the backseat, Jeff still watched her closely, his attention warming Lindsey’s spirit.

“It’s a God thing.”

Jeff’s eyebrows arched. “Say again?”

She smiled, suddenly aware of how odd her words must have sounded. “Sorry. Not—” she waved a hand between them, pointing to the bandages they both sported “—this. Tonight.” She circled her hand in the air, then rested it on his arm. “All of it. Me being in Bell County. Finding a place for the restaurant so quickly.”

Jeff looked down at her hand, his words soft as he repeated, “A God thing.”

Puzzled, Lindsey watched him a few moments, then glanced in the rearview mirror at Ray. The sheriff studied his deputy, as well, his brows forming a single line over concerned eyes.

Why would this bother him? Lindsey turned again to Jeff, who clenched one fist, even as he placed the other hand tenderly over hers. Lindsey’s breath caught a second at the gentleness of his touch in contrast to the troubled expression on his face. But no one spoke again until Ray turned into the drive of the cottage she called home. Jeff seemed to shake off whatever troubling thought had seized him as he looked up at Lindsey, a forced smile on his face. He squeezed her hand, then released it as he reached for the door.

“I’ll walk you in, make sure you’re safe.”

“Sure,” she answered. As soon as he got out, she whispered to Ray, “Is he going to be all right?”

“Physically, he’ll bounce back quickly.” Ray’s expression remained stoic.

“Mentally?”

“He has a lot to work out.”

“You ever been through anything like this?”

He nodded. “Every officer goes through it eventually. Part of the job. No one’s per—” His words broke off as Jeff opened Lindsey’s door.

Holding her crutch, he helped her out, then walked her to the narrow stoop at the front of her house. “What time will you leave for the restaurant?”

“Around four. Breakfast prep only takes an hour or so, and RuthAnn comes in at five to help.”

“RuthAnn Crenshaw?”

She nodded.

“Anyone else?”

“Not till lunch.”

“You stay all day, right?”

She shook her head. “Lunch is actually light for us. RuthAnn stays till after breakfast, around eight, then goes to her retail job in Springfield. She comes back in at five-thirty, stays till closing. Damon Schneider and his sister come in at eleven, but after lunch prep, I usually walk home and nap till three. The Schneiders stay till six, then RuthAnn and I work till we close at eight. I’m going to have to hire at least one more person soon, but for now, that’s it.”

He hesitated, a sudden wariness in his voice. “So where was RuthAnn tonight?”

Lindsey’s eyes widened as she remembered. “She got a call just before seven. Someone said her mother had fallen. She took off like a shot.”

Jeff’s eyes hardened. “Did she say who called?”

“I’m not sure she knew. Do you think that had something to do—”

“I’ll check it out.”

Weariness flooded Lindsey’s body, and she leaned heavily against the door frame. “Why is this happening?”

Jeff touched her shoulder. “Get some rest. Ray will run me home, then he’ll be out here ’til you’re ready to go. I’ll relieve him and take you to the restaurant. You shouldn’t walk.”

“You really don’t have to—”

“Lindsey.” He interrupted her, then paused and let out a slow breath. “I know I didn’t take care of you—”

Without thinking, she cupped his cheek with her free hand, stopping his words. “You did all anyone could do.” The doubt in his eyes made Lindsey ache in a way she didn’t quite understand, but she knew neither of them could deal with it now. Slowly, she eased her hand away. “I’ll see you at four.” Straightening and pulling open the screen door, Lindsey unlocked her home and reached in to turn on the light.

Then she screamed.

THREE

In the flash of a second following her scream, Lindsey both recognized the man standing in her living room and found herself staring at Jeff’s back as he burst from behind her, blocking her from the intruder, gun drawn.

“Wait!” Her voice squeaked, barely audible, but Jeff had already realized that the abruptly terrified man in front of them posed no threat.

He lowered his gun. “Max, what are you doing in here?”

Ray shoved in behind them on full alert, only to have the same reaction. “Maxwell, we could have shot you.”

Maxwell Carpenter, “Max” to everyone who’d known him for more than five minutes, stood with his arms in the air, wagging his hands furiously and rocking from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” His glasses had slid down his nose, and he stared at them over the top of the black frames. “I was just worried about Lindsey. I heard the ruckus on the scanner. The door was open, so I thought she was home, then realized it was all dark.”

Lindsey shuddered as she noticed the two officers straighten.

“The door was open?” Jeff asked.

Max nodded, his hands still quivering in the air.

“Gage, clear the house,” the sheriff ordered. “Max, put your arms down.”

Jeff moved through the four small rooms of the house quickly, checking closets and under the bed.

His hands dropping to his side as if he’d held up barbells too long, Max focused on Lindsey. “You’re hurt.”

She smiled weakly. “Nothing serious. You really don’t have to worry.”

He shrugged one shoulder, causing a shock of dark hair to flop down over his forehead. He raked it back, his hands still shaking. “You’re my favorite tenant, and I’m a dad. You’re my Ashley’s age. It’s not exactly a habit that’s easy to break.”

Since moving into the small rental home, Lindsey’s affection for Max grew almost daily. Max Carpenter bore not even a remote resemblance to her own father, but she began to see why some women could view their dads so fondly. She reached toward the older man as if to comfort him. “Max—”

“You should have called us.” Ray Taylor apparently didn’t totally accept Max’s explanation. “You know better. You don’t just walk in on your single female tenants alone, and if the door is open but no one’s home, you call us. One could get you sued; the other could get you killed.”

“Actually, both could get you killed,” muttered Jeff as he returned to the living room, “given how many women in this county have carry permits.” He glanced at Max, then at Ray. “All clear. Back door was still locked from the inside.”

Ray nodded. “Lindsey, take a look around, see if anything is missing.”

Max pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I didn’t notice anything out of—”

“Lindsey.” Ray’s narrowed eyes stayed on Max, and his tone ended the conversation.

“Okay.” Lindsey adjusted the crutch under her arm and limped past Ray, a little annoyed at her brother-in-law. Max had been good to her, and he’d never entered the house without giving her advance warning. In fact, Max had been her business mentor since she’d arrived here. Ray had no reason to be so...official. Still, she looked around the living room slowly, then shook her head. “Everything in here looks fine.” She headed for her office, and Jeff followed.

The tiny home, with its living room, kitchen, two bedrooms and one bathroom, sat on a dead-end street along with eleven other identical houses, each one owned and rented by Max. The rents made up the bulk of his income, along with a small courier service he ran out of the converted house next door to Lindsey’s restaurant. Lindsey used one of the bedrooms as an office, and now she paused, glancing over the paperwork on her desk. “Why is Ray suspicious of Max?”

Jeff hesitated and glanced over his shoulder. “I’m not sure.”

“Max’s been great to me. He even helped me with the business plan for the restaurant, especially with the stuff relating to Bell County and all the forms and regulations for the state.” She turned and headed for the second door in the office. The house had no hallway, with each room directly adjacent to two others. The living room led to the office, which led to the bedroom. A walk-through bathroom separated the bedroom from the kitchen at the back of the house. An arch between the kitchen and living room made the area look bigger than it actually was.

Lindsey glanced around the bedroom and shook her head. “Nothing’s been touched.” A flicker of light outside the window caught her eye, and she limped over. Her next-door neighbor was RuthAnn Crenshaw, who worked with her. Barely visible in the golden light of her windows, the older woman sat on her front stoop, her knees drawn up to her chest and one arm wrapped around her legs. A red spot glowed and faded as RuthAnn took a draw on a cigarette.

Lindsey scowled, and Jeff touched her elbow lightly. “What’s wrong?”

“RuthAnn. She’s never up this late. She’s watching my house.”

“You think she saw something?”

“Don’t know. As far as I can tell, there was nothing to see. Nothing’s been touched in here. I probably woke her up when I screamed. Or she was still awake because of her trip to her mother’s. Her mom must be doing okay, or she wouldn’t be back here.”

As they watched, RuthAnn flicked the cigarette out in the yard, stood and went into her house. A second later, all the lights went off.

“I’ll tell Ray—”

Lindsey turned. “Please don’t bother her.” She touched his arm. “I doubt RuthAnn saw anything. I probably just didn’t latch the door firmly this morning. Sometimes I leave in such a hurry I don’t check. When I do, the wind will pop it open.”

“Lindsey—”

“Please. Her mom lives all the way over in Portland. She must be exhausted.”

Jeff clinched his jaw, and Lindsey could see he struggled with her request. “I’ll talk to her in the morning. I promise. If she saw anything, I’ll call you.”

He still scowled but finally relented, nodding just once. Satisfied, they finished the rest of her survey and returned to the living room, where Ray still held Max in his gaze, reminding Lindsey of a cobra captivating a bird.

The three men left, and Lindsey locked her front door and double-checked the back door dead bolt. She finished her nighttime routine, checking each of the windows one last time. A second cruiser sat next to Ray’s, and Jeff got into it, letting her know Ray had changed his mind about leaving her alone for even a minute. Max, who lived with his family a couple of blocks away, was nowhere in sight.

Lindsey sighed. Although she didn’t spend much time here, her cottage had become her refuge, her place of safety, where she recharged and prepared herself for another day. She’d filled it with inexpensive but comfortable furniture and decorated it with special touches of her own. A table runner that had belonged to her mother covered the top of the bookcase in the living room. After her mother’s death, she’d gone into foster care. The comforter on her bed had been a gift from her foster mom when she’d headed off to culinary school.

Tonight, the cottage felt a little less safe, but despite the tension and trauma of the evening, Lindsey sank into bed, settling her ankle carefully and cherishing the soft embrace of her covers. Yet, even as tired as she was, she wouldn’t relax without finishing her day the same way she had since she was a child. She plumped the pillows behind her, then turned to her bedside table, where she kept her Bible and music box side by side. Together with her mother’s diary, which she kept tucked into a secret compartment of the music box, these made up the sole surviving mementos of her childhood. The Bible had belonged to her grandmother, and contained a treasure trove of family stories, sermon notes and memorabilia nestled in its pages.

Every night Lindsey read a passage from each one, then prayed about what she’d read and the events of the day. Now she muttered, “Lord, I hope you’re ready for an earful tonight.”

Never, baby girl, never hesitate to tell the good Lord everything. He already knows it, just as He knows every hair on your head. But He’ll want you to tell Him all the same. He wants to hear your heart.

Lindsey leaned back against the pillows, the voice of her mother echoing in her mind. As a child, she’d heard her mother pray, talking to God as if He were her best friend. Maybe He was... She didn’t seem to have many others. So what’s in my heart tonight, other than people who want to kill me, hospitals and old GTOs?

Jeff.

Lindsey opened her eyes and let out a deep sigh. She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers. “No,” she whispered. “I can’t.”

But she couldn’t shake the way he’d looked at her at the police station, his expression determined and concerned, his touch gentle. The rich brown of his eyes had seemed to grow ever darker as she’d talked. One lock of his black hair always fell down over his forehead, and he pushed it back without thinking. Except for tonight. As he’d watched her, he hadn’t seemed to notice his own injuries, and he’d never touched that strand of hair.

“But I’m just another case, right? Just one more citizen of the county he loves so much?” Jeff did adore living in Bell County, and he often spoke of the people here as if he were personally charged with their welfare. And, maybe, in a way, he was. But even to her reluctant heart, the words sounded hollow.

“I just can’t,” she whispered to her walls. “I can’t be more.” She shook her head, trying to clear it of the image of the young deputy. “I need to stay focused. Dreams only come true with work.” And right now, a relationship was not part of her dreams.

She sat a little straighter and reached for her Bible. Then she paused, her hand hovering over the black leather cover. Every night, Lindsey reached for the Bible in the same way, her hand clasping it just so. Tonight, however, the Bible was not the way she’d left it last night. She pulled back her hand, and a slight chill ran up her spine.

Nothing in the house had been touched. Except her grandmother’s Bible.

* * *

Jeff waved one more time as the cruiser backed out of his driveway. After the warmth of the car, the post-midnight air gave him a slight chill. His head still throbbed, and every muscle felt as if it were on the edge of twitching, but there was a familiar comfort from just being at home. As he watched the taillights disappear over a low rise, a soft whimper made him turn and look down. He smiled. “Hey, buddy. Miss me?”

The golden Lab mix waited patiently on the bottom step of the staircase leading up to his over-the-garage apartment. At the sound of Jeff’s voice, Charley’s tail thumped wildly against the side of the garage.

“Yeah, me, too.” Jeff rubbed Charley’s head playfully, wincing from his injuries as he dropped down on the step next to his dog. He glanced toward his parents’ house and, as he expected, their low ranch home lay still and silent. Darkness filled each window, although a dusk-to-dawn light bathed most of the yard in a harsh lavender-white light. Alan wouldn’t get home for another couple of hours. Since her last bout with cancer, his mom always turned in early, and even though she’d been a nurse at one time, both Alan and Jeff were careful not to let their work intrude too much into her life these days.

Jeff hated to see how weak she’d become; his childhood memories were of a woman so vibrant and strong he thought she could take on the world. Alan had been a great stepdad, and when Alan was diagnosed with cancer, Jeff had come home from Los Angeles where he’d been working. He hadn’t wanted to come back, but now he hoped he never had to leave. After he and Alan had converted the garage loft to a cozy studio, he’d settled in for good.

Jeff let out a long sigh and clutched Charley’s ruff again. “I guess I’ve turned into a cliché, Charley-boy. The thirty-year-old man still living with his folks.”

Charley obviously didn’t mind. The huge fenced yard gave him plenty of running room, and the food and water were steady. Plus, he loved the occasional ride in the truck.

Jeff knew he should go upstairs, but as the painkillers from the hospital wore off, his head cleared. Despite the lingering headache, his memory had started to return with more details than he could recall earlier. He knew he should take more pills and rest, but at the moment, his thoughts bounced around in his head, going over the events of the night, seeing how many more details he could fill in.

Jeff remained amazed at how fast everything had happened—how his life, and Lindsey’s, had changed almost in an instant. At just before eight o’clock, Jeff had checked on Lindsey, to see if she was ready to head for the bank. As usual, she was, and he waited for her outside. Less than thirty minutes later, Lindsey lay trapped in a wrecked GTO and he struggled to recover from being stunned twice in one night. Both stun-gun burns ached and itched, but he refused to rub them. Not many officers he knew had ever been stunned twice, much less during the same attack. One attack, two assailants. One scared and high, the other cruel and efficient.

Jeff stilled, resting his hand on Charley’s back. Twice. The deep baritone of his second attacker’s voice resonated in his head. A stranger’s voice, one he’d never heard. Yet the man had addressed Jeff, talked about Lindsey, as if they were intimate friends. How do you know us? How do you...

...how did you know how to turn off the alarm?

Jeff stiffened. Lindsey had set off the alarm, yet it had been silent during the second attack. Turned off. Jeff looked down at Charley. “He knew the code. Wonder how many people have that code?”

Charley licked the excess drool off his lips and returned to panting, his eyes bright.

He made a mental note to ask Lindsey, grimacing again as he thought about her swollen jaw and twisted ankle. “She has no idea how lucky she was.” Her account of the accident horrified him. She’d taken a desperate, risky chance, one that could easily have killed her. She took it, knowing that if the guy got to his destination, she’d be dead anyway.

The second attacker must have been on his way to that destination when he left Jeff. That’s why he came on the wreck first, checking to see what happened. According to Lindsey’s statement, he stole the paper from the boy, then groped for the glove compartment before the first responders chased him off.

The glove compartment...

Jeff looked down at Charley. “Wanna go for a ride?”

Charley heard the word “ride” and jumped from the steps with a soft woof. Jeff pushed up, ignoring his aches, and headed to the first door of the three-car garage. He punched a code into the keypad next to the door, and the middle door slid open with a low rumble. He opened the door of his pickup, and Charley hopped in as if it were the middle of the day. He settled into the passenger seat and let out another low bark.

“Yeah, I know it’s late.” Jeff reached for a jacket from behind the seat, knowing that Charley would want the window down. Plus, Troy’s garage would be as cold, if not colder, than the air outside. He zipped it up, then got in and fastened his seat belt. “But I thought you might want to visit with Niki and Nora.”

Charley wagged his tail, then pushed his nose against the window.

“Okay.” Jeff started the truck’s engine, then lowered the passenger window, grinning as it made Charley one happy, windblown dog.

The ride to the garage didn’t take nearly as long as Charley would have liked. Although Alan and Elizabeth Gage lived on the far outskirts of town, everything in Bell’s Springs was still pretty close together, unlike the two other, more spread out, small towns in the county. Fifteen minutes after he pulled out of the drive, he pulled up at the former gas station that was the front of Troy’s garage. Troy had knocked out a wall and attached a Quonset hut to the back of the building, giving the place the oddest architecture in the county. It also meant the building was a mini–echo chamber, making sneaking up on Troy’s two guard dogs impossible.

Jeff knew where Troy kept the building’s spare key hidden, but a light from the office at the front of the building told him he might not need it. “Can’t believe he’s still at work,” Jeff mumbled to Charley.

They got out of the truck, and Jeff rapped sharply on the front door. The resulting canine explosion from within told him that at least Niki and Nora were awake. So, apparently, was Troy, whose bass voice shortly joined those of the twin Rottweilers. “This had better be good, if you know what’s good for you!”

Jeff watched through the grease-coated front window as the big man emerged from the office and crossed the small waiting area. The wooden front door flew open, and Troy stared at Jeff through the screen door with a resigned expression. “Yeah, I had a feeling I’d be seeing you tonight.” He glanced down at Charley. “You’re going to turn these two into pets yet.”

Jeff grinned. On either side of Troy, Niki and Nora wagged their tails and whined with pleasure.

“Well, come on in.” Troy pushed open the screen and the three dogs rushed together in a tumble of playfulness, then dashed deeper into the building. An ominous crash sounded somewhere in the depths, but Troy shrugged it off. “I fix things for a living.” He motioned with his head, and Jeff followed him into the office.

“I’m guessing Ray told you to stay away from here tonight, which is why it’s so late.” Troy settled into an ancient office chair, which groaned and creaked from the three hundred pounds on his six-foot-five frame. “Took you a while to argue yourself into it.”

“What are you doing up anyway?” Jeff sat on a straight chair on the other side of Troy’s desk. He inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar smell of the garage—a combination of oil, grease, rubber and something indefinable that might have been sweat.

Troy winced. “Jen’s sister and mother are in town. Thought I’d sleep here tonight.”

“I thought you liked your mother-in-law.”

“One on one, she’s okay. But the three of them together are like something out of Shakespeare. ‘Double, double, toil and trouble. Fire, burn, and cauldron’...whatever.”

Jeff grinned. Troy liked to keep the facade of the redneck mechanic for his customers, but Jeff couldn’t talk to him for long without being reminded that Troy had been an English teacher when he inherited the garage from his dad.

Troy went on. “Besides, with all the ruckus tonight, I figured either you or Ray would show up late to check out that GTO. Neither one of you can let something lie once you get your teeth into it.” He shrugged again. “Gave me a chance to get caught up on some of my parts ordering.”

“How’s the GTO look?”

Troy hesitated, watching Jeff closely. “You know they had to use the Jaws of Life to get her out, right?”

Jeff paused. He hadn’t. In fact, he hadn’t wanted to think too much about the wreck itself. Just seeing Lindsey’s injuries had been hard enough.

Troy apparently saw the conflict in Jeff’s face. He nodded. “Got it. Just wanted you to know that not all the damage to the car was from the accident. I know you’ve seen a lot of wrecked cars, but it’s always different when it’s someone you care about.”

Jeff took a deep breath. “Where is it?”

Troy stood. “In the back bay. That’s the most secure. Farthest from the door and the closest to the dogs’ bed.”

Troy led the way back through the waiting area and through what had been the original garage for the gas station. The smells of grease and oil grew stronger as they passed under two SUVs up on lifts and through double swinging doors into the Quonset hut. This was where most of the bodywork took place, and five of the six bays held vehicles in for insurance repairs. On the far side of a van that looked as if it had gotten up close and personal with a tree sat the orange GTO, its roof half peeled back and the passenger door missing. The shattered and crushed front end had compressed the big engine back toward the firewall, and blood spatters were all over the spiderwebbed windshield and twisted steering wheel.

Jeff’s stomach lurched. He had seen hundreds of accident scenes, but Troy had been right. It was different when someone you care about had been inside that much destruction. To think of Lindsey shoved into that tiny space beneath the dash...

“From what the guys said at the site, the blood’s mostly the boy’s, not Lindsey’s.”

Jeff didn’t respond at first, then turned to look over his shoulder as another flurry of barking came from the front of the shop.

“Now what?” Troy turned and headed back to the front of the shop, leaving Jeff to stare at the ruined GTO. He knew he shouldn’t touch it without gloves, but the urge to reach out to the ripped metal was irresistible. He hesitated, feeling one more time the ache of failure. If he’d done his job, she wouldn’t have gone through this.

“Man,” he mumbled to himself, “you’ve messed up with women before, but this time you fouled up with her and everyone else. She won’t look at you twice now. She shouldn’t.”

“Is this what you call doing things by the book, Deputy Gage?”

Jeff swung around, coming face-to-face with Sheriff Ray Taylor. At his side, leaning hard on her crutch, stood Lindsey.

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