Читать книгу Recovered Secrets - Jessica R. Patch - Страница 15

Hollis hit the door running when the first shot cracked through the air and was at Grace’s front door as she screamed for him. “I’m here,” he called and slid across the floor to her. “Stay low.” He glanced into her bedroom and did a double take. A body lay on the floor. “Who is that?”

“Peter Rainey,” she breathed, her face deathly pale.

“You remember?” Had memories surfaced in the last ten minutes? Questions would have to wait. He needed to get Grace to safety. Hopefully, the shooter wouldn’t open fire on people in a public place. It was his only chance. Once she was out of danger, he would inspect the woods, then find out who the dead guy was in her bedroom. They huddled on the floor for several moments. The gunfire had ceased. The shooter could be changing positions, windows. Getting a better line of fire. Was it one of those men from earlier or someone new?

The woods covered the south of her house. North was the inn. No decent place there to find accurate cover or to get a good shot. “We’re going out the front door and making a dash to the inn. You ready?”

“Not really,” she groused. “But let’s go.”

“One, two, three!” He hauled her up but kept her hunched as he shielded her with his body. They sprinted across the wet walkway to the inn. Inside he slammed the door and kicked a kitchen chair into the corner. No windows. No easy target. He lowered her into the chair. Grace’s face retained the muddy streaks from earlier and strands of dark hair had come loose from its bun, sticking to her neck.

“I want you to stay here. I’ll be right back.” Hollis gripped Grace’s shoulders. “Promise me.”

She nodded as Tish entered the kitchen. “What in the world is going on? I heard the door slam and a ruckus in here...”

“Grace is in danger, Tish.” He gave her the short version, and with every word her face blanched even further until she looked like a walking snowdrift. “I believe she’ll be okay since the inn is full of people—though I can’t be one hundred percent sure, but still...keep an eye out.” He looked at Grace. “Call the sheriff. Chances are no one paid attention to the shots.” Gunfire wasn’t unfamiliar in the South, in this town—even Tish hadn’t been drawn into the kitchen from the gunfire, but from their commotion. “I’ll be back.” Hollis wanted his own time to search and he’d have it if he moved fast. Probably the SEAL in him, but he wanted dibs on any clues that might give them more information on the deceased and Grace’s identity.

Grace nodded.

“We’ll be fine.” Tish headed for the cherry-red tea kettle on the stove.

Tish had mettle and Hollis loved her for it. He retrieved his ankle weapon and slipped outside into the woods. After about five minutes, he found one man’s footprints in the mud. Fairly large. Hollis aimed his Glock toward the garden house. Perfect angle. Clean shot. Good distance away. No casings. Looked like the shooter had collected the brass, meaning he might be and probably was a professional.

He followed the prints about a mile until they tracked to an old back road. The shooter either cased the place for a few days, finding the best way to enter and escape undetected, or he was familiar with the area—a local or someone who frequented Cottonwood. The inn was rife with businessmen and women who’d rather stay in a cozy home for a week than an impersonal hotel. But why would a local want to hurt Grace or kill Peter Rainey? And who?

He hurried to Grace’s, wiping his muddy boots on her mat, then he entered. Under her sink he found a pair of yellow cleaning gloves and slid his hands into them, then he strode into the bedroom. He studied the scene. The last thing Hollis wanted to do was move the body, but he needed to inspect the wound. The air smelled like iron and Grace’s vanilla candles. Appeared to be a rifle shot. A possible sniper.

He carefully rummaged through pockets, searching for identification, credit cards, anything. The only thing on the man was a wallet with two hundred bucks and a single peppermint in his right jean pocket. Who traveled with no identification?

Someone who didn’t want to reveal their identity.

What had Grace been immersed in? He’d suspected an abusive relationship, and that was still a possibility, though it seemed much slimmer with the earlier attack and now this.

Hollis used his cell phone camera and snapped a picture of the guy, then swept the perimeter. No sign of danger. Back inside, Grace’s face and hands were clean and she’d redone the bun; this time it was higher on her head. Tish sat beside her with a cup of tea as they murmured to one another.

“I just hung up with Sheriff Freeman.” Grace stood, hope and dread vied for first place in her gaze. “What did you find?”

Hollis hated being the bearer of bad news. “Nothing. Let’s go through his room before Sheriff Freeman arrives. We don’t have much time.” Once Cord Freeman showed up, which could be any minute, Hollis feared he’d be out of the loop. Even if they worked closely on occasional rescue missions, Cord was a stickler for rules. Hollis might have to bend some in order to protect Grace and he didn’t want anyone—not even Cord—standing in the way. He turned to Tish. “Can we have a pair of those latex gloves you clean with?”

Tish made haste and gave him a pair, worry in her eyes. Hollis laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.” He kept saying that, but the truth was he had no idea if it was or not. “Come on.” He gave the gloves to Grace. She followed him through the dining area, into the foyer and to the front entrance where the stairs were located. They climbed up and around to the second floor. Found Peter Rainey’s room and entered. Tish said he’d arrived late last night.

“Did you find a driver’s license?” Grace asked as she opened and closed drawers. Hollis spotted a rolling suitcase in the corner of the room. Carry-on size.

“No. He had a wallet but only cash inside. Odd, don’t you think?” He carefully unzipped the black Samsonite carry-on bag. A pair of jeans. Button-down shirt. Socks...toiletry bag.

“It is odd.” Grace finished with the dresser and headed for the chest of drawers. “He told me that he calls me ‘Mad Max’ as a nickname. What does that mean?”

Hollis paused perusing the suitcase and glanced at Grace. Mad Max was a cop who’d lost his son and sought revenge. He was a wild card, but excellent at his job. “It’s from a movie. A series of movies. Mad Max was a good guy.” He left it at that and filed away what the nickname might mean in context to Grace. “What else did he say?”

“Our doctor is female and her name is Dr. Sayer. He didn’t know I had amnesia until he noticed I was scared. That signaled something was wrong. I guess I shouldn’t have been afraid of him. He also said he was sorry for betraying me.”

Hollis’s stomach knotted. Could they have been romantically involved? Had he betrayed her with infidelity? “Tell me everything.”

As they combed the room, finding nothing, she laid out the details. This guy carried light and had zero identification. How did he fly? Or drive? “We need to find his car.” Peter’s keys had been on the nightstand.

Outside, they spotted Cord’s sheriff’s unit. He’d bypassed finding them for the crime scene. Typical. “We need to hurry.”

Grace nodded and they rushed to the white sedan Peter had been driving. Nothing of value or telling inside. Just maps of Mississippi and stacks of brochures in the glove box for surrounding towns. Doubtful he was a sightseer. No, when he’d seen Grace was alive, he’d come straight for her.

When little Lilly’s disappearance in the state park had gone national, Hollis feared whoever hurt Grace would see her and come to finish what they started. It’s why he’d flown home early from his sister Greer’s house in Alabama. Now that Greer and Locke were together and engaged... “Remember me telling you about my sister’s fiancé?”

“The one who chases tornadoes for a living? What about him?” Grace asked.

“His sister is former Secret Service and now works with their cousin and a specialized team at a private security company in Atlanta. I also know the head of the company—he’s a former SEAL too. He looked into your case when you were in a coma, but obviously nothing turned up.” With these new developments, it was time to try again. “But they have skills that can get us information far faster than the local sheriff’s department. How about I call them again. Maybe we can dig up some information on Dr. Sayer, Peter Rainey and those Latino men.”

Grace gnawed the tip of her thumb. “I’m up for anything that gets me answers. He said others might know I’m alive. Why does that feel ominous?”

The sheriff rounded the corner on foot. Cord Freeman was a hulk of a man and as rough as a corn cob. A few years older than Hollis’s thirty-two years and serious about everything. He nodded at Grace, lingering a bit longer than necessary—like most men in town. She was striking and exotic. “Grace, Hollister.”

“Hey, Cord,” Hollis said.

Cord eyed his gloves, then Grace’s. “I see you’ve been playing CSI. I’m going to assume you weren’t dumb enough to disturb the evidence.”

Hollis’s jaw twitched but he reined in his temper. Cord had a point. “I’m not a complete idiot.”

Cord raised a dark eyebrow. Amusement gleamed in his eyes. He was mad, but not livid. “Well...at least you admit you’re half an idiot.” He smirked. “What’d you find?” Cord asked a million questions and scratched his head. The coroner arrived and Cord followed him to Grace’s. Hollis held Grace back with him. “I know things feel like they’re crazier than ever, but let’s look at it like the glass is half full. We now have a few pieces of information. Names. We can make this dog hunt.”

She reached up and lightly touched his cheek, no longer wearing the gloves. He hadn’t shaved this morning, but his stubble didn’t seem to bother her. “Hollis, I don’t know what I would have done—what I would do—without you. I will never be able to repay you.”

He caressed the hand resting on his cheek, his heart swelling and aching in unison. “I don’t want to be repaid, Grace. I just want you to know who you are.” And who she might belong to. He wanted her unlocked from this prison of her mind. Free to... He wouldn’t go there. “I’m going to call Locke and have him see if his sister can help us. If I can’t reach him, I’ll call Wilder directly.”

More deputies showed up and filed into Grace’s house. Her brow turned worried. “I hope this doesn’t mess up business for Tish. She’s worked hard to build this inn after Ed died, and having a shooting on the property isn’t exactly the picture of cozy and safe. What if they see the cadaver?”

Cadaver. A word that flowed off her tongue like it belonged there. She might be in the medical field...but he held reservations. A man with no identification found Grace...and wanted the doctor. Said he could be trusted. Two obvious bad guys wanted said doctor as well. Why would Grace know about this person’s whereabouts? Could Dr. Sayer be in the Witness Protection Program? He liked the idea of Grace being a marshal a whole lot more than a woman with a seedy past—possibly criminal. Hollis couldn’t imagine Grace would desire to return to that environment if her memories surfaced. He was there the Sunday she walked to the front and gave her heart and life to God. She was a new person now. But the needling inside him intensified. Reminded him of his own past.

Mary Beth had been a bright and shining star when he’d moved to Cottonwood to take over the SAR several years ago. He’d fallen fast and thought she returned those feelings, but after a year she claimed she didn’t know who she was and needed to find herself. Whatever that meant. She’d asked for three months, and Hollis had agreed with hopes she’d return from New York ready to move forward in their relationship.

But instead, she’d decided small-town life wasn’t for her. It was mundane. Too small. Not enough excitement. She ought to be here now. Mary Beth would have more excitement than she could handle.

She’d broken Hollis’s heart, and all but told him he wasn’t enough. He’d managed to get over the fact that his dad had walked out on his family, but Mary Beth stomping on his heart seemed different. Didn’t matter now. It was water under the bridge. Which reminded him. “I’d like to take a boat out and check river levels.” He peered into the sky. “I don’t see this letting up.” They had levees in place, but if this didn’t level off soon, he wasn’t sure what would happen. Being a water town had its perks, but also its fears.

“The rain or what’s happening to me?” Grace muttered.

Truthfully?

Both.

* * *

Grace watched as they discreetly carried the body of Peter Rainey from her home. She answered additional questions for Sheriff Freeman, though she had only so much to offer. After that hoopla wore off and a crew had come in and cleaned for her, she and Hollis sat on her worn gray couch and he made a call to Locke and then to Jody Novak, Locke’s sister. They put her and the team at Covenant Crisis Management on Speaker and Hollis relayed everything that had happened.

Wheezer, their computer analyst, had jumped on the search and according to the team, if there was something to be found he would find it. Grace hoped so. Once again, she prayed and asked God to reveal her past so she could move forward.

“Okay,” Wheezer said over the speaker, “I have a pretty large list of Dr. Sayers. Cutting down to female. Less of a list. I’m going to filter the search to doctors who went off-grid in the past two years. It’ll take a minute, but when I have something, I’ll call you.”

“Hang in there,” Wilder Flynn, the security team director, said to Grace. “We won’t stop until we have answers. If you need us there, Hollister, say the word. I can send a team member or personally fly in.”

“I appreciate that, Wilder. For right now, I think we can manage.”

Grace did, too, but flying blind was dangerous. Anyone could be against her. She wouldn’t recognize an enemy from an ally. They hung up and she offered to make coffee.

Hollis grinned. “I never turn down coffee.”

Grace actually laughed. As she headed for the coffee pot in her kitchenette, she glanced inside her bedroom and a sudden wave came over her. A memory! Like a scene from a movie playing in full color in her mind.

Grace was dressed in a long black evening gown, her hair swept to the side. She had her arm looped into a man’s and as she gazed up, it was Peter Rainey’s face. He laid his hand on hers, and that’s when she noticed the engagement ring. Peter leaned down and kissed her. “You look beautiful, Max,” he said.

Then the memory was gone. Fade to black.

She fumbled the carafe and it slipped from her hands, crashing to the floor. Hollis jumped up from the couch. “Grace?”

“Sorry... I uh—I dropped the coffee pot. Don’t come over here. Glass.” She rushed to the small pantry and retrieved a broom, but her hands shook. What did this mean? Had she been engaged—married even—to Peter? His betrayal could have been adultery. She’d had little moments of memory pops over the past six months but nothing this big. This substantial. This confusing. Grace went to task sweeping up the glass shards.

“What startled you?” Hollis asked.

Heat ballooned in her cheeks. She couldn’t hide this from Hollis. But everything in her wanted to keep it buried. “I... I had a flash of a memory. A snippet really, and it unnerved me. Came on so sudden.”

Hollis ignored her warning about the glass and leaned over the breakfast bar, resting his elbows on it and putting himself eye level with her. “What was it?”

“I’m not sure what it meant,” she whispered as she dared a peek at him. Solemn eyes. Jaw tight. As if bracing himself for the worst news. What would be the worst news to Hollis? Had she once loved Peter? He’d never mentioned any feelings. Granted, he hadn’t had much time before he was murdered. It was as if someone knew he would talk, and they were shutting him up.

Instead of revealing the secret, she changed the subject. “Someone wanted Peter dead. He was going to tell me who I was and possibly answer any further questions I may have had.”

Hollis’s lips twisted to the side as he pondered the information. “If the shooter didn’t know you had amnesia, then killing Peter first might not be about him giving you information as much as you giving Peter information...as in the doctor’s location. If those Latino men wanted the doctor, they could have killed Peter to cut him out of finding her first.”

“Excellent point. The guy with the gun may have believed I’d go with Peter. The men who attacked me didn’t realize I had amnesia—neither did Peter at first. If they’re behind killing Peter, your theory makes more sense.”

Hollis nodded. “I wonder if he was truly your ally. He said to trust him, but he also said he’d betrayed you.”

“He mentioned it had all been lies. What does all mean?”

Hollis’s phone rang, and he answered. “...Okay. Location? We’re on our way. I got Grace with me.” He hung up. “Two teenage boys out fishing on the river. With the rain and flow, they can’t paddle in. Need a tow.”

Grace left the broom and a pile of glass on the kitchen floor and followed Hollis outside to his truck. “Why would teenage boys be in the fast-flowing Mississippi River, knowing all the water—”

“One, they are teenage boys. Two, teenage boys have no sense. I know. I was one. And I’m sure there was a dare involved. They’re going to be grounded for a century.” Hollis chuckled but it didn’t quite hit the jovial mark. They could drown out there.

They stopped at the SAR facility. Hollis hitched the trailer to his truck and loaded the boat onto the trailer while Grace grabbed extra life vests. They headed west on Old Highway 4 until they reached the parking lot at the river’s boat ramp entrance. Grace backed the boat down the ramp and they lowered it into the water, put their life vests on and sped across the choppy waters toward the location the boys had given the 911 dispatcher.

Grace pointed ahead. They were bobbing in a little johnboat. “You’re right. They have no sense at all.”

Hollis pulled the boat close and tossed a rope. Then he leaped into the boys’ johnboat, rocking it wildly. Both boys sat quietly. No doubt dreading the parental punishment to come. Once he tied the rope, he said something to the boys and they nodded. “We need life vests, Grace. They seem to have lost theirs.”

Both boys hung their heads as Grace tossed two over.

“I’m going to ride with them. Pull us in,” Hollis said.

Grace nodded and slid into the captain’s seat, revved the engine and carefully turned the boat, so she didn’t tip the little one behind her. She towed them to the ramp. The older teen hopped out and ran and got his truck, then backed the trailer into the water as the other boy and Hollis secured their boat on the trailer.

“Don’t run off just yet,” Hollis called. “Park up there and wait on me.”

After securing their own boat, they pulled up beside the boys, hopped out and reclaimed the vests.

“They are sorely regretting this decision,” Hollis whispered, amusement lining his words. He gave them a stern warning about boating in the river—especially when it was this high and without life vests—and said that their parents would be receiving a phone call from him. The boys nodded and gave yes sirs, then Hollis and Grace strolled toward Hollis’s truck.

“Well, that was fun,” Grace deadpanned and turned toward the Big Muddy, Hollis leaning on the side of the truck. “River is really high, Hollis. That concerns me.”

“Me too.”

The boys peeled through the gravel lot, fishtailing and whooping and hollering. Hollis shook his head. “And they learned nothing. They’re just going to take their recklessness to the roads.”

Grace frowned. “Recklessness. I can’t make that definition come.” Stuff like this happened all the time, and it was frustrating to no end.

“It means behavior with no thought that it could endanger themselves or others. Or both.” He sighed. “Make sense?”

Hollis had been her saving grace these past two years, but now that her life was in danger, was she being reckless by letting him stay involved? He watched her carefully, waiting for her answer. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Makes sense.”

“Grace, are you okay? Since the memory flash you’ve been kinda off. You know you can share anything with me, right? I’m here for you. We’re...we’re friends.” That last sentence seemed hard for him to say. They were friends, though. She couldn’t remember ever having any but surely friends cared enough to look out for one another. Hollis was protecting her, but who was protecting him? Not Grace. But down deep came an intense desire...so incredible—to protect him. To guard him. She wasn’t even sure she had the ability, but the emotion was so wildly strong that surely she must have the power to back it up.

“I need you to know, Hollis—”

Pop!

A bullet whizzed past and Grace winced as a sudden sting seared her skin. Her jacket ripped open near the shoulder. She’d been shot.

Hollis threw her to the ground. “Get under the truck,” he hollered and they slid their way underneath. “How bad are you hit?”

“A graze. I think.” If it was the same shooter from earlier this morning, he had excellent aim. Either he missed this time or was sending a deadly warning that if she didn’t cough up the doctor, next time he wouldn’t miss. She squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t know how to make these people understand that the information they want is sealed up tight in my brain!”

“We’ll worry about that later. Right now, shimmy out the other side. Stay down, but get inside the cab. I’ll wait until you’re in before heading for the driver’s side.”

“No! Hollis, they may shoot you on sight. They have no reason to keep you alive, and they may believe that killing you might make me talk.” It wouldn’t. The very thought of them hurting Hollis sent a rage she didn’t remember ever feeling through her system. It was cold. Dark. And frightening—because for a split second it crossed her mind to make them pay if they hurt him. Deep in her marrow, a whisper said she could do exactly that.

“Don’t worry about me, Grace. I’m a big boy and this ain’t my first rodeo.”

“I know, but—”

“Get in the truck. We can argue later.” His voice had the same scolding tone he’d laid on the boys, but she caught a measure of fear behind it—not for him but for her. She scooted until she was free from under the truck, then rolled over and carefully ducked while opening the door.

A bullet slammed into the hitch. Were the shooters toying with them? “Hollis, you need to come out this side and slide in. I’ll drive.”

Hollis paused then followed suit. Grace stayed low but scooted over.

Another shot fired. Her arm burned like crazy, and blood had seeped through her shirt and jacket.

Hollis jumped in, and Grace hit the gas, the truck throwing up gravel and fishtailing through the parking lot. She kept the pedal to the metal until they neared the SAR facility. Hollis had remained quiet, his jaw clenched. Once they jumped out, he rounded on her with fire in his eyes. “Grace! I can’t believe you!”

Grace stepped back stunned. “Me? You’re angry with me?”

“You don’t change orders in the middle of a mission. It gets your team killed.” His voice had risen an octave or two.

“Yet I’m the only one wounded.” She shoved her shoulder around so he’d get a good look. Why was she so angry? “I was trying to save your sorry tail from getting your head blown off. That was a Barrett M82A1, thank you very much! And you’re mad because you could have—”

“What did you say?” he asked, eyes wide. The anger dissipated.

“I said, I saved your sorry tail?” What had she said? She was fired up and for no good reason—Hollis was right. She hadn’t experienced this kind of fury before, and it terrified her that it could be buried deep within her.

“No. You said I could have had my head blown off by a Barrett M82A1. That’s a sniper rifle, Grace. A very specific rifle. How do you know that?”

Grace gasped. She had said that. How did she know? “I recognized the sound. It makes a high-pitched pop.” Was she an arms dealer or something? She nearly fainted.

“Grace, could you have been in the military?”

It was a nicer thought than where she was going. “Maybe? Are there female snipers in the military?”

Hollis stared blankly, then blinked. “Only a handful, but yes.”

Grace Thackery. Quilter, bed sheet changer, dining server and possibly a US military sniper. “Now what?” she whispered, unsure she wanted her memories back. If she’d been a sniper, maybe she’d been on a mission to rescue the doctor. In Mississippi?

Hollis touched her shoulder. “First we mend this graze. And then, Grace Thackery, Mad Max...we put a rifle in your hands and see if your brain remembers if it loves the feel of it in your hands or not.”