Читать книгу Fatal Flashback - Kellie VanHorn - Страница 18

Ashley was relieved to find a note rather than a ranger in her living room the next morning. The events of last night had been awkward enough without waking up to share a cup of coffee and breakfast. She had felt horribly vulnerable in the last few days and now that her head was healing, it was time to reclaim some control over her life.

Logan’s note indicated he wanted to get some things done before their drive to the canyon and that she could find him in his park office after her meeting with the superintendent.

She showered and dressed in one of the NPS uniforms in her closet; apparently they had been given to her when she’d arrived. More memories had solidified in her mind in the night, her past clicking back into place, giving her a reassuring sense of who she was and where she had come from.

But why she was here? Nothing. The previous months, except for that memory of a cab ride, were like staring at a blank wall.

She glanced at the time on the microwave. She had to meet with Dr. Barclay soon, but no harm in squeezing in another attempt at that laptop password. The last one she remembered hadn’t worked yesterday. What else to try? Names of pets? Bobo the parakeet? Too short.

How about JackyBoy, after their chocolate lab?

Strike one.

College roommate? KristaReed.

Strike two.

She crinkled her nose. Only one chance left.

She closed her eyes, setting her fingers against the keyboard. Maybe muscle memory could pull out the password her conscious mind couldn’t remember. It hovered right there, on the tips of her fingers. How about a hashtag first, for extra security?

Then... P-r-o-v—She stopped, rubbing her forehead.

Favorite Bible verse. Proverbs 3:5-6. But she would’ve abbreviated it. #Prov3:5-6.

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding...

So painful to type, with the way the words seared her heart.

But it worked.

Ashley let out a little squeal of delight before sifting through the documents stored on the hard drive. Most of it seemed irrelevant, until she came across a file labeled “Big Bend.” It contained several documents related to the park, including multiple maps and, better yet, several scanned pages of her own hand-written notes.

One name kept coming up over and over: Rico Jimenez. She shuddered. Somebody bad. But who was he?

She glanced again at the clock. Time to go. The superintendent was waiting. Tension crept into her shoulders as she hurriedly scanned the last few pages of notes. No doubt about it, she was here because of Jimenez. Now she had to figure out why.

Her gaze snagged on the message at the bottom of the last page, written in her own hand, as if her past self had left a warning. Don’t trust anyone.

Anyone? Even the rangers? Logan? She shook her head, closing the laptop. Someone had tried to break into her house last night, and there were only two possible items she could think of that they might have wanted. This laptop or the map she’d found in the guidebook.

The map she would carry with her, but the laptop needed to be hidden. She left the case out in clear view but took the laptop itself and wedged it between the mattress and box spring in her bedroom, covering the gap with the sheets. It didn’t seem likely anyone would try to break in during broad daylight, but better safe than sorry.

Ashley wanted to look at the map now, too, but she was out of time. Tucking it inside her shirt pocket, she walked the short distance to park headquarters.

The receptionist took her directly to the superintendent’s office. Dick Barclay rose from his desk as she entered, shaking her hand.

“Good morning, Ranger Watson.” He turned to the receptionist. “Sandy, please shut the door on your way out and see we’re not disturbed.”

Ashley took the seat opposite him. Wherever this conversation went, she’d have to be careful how much she revealed—at least until she knew whom to trust. One thing was sure: she’d have to downplay the extent of her memory loss if she didn’t want to be sent packing.

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” Barclay said. “Have you remembered yet what happened?”

“No, but I’m hopeful it will come back when we drive down to Santa Elena this afternoon. My older memories have almost fully returned.” Only a slight stretch.

Barclay nodded, eyeing her thoughtfully. “Do you remember why you’re here, Agent Thompson?”

Thompson. He knew she was undercover. That meant he must know about Jimenez, too. “Of course,” she answered smoothly. “To catch Rico Jimenez.”

Whoever he was.

Barclay sighed, pulling off his eyeglasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “This operation is a fool’s errand. I tried telling Morton that two months ago.”

The name clicked into place. Special Agent in Charge Donald Morton, her superior at the Bureau. She wiped her sweaty palms against her pants.

“I assure you, Dr. Barclay,” she said, injecting her voice with as much confidence as she could, “that I’m quite capable of doing my job. It won’t take long to apprehend Jimenez and bring him to justice.”

Barclay leaned forward, elbows braced on his desk. “Agent Thompson, I don’t know what happened to you yesterday, but this park has an incredibly low crime rate. I’m not going to let that change on my watch.”

Her brow furrowed. A threat? Clearly, he didn’t want her here. She forced a smile. “We’re on the same side, Dr. Barclay.”

His mouth pressed into a thin line. “Let me be blunt. There’s no way Rico Jimenez or any other cartel leader is operating in this park under our noses. I didn’t want you here before, and now that you’ve managed to injure yourself in your first twelve hours, I still don’t want you here. My rangers are top-notch. We don’t need FBI intervention.”

She swallowed but held his gaze. “It would seem the Bureau doesn’t agree. But I’ll do my best to stay out of your way.”

“You’ll do more than that, Agent Thompson.” Barclay’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll give me solid proof of Jimenez’s activity, or else I’ll call Morton and tell him about your memory loss.”

“He’ll send someone else.”

He shrugged, one eyebrow rising over his wire-rimmed glasses. “But it won’t be you.” After a pause, he leaned forward in his seat. “Here’s the thing. I agreed to this scheme as a favor to Morton, but I don’t want any of you agents in my park. The sooner you get out of here, the better.”

“Of course.” She smiled, trying to exude the confidence she didn’t feel. “I’ll get you something soon.”

“Three days.” Barclay drummed his fingers on the desk. “I’ll give you three days.”

Not long, especially given the true extent of her memory loss. But Barclay didn’t need to know that. She extended her hand. “No problem.”

Barclay shook it firmly and rose. She stood, also. The interview certainly hadn’t gone the way she’d hoped—putting her in the hot seat rather than revealing the crucial information she needed.

But as she turned to go, the superintendent held out a file. “Here’s everything we’ve got on Jimenez. I hope it helps.”