A Deadly Memory Read online

  The elevator had stopped, but she could feel it swaying like it wasn't fully tethered. Her heart hammered in her chest.

  "Hold on, Piper. It's okay. Do you trust me?" Sean's voice was commanding, strong, sure. "You said you did. Did you mean it? Do you?"

  She nodded, not sure he could see her and added, "I do."

  "Good. Hold on to the rail for me while I find out what's wrong."

  Piper let him guide her and gripped the rail when her hand found its cool metal. "Got it."

  "Okay." He shone his cell phone on her. "I'm going to make a call."

  The elevator jerked, whirred, jerked again. Piper fought to stay steady in her heels. She flattened herself to the elevator wall. The lights flickered, once, twice, and then they were on, and the car was moving.

  She couldn't speak. She looked at Sean. There was something unreadable in his eyes.

  He took her hand. His fingers squeezed hers. "You okay?"

  Piper nodded. She leaned back, her heart so loud in her ears she couldn't hear the dings announcing the floors as they sped by. The light finally highlighted the seventh floor.

  The car stopped. The doors opened with a jarring vibration. The elevator wasn't level with the floor. They had to step down eight inches or so to the landing.

  Piper wanted to be out of the elevator, but her legs didn't want to support her. She stumbled out behind Sean, her hand still in his. He seemed to realize it at the same moment she did, his eyes going to their clasped hands then up to look into her eyes.

  “It was just a normal glitch. Nothing to worry about.” He didn’t look unaffected, though. He looked like he had something more to say, but footsteps had them both looking to their right.

  "Hey, boss." Walsh rounded the corner.

  She tugged her hand away, a wave of embarrassment sweeping over her. She drew back and wiped her cold hand on her dress like Sean had done earlier.

  Walsh jogged up to them slightly red in the face. "Did either of you see a rogue bridesmaid, dark-haired, about this high?" He held up his hand to his chest. "No? Done lost one of them. Slippery things. Ran right past me laughing, and now I can't find her."

  "Beth." Piper shook her head pointing toward her mischievous cousin. She tried to smile…as if she could appear normal like her cares weren't life or death. But her heart was racing so fast she worried it was going to stop altogether.

  Her cousin sashayed over, her laugh introducing her before she joined them.

  Piper took a deep breath, blowing it out as slowly as she could to avoid anyone's taking notice, then faced her cousin. "You shouldn't have done that. Walsh, I mean, Aaron here, is doing his job, and you aren't making it easy." She glanced over at Sean. "Not sure you’re getting it or not, but this is serious, Beth." Her voice had an edge to it.

  Beth frowned, her nose wrinkling "I only went to get the flowers from the kitchen's refrigerator. Relax, Piper."

  Walsh had crossed his arms. "We need you to stay in your room, miss. Like Piper says, it was for your safety. Just until we are sure it’s secured."

  Sean turned to her, like he was about to say something, but she cut him off.

  “Thank you…for everything. I appreciate all you're doing for me and Amy too. We all do." She hurried after Walsh and Beth, to her room, to the safety of walls that didn't move and a space that didn't have him there to distract her, to make her wish for his strong arms to hold her even tighter…to wish for what she couldn't have.

  The irony of her wish made her laugh, a short, shrill sound. She knocked on Jai's suite.

  "Hey, I wondered when you'd be back." Her sister rushed back inside the room. "I hated to leave you there, but I did have a lot to do. Everything okay? Can we get out of here on time?"

  "Fine. No worries." And there wouldn't be. Piper opened her purse and placed the gun on her nightstand. It was little comfort in a falling elevator, but it was nine millimeters of security here in the darkness of their room.

  Amy eyed the gun but didn’t comment. Then her voice floated over, questioning. "You sure? You sound funny."

  "I'm sure. The priest will be here before the hour's up. And you've got to be ready. Hustle."

  "I know, I know." Amy rushed into the bathroom. "And I am. Love you."

  "Love you."

  Piper went to the window. She eased the thick curtains back, looking down on the parking lot, out beyond the mountains, wondering where her life had led her when she'd left Mirror Falls and why now it had led her back here, back to her hometown, to losing her memory, her fiancé, her sister. So much so fast. So little left for her to hold on to.

  The elevator incident had brought up her worst fears, hurting her loved ones. Amy, Sean... Her chest tightened. She couldn't let anyone else get hurt because of her. She had to find the truth…the memory she'd lost.

  She picked up the almost-empty purse and pulled her cell phone from it. Names she didn't recognize were in her contacts, names that might mean more to her than she realized. She scrolled down, trying to recall anything, some small flash of memory, but none came. Frustrated, she tossed the phone on the bed, pushed off her heels, and lay back against the profusion of pillows.

  She could still see Sean's eyes locked on hers, still feel the paralyzing fear that she was about to die and take him with her. Remembering the sensation of falling caused her stomach to drop and she gripped the mattress. Her heartbeat thudded against her ribs. She had been so sure that was it. And her last thought had been a wish, a wish that was simply a cry for help.

  Piper closed her eyes against the prevailing thought weighing on her mind. I have to get through this and not drag anyone else down with me. Make it right, if it can be made right.

  When she stood beside her sister and heard her exchange her prepared vows with Jai, Piper was sure time was something she'd never get back and never get enough of.

  The feeling of being displaced in its reckless hands had her grasping at the moments in front of her. Amy and Jai sealing their bond with a kiss, being announced as husband and wife, dancing their first couple's dance, leaving her behind to begin their new life. Fleeting moments…fleeting memories, fleeting time.

  It seemed like mere seconds between the I do's and the rumbling motor now idling in front of her waiting to take her sister away, granted with a police escort. She’d ruined her sister’s wedding on top of it all. But Amy was all smiles. She stood in front of Piper, no longer Amy Adams, Piper's little sister, but Amy Gilani, someone's wife, maybe soon to be someone's mother. The thought made her heart swell. Her little sister was moving on, farther and farther away from her.

  Amy studied Piper's eyes, her smile turning half sad. "I won't go if you need me. Honest, Jai said we could wait. I feel like you need me here with you."

  Piper smiled, trying hard to get it right, and looked into her sister's face. "I don't need anyone, Amy. But I do need you to go, enjoy your honeymoon, shine at your second wedding—you will do great, I know—and be happy and take lots of pictures and see lots of amazing things and come back and tell me all about it, okay? And bring me back souvenirs."

  "Okay. I'm only a phone call away if you need me." Amy threw her arms around Piper and squeezed. "Let Sean take care of you, huh? Push that pride aside for a moment and let him. Don’t be difficult, mkay?"

  Piper swallowed hard. "I won't be difficult. Promise." She couldn't agree to let her ex-fiancé look after her. It went against the grain of who she was. Self-sufficient, self-motivated, self-reliant. Self-sabotaging. Piper Adams, an island unto herself. She pulled away from Amy. "Go. Have the best time of your life. Dance with Jai for me. And that phone goes both ways."

  "I know. I will call." She hugged her hard.

  Piper gave her little sister one last squeeze and pushed her toward her waiting husband. "Go."

  And then Amy was gone, taillights in the waning light. At least she’d be safely out of harm’s way.

  "Where are you going now?" Sean's voice pulled her away from the moment.

  P
iper turned and saw what she'd been avoiding. Sean. Sean looking unfairly sexy in the tux he’d worn despite the shotgun feel of the whole wedding. Sean looking like he was ready to kick the ass of whatever got in his way.

  She looked down, like the answer might be found somewhere on the ground. "Home."

  "Where's that?"

  Piper shrugged. She hadn't fully thought this through. There was no home to go to, no place she remembered except the one that was now gone. She literally couldn't go home again. Her gazed drifted off in the direction Amy had left. "I guess back to the city. They told me I have an apartment."

  "I don't think that's a good idea. You shouldn’t be alone. We don’t know who you can trust there. It’s too dangerous. Everywhere is too dangerous right now. And you aren’t... you aren’t fully healed yet.”

  Piper cringed. He was probably thinking about the elevator. That incident had certainly made her realize how much she wasn't herself and how scared she was, whether she admitted it or not. She hadn’t reacted well. And he was making it clear that he didn’t think she could take care of herself. And, as much as she hated to admit it, he was probably right. But there was nowhere for her to go. No home, no family. Just her. She squared her shoulders and pulled the shawl tight.

  "Yes, well, I can't stay here, though Jai offered to put me up for as long as I needed."

  "I have a solution. Stay at Nana's. And don't just knee-jerk deny." He held up a hand to block whatever he thought she might say. "She wants you to come, and I think it would be a good idea."

  "I thought...I thought maybe she didn't want to see me."

  "Of course she does. She thought she'd give you, how did she put it, a chance to come on home without her influence. She wants you to want it." He adjusted his tie. "I called your chief. Had to. Needed more information."

  She stared at him. "Why?"

  "To see what you got yourself into."

  The implication that she couldn't take care of herself even back when she wasn’t injured, that she would have somehow messed up, caused heat to rise to her cheeks. Piper threw back her shoulders. "Got myself into?"

  "Stand down, officer. I didn't mean anything by that."

  "Yes, you did. You meant I'm not capable of taking care of myself." Her chest rose with her temper. "I am...I’m just..." She hugged her arms to her, the anger fading away. He was right, dammit. She couldn't take care of herself. If she could, she wouldn't be standing here with no memory of the past few years. All the fight went out of her shoulders. Her whole body felt like it sagged in that moment. "Obviously, I'm really not capable of taking care of me. Temporarily,” she added. “You know how I hate needing someone other than me."

  "I know."

  She nodded. Of course he knew. He was the same way. "But you've been so good to me, especially considering...all the circumstances. I can't impose on you for more." She didn't add that it was too painful to be around him, too fresh a hurt to let him pour salt in it.

  "Your chief said for you to stay here and lay low. Seems your last case involved some high-profile criminals. Leave it to you to go after the big guns. Brave, but dangerous."

  He paused.

  The wind whistled by them, lifting her wrap up and out. It drifted across his arm and he caught it. He closed the distance between them and draped it hastily over her shoulders, his fingers trailing down the bare skin. She shivered, but not from the breeze.

  "You're as good a detective as I am, Piper. Damn good at serving and protecting. But we can’t trust anyone now. We know almost zilch. What do you think you should do? What would you tell someone else in your shoes?”

  "Take them off?" She smiled, but he didn't smile back. "Fine. I guess I would tell them what you're telling me. But what about getting my memory back? Being at Nana's isn't going to jog whatever isn't falling into place up here." She tapped her temple.

  "We'll take care of that too. But your safety is top priority. And I can keep an eye on you there." He shook his head slightly. His hand came up in a defensive gesture. "But I won't smother you. Nana would love the company. You need a place to stay. It works for everyone."

  It was logical, she had to admit. "And Nana is on board with this, you're sure? It’ll be safe for her?"

  "Scout's honor. She made me promise to invite you. There will be an undercover detail, round the clock. No one knows except us and the officers. Who I trust to take a bullet for me… and you. And Nana said to tell you that the key's in the mailbox, and she'll have a room ready just in case. Oh, and she is making all your favorite foods. She thinks it'll help your memory to get foundered I guess."

  He smiled, his affection for his grandma evident. Piper thought about the hotel room now empty of Amy's things, the Schrodinger's apartment in the city that would be as foreign to her as the names in her phone's contact list. Could she go to Nana's? It was as close to a home as she could get for now. She looked out at the road where Amy had gone. She had no one else who cared for her.

  "Yes."

  "Yes to getting foundered, or yes, you'll go to Nana's?"

  The wind pulled at her wrap again and she held on, pulling it tightly around her, though it shielded nothing. "Yes. I'll go. And knowing Nana, I’ll be foundered by nightfall."

  "When can you be ready? I think it's best we get you out of here as soon as possible."

  "I can go now." She gestured toward the parking lot. "I barely have anything anyway."

  "Alright. Let's get you checked out."

  9

  Nana’s tractor mailbox was spinning its tires in the stiff wind. Sean looked over at Piper sitting too still in the passenger's seat. Her head hadn't turned away from the window the entire trip.

  He hoped she was okay. What she’d been through was bound to take a toll. He worried she wasn't dealing as well as she was trying to front to him.

  "I know you're feeling helpless, but you're stronger than this, Piper. I know you might not feel—"

  "Am I?" She turned to him. "Am I strong, Sean? Because I'm feeling less than strong right now. I'm feeling like a damn victim. A victim, Sean. No power, no control, no hope."

  "There's always hope."

  She lifted her left shoulder slightly and turned away again.

  He turned to a safer topic. "Porch light's blazing. Nana must have been sure you would come." He hadn't been. Actually, he had counted on her saying no. Then she would have walked away again, back out of his life. And he would have gone back to normal. That he understood. Her not staying. Her not being in his life. Her not sitting beside him now so much like old times.

  Someone else would have protected her if she’d gone back to Barton. Although he wasn’t okay with that. Never would be. He didn't trust anyone else to keep her safe, and the idea that she would be out there in danger that he couldn't save her from...it ate at his gut like burning acid.

  He looked over at her, at the dark circles under her eyes, and for a moment it felt like she was still his. And he didn't want her to leave. Not this Piper. He had been counting on the Piper who had left, not the one who was still very much here, close enough to touch, so like the woman who had haunted his memories.

  She looked over finally, a ghost of a smile giving her absent look that ethereal quality that always took his breath.

  "She's painted it white and green."

  She gasped suddenly.

  “What’s wrong?”

  "What happened to the Weeping Cherry? That was my favorite tree."

  He looked out at the side yard where a small flower garden had replaced the tree, or rather the stump he'd had to remove. "Storm. Took down so much more than your favorite tree, though. Lots of homes destroyed. We had it better than some folks not too far away. Lives lost."

  "Oh lord, that's terrible."

  "Lots of rough storms. I had to rebuild the deck. Ripped it up like it was Styrofoam instead of heavy, cured lumber."

  "Sounds awful. You worked so hard on that last summer." She cringed. "I mean, whenever it was. I remember how pr
oud you were of that deck. A lot of sweat and some blood if I remember correctly."

  "Yeah, you remember correctly. And I'm lucky that's all I lost. Some things can't be replaced. A demolished deck is nothing." He cringed himself. "Not compared to lives."

  He would solve this case. He would protect her. Come hell or high water, he wasn’t letting anyone get to her ever again.

  "Yes, there are worse things." Her voice interrupted his thoughts. It gave away a slight faltering.

  "I'm sorry, Piper, I know this is hard. I know you are scared and feeling alone. But Nana considers you family."

  She nodded, and he saw her hands which had been loosely clasped in her lap change to fists. She pulled in her lips, fighting for composure.

  She swallowed, cleared her throat briefly, and lifted a now non-fisted hand to wave. He looked up at Nana waving wildly from the porch steps.

  "She's excited to have you here."

  "I'm thankful to be here." She bowed her head for a moment, and a single tear fell onto her lap, darkening the fabric covering her legs. He averted his eyes and got out of the car. He couldn't stand to see her like this. There had to be something he could do to help her, to lift her up.

  He met Nana at the car's hood. "Hey, Nana. Sorry to show up early."

  Nana ignored him, her eyes focused on Piper.

  "Early is better. I knew she'd come." She hugged him and hurried over to the passenger's side to pull Piper into a fierce embrace. "My girl. How are you, darling?"

  Sean left them hugging and talking and turned for the suitcases. The sound of a twig snapping caught everyone's attention. He saw Piper look around like she was expecting someone to pop out of the burning bushes lining Nana's driveway.

  A neighbor's cat darted out and raced across the yard toward the fence.

  Piper's hand was clutched over her heart. She actually looked hunted for a moment, glancing around the property, and then the mask was back, her plastered smile and veiled eyes covering fear and anxiety. He gave the perimeter an assessing sweep, glad he'd driven his own vehicle and not a squad car.