A Deadly Memory Read online

  No one knew where Piper had gone. He hoped. She’d agreed, not even Amy could know. Not yet, not until he had more information. He glanced at the porch, saw the screen door close behind her and Nana, and dialed Piper's partner.

  The guy didn’t know much more than when they'd last spoken, or that was his story for now, but promised to have the chief call Sean as soon as possible. Not good enough. He needed more reliable and more forthcoming assistance than the city police were offering.

  He thought about Piper's words. The fact that she thought of herself as a victim hurt him. Piper was not a victim. She was strong, tough, resilient. She just needed to be reminded of that, instead of being exposed to danger after danger because he couldn't protect her. And she needed justice to be served to the lowlifes who were making her their prey.

  He needed to be on the case himself. To find whoever was out to hurt Piper and bring them to the justice they deserved—one way or another.

  And that was exactly what he was going to do.

  The past few days of rain had more than settled the dust on Mirror Falls' dirt roads, turning what had been an unusually dry spring into a muddy mess. Sean spotted Walsh hooking up the chains from a borrowed tractor to the white truck. It was axle-deep in a flooded ditch. And empty.

  "Hey, boss. Let me pull this out and you can get a look inside. Called for a forensics kit. Think there's some blood on that broken glass there." Walsh pointed to the radiating cracked glass on the driver's window. "Found this, too."

  Walsh tossed Sean a muddy piece of paper. The edges were blurred, but the writing was clear enough. Piper's name, description, address all neatly typed with a list of names. People she knew. Amy, some aunts and uncles, him. He breathed a sigh of relief that Nana's name wasn't on there but was glad he had two undercover officers watching her house just in case. It wouldn't take much to connect the dots from him to Nana. For now, though, it was Piper's only choice, her only safe haven. He would have to make sure neither of them came to harm.

  He explored the truck, but it yielded nothing more. And he hadn't really expected it to. Hoped, but not expected. The next best thing would be getting word out to Mirror Falls' folks to be on the lookout. People were talking. They weren't happy having a criminal on the loose in their little town. And then there were the surrounding counties. Whoever had targeted Piper could have gone into either of the bordering communities and disappeared. Or they could be gone for good, though he doubted that. No, the likelihood of their leaving was slim. He was sure the asshole or assholes were on the outskirts of town or in the communities nearby, waiting for another chance to kill Piper.

  Sean looked at the list again. He would have to call Piper's relatives, none lived in Mirror Falls, but all were close, a few counties apart, close enough. Two aunts, one uncle. Two were, he knew, living in a retirement community. He and Piper had been there several Sundays to visit, but the other Aunt lived alone. And alone was never good.

  But that was how he'd left Piper…alone. No, she was with Nana, someone she knew and trusted.

  He headed back toward town, going over every detail he knew, adding it up in his head and coming up with a sum that didn't equal its parts. Piper had to have stumbled upon something more, something maybe only she could tell him. And therein lay the problem. She was the key to her own survival, and she couldn't help herself. He couldn't imagine how frustrated she must feel. How lost and alone and just plain empty. He knew her to be a good detective, a sharp observer with a maze of a mind that had cracked several cases, even cold cases in Mirror Falls and surrounding counties where she'd consulted. If she put her mind to it, anything was possible. And that was probably what got her into whatever this mess was. Her detective's nose and woman's intuition. Two things he used to count on.

  He hoped relaxing at Nana's would help her be able to access the memories eluding her, but if he knew Piper, she was probably doing anything but relaxing.

  His phone rang. Nana. He pressed the speaker, his hello coming out like a question.

  Nana sounded panicked and he cringed before asking, "What's wrong?"

  "I can't find her, Sean."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean she's not here." Nana's voice rose and so did his pulse. "Piper's gone."

  10

  The Barton police department ran like a colony of bees. Cramped cubicles were patterned off like a labyrinth, each more depressing than the last. Piper smiled at a few uniforms, got some blank stares in return and headed for the center of the chaos where a man wearing a dark blue suit and polished brown Oxfords waved to her.

  "Piper! Hey, partner. Over here."

  She tried to match the face to a memory. He smiled at her, showing a dimple in one cheek. He was at least a few years younger than she was, dark skin, dark eyes, a lean fellow with a hungry look. He could have been on a magazine, but not one she'd ever seen. This would-be model was her partner. Shouldn't she at least feel some recognition? They'd been sharing cases and protecting each other’s lives for three years. And yet nothing.

  Piper swallowed back the disappointment and smiled again. At least he smiled back. God, she hoped he wasn’t a dirty cop. She tried out his name, "Thanks for meeting me, Philip."

  "Of course, of course. Here's your desk." He ushered her over to a gray cubicle. Plain walls, empty trash can, a disturbing amount of index cards pinned to a corkboard.

  She leaned forward, reading the shorthand notes on the brightly colored cards. They made no sense to her. "Do you know what these mean?"

  Philip shook his head. "No, you had a system, you said."

  A system. Piper looked over the nonsense words. It was Sean's shorthand system. She blinked, finally understanding the scribbling. Nothing seemed familiar or important. Just notes on cases and suspects. None that might be dangerous enough to have her life in jeopardy. Of course, how would she know?

  "You doing okay?” He was looking at her bruises. “Piper?”

  "Yeah, sorry. I'm fine."

  "You always say that."

  "It's always true."

  "Ha. You can't make me believe that." He looked like he was about to ask more questions. Piper hurried to stop him.

  "So, you pulled those files? My last cases?" She glanced over at the folders. "All there?"

  "Yep. They're there in your inbox."

  "Are all my things boxed up somewhere? Until I get back from medical leave?" Piper looked at the mostly empty desk, her eyes gravitating toward the picture paperweight with a standard-issue photo in it.

  "Um," he cleared his throat, "this is all your stuff, Piper." Philip pointed to her desk drawers. "You may have kept something in there. That top one is locked."

  "Oh, well, thanks."

  "No problem, partner. I'll be right here beside you if you need anything. Can I get you a coffee while I'm at it?"

  "That would be nice. Thank you."

  "Two sugars, cream, right?"

  "I take it black."

  "Oh. Okay then."

  "Don't I?"

  He shrugged. "Your coffee. I'll be right back."

  Piper watched Philip disappear among the milling people. Since when had she taken sugar and cream? That was how Sean drank his. The thought had her reaching for her case files, putting her mind on her goal. Get her memory back so she could take back her life.

  She pulled her phone out. No messages. No missed calls. She breathed a sigh of relief. She had called Nana, let her know she was okay, but even though she appreciated everything everyone had done for her, she had to do this for herself. She needed her memory, needed her things around her, her space, her life. And that wasn't to be found in Mirror Falls. All it held was the past, a painful past that she didn't want to face.

  "I brought sugar and cream just in case." Philip set the coffee on her desk and placed two white packets and a little container of cream beside it. "Want to go over your files? I didn't tell anyone you were here. The detective from Mirror Falls didn’t have to say what he was thinking. I’m
thinking it too. You sure you’ll be okay? I’ll stay with you, not that anything would happen here."

  She thought about the blank stares she'd gotten as she'd come in. "Thank you. Philip? Why did no one seem to recognize me? Are we that removed from the uniforms? Oh, and, one sec." She pulled up the contacts in her phone and held it out to Philip. "Maybe you can tell me about these people, maybe about my personal life?"

  "I'll tell you what I know. And don't sweat the blank looks. No one knows anyone around here. Seems that way." He took her phone. "I know a few of these. Sally's in the DA's office— we get a few favors from her. Barry is the guy who owns the pawn shop downtown. These two are officers here, and I don't know the rest."

  "Thanks. What about my personal life?" She squirmed a little in the task chair. "Did I...did I date?"

  Philip shrugged. "Not really. I don't remember you talking about anyone. But you keep things pretty close. Besides, I don't know when you'd have time. You're always here or at the shooting range. Or on a case. Last one was pretty intense. It's on top. I figure whoever is after you is probably involved in that case. You didn't bring me in so I can't help too much, other than what I know from the file."

  "Thanks, Philip. I appreciate it."

  "No problem. Be right here in my little box."

  Piper looked down at her uncluttered desk, so unlike her. Her usual stack of papers, a profusion of sticky notes, and general untidiness was not a part of this, this persona she had found here at her cubicle. She stared at the carpeted walls. She had never wanted to work in a cubicle. She couldn't fathom what would make her trade her life in Mirror Falls for this worker-bee existence, this drone of despair that her life had apparently become.

  She picked up the sad paperweight. Not even Amy's face adorned her desk. Had she become a recluse? A workaholic? Amy hadn’t said anything.

  Piper shook her head. She couldn't worry about that now. She needed to focus on her case. Something had to jog her memory.

  For the next few hours, she studied every file there, memorizing her last case, trying to etch the criminal photos in her mind. None of the pictures rang any bells. Which was disappointing, to say the least. She had come here hoping to find answers, not more questions. But it seemed she was destined to only come away more confused than ever.

  She turned her attention back to the file. One picture seemed familiar, the bulbous red nose and capped teeth. She snarled involuntarily and wondered why her reaction was so intense. A flash of the man's face in the darkness filtered across her mind and then nothing. She dug her fingernails into her palm, ebbing the frustration that washed over her. She brought her fist down on the desktop, jarring the paperweight and causing her computer to whir to life.

  She looked at the flashing cursor in the white box asking for her password. Another wave of frustration caused her chest to rise. A tightness spread, constricting her breathing, filling her with an overwhelming ache. Anger mingled in, pushing her toward despair. No, she wouldn't give in to pity or anger or fear. Her life literally depended on her remembering. There was no use letting her surging emotions cloud her judgment or color her outlook.

  She bit her lip and relaxed her fists. She would get it done.

  Another hour of poring over the case had her eyes crossing and her back aching. She stood, stretching tired muscles, and came face to face with a large man in a too-small suit with a baked-on tan and a hundred-watt smile that made her recoil.

  "Good to have you back, Adams." He reached out a manicured hand and shook hers. "Are you here to get your things?"

  "I hadn't planned on it." She extracted her hand, feeling the urge to wipe it on her jeans. "Do I know you?"

  Philip came up behind him and laughed. "Piper, this is Chief Hardy."

  "Oh, I'm so sorry." Her blush intensified as she stepped back, feeling uneasy and off-balance. "I didn't know."

  He narrowed his eyes briefly and then fully wide with a belly laugh. "Don't worry about it. Mr. Hughes told me you were having a little trouble."

  "I wouldn't call it little." Piper frowned. "I don't remember anything about working here. I have tried, though, but it's a lost cause. Three whole years are just gone. Poof."

  "No hurry. We've got you on medical leave. You take all the time you need. Stay home and just focus on your recovery. Harris can handle this." He turned to her partner. "Right, Phil?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good, good. Then carry on."

  Piper followed the man's movements back to the glass office at the end of the cubicles. Slatted blinds were already pulled, and she could see nothing past a brief flash of black in front of the door.

  "He doesn't look like--" She caught herself. She didn't know Philip, didn't know anyone really. She shouldn't be airing her thoughts. She let the sentence hang, not sure how to complete it now that it was out there.

  "I know. But he's a former detective. Decorated military man, too. He's got a whole wall of medals in his office."

  She automatically raised an eyebrow and regretted it.

  Philip smiled. "Looks more like a politician, right? It's okay. You've said it before. If I remember correctly, you said he looked like he'd been stuffed with more pork than a senate bill."

  Piper cringed. That did sound like her. At least that meant she’d liked her partner enough and trusted him enough to share some less flattering thoughts about their boss. "I should probably keep those thoughts to myself."

  "I'm glad you didn't." He leaned in, conspiratorial in a whisper, "I think he's a big blowhard, said worse things than that to you. Be glad you don't remember all the colorful things I've said."

  He pulled back, his grin wider. "You once threatened to wash my mouth out with soap."

  "Sorry."

  "No, I should be thanking you. You showed me the ropes, helped me out when you didn't have to. Really, being your partner has been good for me. Even got me a date with a girl you went to college with."

  Matchmaking? Piper shook her head. What had she been up to in the last three years? Nothing sounded like her. Except the threat. "That’s awesome then. You've been really helpful, Philip. I can't thank you enough."

  "Anytime. I'm headed down to grab a quick dinner. Wanna come?”

  “I should stay here.” She indicated the mess around her. “But thank you.”

  “Okay, I’ll be back soon, but call me if you need anything before that. I’ll make sure you get home safe too. So, don’t go off without me." He started to leave and then pivoted, turning back to cock his head and give her a bemused look. "You know, you never called me Philip before today."

  Piper took in his good-natured grin and felt a stab of remorse for whoever she'd been. Seemed pretty closed-off or near enough. "Oh?"

  "Yeah, I like it. Feels less like I'm the bumbling rookie they assigned you."

  "Got it. Philip, it is. I do appreciate you."

  "No sweat. See you in a bit."

  "Okay. Thanks." Piper plopped back into her chair, the tension in her shoulders now making its way up her neck. She had been on a teeter-totter of ups and downs since she'd found herself in this mess, and today had only served to bring the whole matter to the surface. The weight of the whole world couldn't have been more pressing than the weight sitting on her right now. She was stifled, choked, completely crippled by her need to know, to get back to herself. Whoever that was.

  She flipped through the files again, distracted by the desk that held so little of who she was. It was devoid of her personality, lacking entirely in any memento of life. She picked up the paperweight, staring at the toothpaste smiles in the original photograph that hadn't been removed. The feelings she'd been bottling up bubbled to the surface. Her breath caught in her throat, and she tried to choke back the tears burning the corners of her eyes and failed.

  A few slipped down her cheeks, drop after drop of agony falling onto her chest. She held the paperweight, cradled it to her and then pushed it out in front of her. This was no life. No way to exist. She eyed the carpeted wa
lls, the homogenous clone of an office just like everyone else's. But it was even worse than that. At least the other "offices" had pictures of family, knick-knacks, personality. Hers was bleak—bleak, bleak, bleak. She gripped the weight tightly. She was taking it with her. It would remind her, even when or if her memory returned, that she couldn't live like that. Wouldn't live like that. Never again.

  She wiped at her eyes, dried the errant tears, smudging her cardigan sleeve with her mascara, and looked up to find Sean staring at her.

  "I came to take you home."

  11

  The box he carried was almost empty. There were files, two containers of microwaveable soup she'd fished out of a locked drawer she'd jimmied, and a paperweight with the price tag still stickered to the bottom felt. Beside him Piper was subdued, distant.

  Sean didn't know how to console her. Part of him was pissed at her for making him worry like that, but the rest just wanted to make it all better. Nothing he had said so far had helped. And now, standing beside her, he didn't know how to coerce her into coming back or what to say to make her feel better. All he knew was he couldn't let her go off alone.

  "I'm going to my apartment. I have to."

  "Then I'm coming with you." He handed her the box. "Do you know how to get there?"

  "No. I don't even know how to get to my own damn home. I took a bus here. The driver knew where the new police department was, or I'd have been wandering the streets, lost." She tried hard to keep what composure she had, but the last word ended funny, high and clipped. It echoed in the parking garage, long, hollow, haunting.

  "I have the address. Nana gave it to me. Come on." He shifted the box and put a hand at her back, surprised that she let him lead her to his car. "Your memory will return. I know it will."

  "It's not that. Well, not just that. Look at my life." She thumped the box. "That is my life. Empty. You know what's in there? I'll tell you. Case files, a pack of gum, microwave soup, a nameplate, and a stupid picture paperweight I never took the time to fill. How's that for pathetic?"