Fractured Memory (9 page)

Julia motioned Eli off the couch to the bed and pulled the covers down and then arranged the multitude of pillows so he could rest with his back against the headboard. “And you’ll need to be resting. It will help your breathing if you’re sitting upright.”

Dr. Solan came up next to him and handed him a small white tablet and set a black bag on the bed that held a green oxygen bottle. Julia took a package from him that contained clear tubing.

“Take this,” James said. “It’s the medication.”

Julia extracted the tubing from the package and after he swallowed the medication placed the prongs in his nose. James turned on the tank and he felt the rush of a cool, swift stream of oxygen fill his nose. He took several deep breaths, which led to more coughing. Julia rested her hand in the middle of his chest—likely from instinct, but then it remained, which caused the soft beeping on the monitor to chirp faster, his physical response to her touch betrayed by a tiny probe at the tip of his finger.

“We’ll shut that portion of the monitor off so you can get some rest,” James said.

Eli held his hand out to shake the doctor’s hand. “This is going above and beyond. I won’t forget it.”

“No thanks necessary. I’m hoping my good deeds here will convince Julia that she needs to return to the adult ER world.”

Julia pulled a chair close to Eli’s bedside. “He’ll be a good enough dose of adult medicine that I won’t feel the need to
ever
go back.”

Eli smiled. The best nurses always had a sarcastic sense of humor to help put the patient at ease.

“Remember what I said,” James scolded. “If you’re not better by morning you’re coming down the mountain with me, and your agency will have to send others to keep Julia safe.”

James handed Julia his stethoscope. “Listen to those lungs every few hours. If they still sound like they do now and he still needs the oxygen, then repeat the Lasix dose. We’ll have a good idea by morning if he’s going to fly or not.”

Eli saluted the physician on his way out. Which left him and Julia alone.

Julia grabbed the sheet and covered the lower half of his body. “Are you comfortable?”

More coughing. He nodded. Knife-sharp spindles of pain shot like electricity through his chest, and he pressed his arms into his ribs to counteract the pain.

When he leaned forward, she rubbed her palm against his back and briefly her hands wandered into his short lengths of hair where she massaged his neck. Too soon, she withdrew her hand, and he settled back against the pillow.

“Sorry,” she said. “Kids are put at ease more quickly with a calming touch, but it probably doesn’t translate well to adults.”

“I didn’t mind.” Was it wise for him to say that?

“Well, forgive me if I absentmindedly rustle your hair like I do my younger patients.”

This whole scenario confused him. Eli didn’t have anything left. No weapon. No credentials. The river had stripped everything from him. He felt about as naked as a man could feel. Even his own clothes were unworthy to be worn.

Was that how Christ felt? On more an intellectual level, Eli had been intrigued by Jesus’ story. The claims of Christianity were outrageous. God becoming man as a sacrifice to save mankind. Christ, too, had been stripped of everything when he came to earth.

Imagine leaving heaven and landing here. Even what we think of as majestic mountains must have seemed like the most impoverished shantytowns compared to the grandeur He normally dwelt.

From a pure common sense point of view, God creating the world made the most sense to Eli. Without outside intervention...everything fell apart. What he knew he missed with God was the emotional connection. It was what Julia had. What he was jealous of.

What he was beginning to feel that he could have—that he absolutely needed—with Julia.

And now their roles were reversed. It wasn’t that Eli felt on the verge of death—just physically exhausted, but nothing that a good night’s sleep couldn’t fix. But how well could he protect Julia at this moment in time? He’d have to depend on Will’s good judgment to get them through the night. How had Will scored on his last weapons test?

Regardless of how Eli felt, he’d have to allow Julia to take care of him if he ever hoped to recover quickly enough to do the job he needed to do.

Eli both loved and hated the idea.

* * *

Julia closed her eyes and eased her head back. Usually, it was easy for her to slide into her role as a nurse. Providing medical care for Eli wasn’t the problem. Being physically close to him would be the hard part.

He’s going to pick up on this. He’s going to get a sense that I’m attracted to him. That I want to know about our past together.

Before the thoughts could take over her rational mind, she stood from the chair and placed the stethoscope in her ears.

“I need to listen to your lungs.” She lifted the top of his T-shirt and snaked the end of the stethoscope under it to his left chest. “Take a deep breath.” He complied, and she kept her fingers firmly on the bell so her fingertips didn’t brush against his skin, fearing her touch would give away her stammering heartbeat. She repeated the same thing on the right side. With her left hand, she reached for his upper arm, her hand settling over the concave curve of his biceps as she eased him back up to a sitting position. She lifted the bottom of his shirt and listened to his lungs again and then quickly pulled the shirt back down.

“How do I sound?” Eli asked.

“Junky.”

“Dr. Solan made that word up. That can’t be a medical term.”

Julia smiled. “If you said that phrase to any medical person across the country, they would know exactly what you were talking about. That means
it is
an official medical term.”

The oxygen tank lay next to him on the other side of the bed and she leaned over Eli to check the amount James had placed him on. One liter. She checked his oxygen level on the finger probe. It still hovered around 89 percent. Not terrible for altitude, but might as well get him to a more normal level, since they were giving the oxygen. She turned the dial until it read two liters.

As she was about to straighten up, she felt Eli brush his fingers, warm and tender, across her cheek and tuck her hair behind her ear. As she stood, he reached for her and held her hand.

“Julia...”

Every quirky cartoon she’d watched as a child rushed into her mind, and it wouldn’t have surprised her if Eli could see her heart bounding from her chest, little pink hearts fluttering out of her eyes.

He tugged at her hand and drew her closer, bringing one hand up and resting it behind her neck, stroking her hair between his fingers. The strength in her knees withered, and she steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder as he continued to ease her closer.

Ever so slowly, she inched toward him. He guided her face next to his and rustled his cheek against hers, soft, musky and freshly shaven—her resolve to pull away disappeared. His touch contained so many things missing from her life.

Safety. Protection. Love?

Both of his hands caressed her neck, and it was the first time that kind of touch didn’t cause the unwanted onset of a panic attack. He eased her back slightly and then pressed his lips against hers.

Soft. Warm. Gentle. Searching.

Everything she expected from a first kiss.

Julia leaned in just a little, and—

A quick three knocks rapped on the door. Julia pulled away from Eli and managed to settle herself back into her chair before Will came through the door.

“How’s the patient?” he asked.

Julia cleared her throat. “We’re good. I mean—”

“Julia’s taking great care of me,” Eli said. “How are things downstairs?”

Will’s eyes roved between the two of them.

Had he picked up on their too-brief kiss?

“Fine,” he said. “I contacted Quentin and gave him a heads-up as to what’s going on. Jace was checked but released from the hospital. Ben took him home. In the morning, we all need to get back to the office by noon. Quentin says he’s got some information that could move the case forward. Then we’ll decide what the next best option is. Considering our state and that this cabin is off the treaded path—he’s fine with us being here for one night. He doesn’t want to put this family at risk beyond that.”

“Great. Thanks for the update, Will.”

He bowed out and closed the door behind him.

Eli reached for Julia’s hand again.

* * *

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

An ache settled at the base of Eli’s throat. It wasn’t the first words he imagined he would say after a kiss—their first kiss. Death would have been better than him living through the look in Julia’s eyes.

When she came near, something overcame him. Something unexpected. Something he’d never felt for another woman before. His heart cried out to somehow adequately thank her for saving his life. Words were never Eli’s gift, and yet the physical expression of his emotional connection to her couldn’t have come at a worse time.

He had a job to do and he couldn’t fail at it. An emotional connection, especially acting on it, would jeopardize them both. It already had done so, and even though Julia had pulled him from the river that nearly took his life—the feelings he had for her would do the same if he didn’t figure out a way to control them.

Eli wished he’d drowned, because his ineptitude at being able to verbally express these feelings reflected a pain in Julia’s eyes that he didn’t want to inflict.

He’d hurt her...deeply.

“I mean, I’m sorry but I’m not sorry...” He exhaled and the pain in his chest flared. “There are so many things wrong with what I just did. It’s completely unprofessional and...”

Julia brushed a tear from her eye and offered him a weak smile. “I get it. I really do. It’s been a trying day for everyone. We just need to get some sleep.”

What he never wanted to do, he’d done in spades...caused her more pain. How could he make this right? If he didn’t fix it, Quentin would pick up on what was happening and assign another agent to her. Eli couldn’t let that happen.

“It’s not the right time,” he said. Would there ever be a good time?

She stood from the chair and crossed to the couch, lying down and pulling an afghan over her. Even in her mildly disheveled state, she looked beautiful. Her normally curly blond hair soft and blown straight still tousled from his touch. Was there an opportunity for them to get past this? Would it ever be possible to have normal lives together?

“You’re him, aren’t you?”

Eli blinked quickly. “Who?”

Julia tucked the blue-and-green afghan under her chin, her scars hidden—the piece of knitted love a better protector for her than he was. “When I finally came out of the fog of my brain injury, my grandfather told me that my parents had died on the way to the hospital to see me.”

Eli clutched his sheet in his hands. On the surface, she was trying to be brave—to act as if she had weathered and overcome the horrid events of her life. But in those dark eyes a relentless storm brewed.

“Going to my parents’ graves was the hardest thing. Seeing their names in stone. Never getting to say goodbye.” She rolled on her back and stared and the ceiling. “My father and I were very close. Daddy’s girl was an understatement. When he was gone, I didn’t feel like anyone could make me feel as safe as he did.”

Where was this going? Any proffered sentiment he tried would seem underwhelming.

“My grandfather said there was a man watching over me. That the nurses told him a police officer would come and visit me early in the morning every day.”

“I was waiting for a witness to wake up. I had a serial killer on the loose.”

“He also said there was a police officer matching the description the nurses gave him at my parents’ funeral, but they never spoke.”

“I was there in hopes of finding the killer—to see if he liked to watch the fallout of what he had done.”

“And that this policeman helped with my physical therapy so my grandfather wouldn’t have to pay for extra sessions.”

What could Eli say to that? She was exposing his interest in her in quite a methodical manner. She could put the best interrogators to shame with her skill in questioning.

She brushed more tears from her eyes. “That man... That was you...” She looked at him, but he turned away.

He wasn’t strong enough to take it.

“You’ve made me feel like it’s possible for another man to make me feel safe. It was a true gift and I just wanted you to hear it from me, since...evidently...we can’t be together.”

He wanted to convince her otherwise—his mind screamed at him to talk her away from this cliff she was about to go over. She was walling herself off from him—that was what this was. His professional training demanded he stay silent. This was better for them both in the end. He could complete his professional duties emotionally unattached and keep her alive.

That was what was most important.

TEN

T
he night provided the rest Eli needed. He couldn’t believe how much better he felt. There was the muscle soreness, bumps and scrapes induced by the car wreck, but his breathing was unencumbered and he’d successfully been weaned off the oxygen. Even the coughing was infrequent.

Julia woke him once in the night that he remembered, though he knew she checked on him frequently. She listened to his chest again and he kept his hands firmly underneath the covers. After that, she removed the oxygen from his nose and sat next to his side for a good twenty minutes until she seemed satisfied that his oxygen level would stay normal.

They’d exchanged only the necessary words. It frustrated Eli that she was so business-as-necessary, but he was responsible for this distance between them. Now he had to live with it—even if it was the last thing he wanted to do. It was the necessary thing.

After Laura served them a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls, bacon and coffee, Eli felt as if running a marathon was within reach. A couple of ibuprofen and he would be good to go.

No events overnight. Even Julia gave the appearance of feeling rested, though he guessed from the slowness of her movements that the same aches and pains bothered her.

Time to catch this killer.

The car was quiet as they drove out of the mountains. Julia seemed enraptured by the scenery. Will dozed in the backseat. Once they got back into the Denver metro area, Eli dropped Will off and swung by his place for a fresh business suit. Julia fell asleep on his couch as he showered, evidently more exhausted from nursing him overnight than she let on.

Once changed, he searched through his dusty books until he found what he was looking for. He pulled it from the cardboard box and walked into his living room, where Julia was now awake and watching television.

He offered her the Bible. “I know it’s not an adequate replacement for the one you lost—I mean you lost a lot of personal things in the river, but it’s new and I know the person who gave it to me would want you to have it.”

Julia reached up with tentative fingers and took it from him. She peeled open the black leather cover and read the inscription. “For the man who watched over Julia. Know that there is one who watches over you. Hank Galloway.” Julia inhaled swiftly. “My grandfather. He gave this to you?”

Eli cleared his throat. “The nursing staff sent it to the police department with a note. They said Hank waited for a few days around the clock at the rehab center hoping to catch me, but I never returned.”

“Why didn’t you come back?”

He swallowed hard. The truth—once it was clear that she was healed from her brain injury, he’d wanted to get to know her better and his initial goal in helping her recover from her injuries to aid him in catching a killer had morphed into something more, but Eli knew personal involvement with Julia could threaten the case and they had nabbed their killer. He had run out of excuses to visit her and he wouldn’t risk letting this criminal go free because a jury questioned whether or not his involvement with the only surviving victim clouded his investigation. Best to stay away.

“Your case was solved and your testimony...”

“Wouldn’t have been helpful with my brain damage?” Bitterness etched her voice.

She closed the cover and tapped her fingers on the surface. Something brewed—something she wanted to say. Her dark eyes held his. “Thank you. This means a lot to me.”

Eli picked up his keys. “Let’s get moving. Time for you to meet Quentin.”

The distance to the marshals’ office was short compared to the drive they’d already covered. As Eli roved through the cubicles, a few agents playfully elbowed him in the gut.

“Cayne, what—you have to fake your own death to get a kiss from a beautiful girl?”

“It’s the only way a good-looking girl
would
kiss him.”

A surge of heat flushed Eli’s face, and Julia looked as if she wanted to crawl under a rock.

Eli waved them off. “At least I
can
get someone to save my life. You two, on the other hand, better hope for some blind rescuers if looks come into play.”

They laughed, and Eli motioned Julia forward. He ushered her into Quentin’s office and pulled out a chair for her.

“Eli.” Quentin reached out. “Good to see you’re in one piece.”

Ben rapped on the door and entered the office, as well.

Ben shook Eli’s hand. “Seriously, you look like a new man. Who would have guessed you could look so good when you were a dead, drowned rat just yesterday?”

Eli shrugged. “I have Julia and Dr. Solan to thank. They brought me back to good health. Now that we have our heads above water, we need to get control of this case. What do you have?”

“First things first,” Quentin said, offering his hand to Julia. “Julia, I’m Quentin Archer. I don’t know where Eli’s manners are—I thought I taught him better than that.”

She smiled and shook his hand briefly. “Julia Galloway—nice to meet you.”

Quentin straightened and opened the top drawer of his desk. “These are for you. New credentials and a service weapon. Don’t lose them. Accounting is angry enough about the car.”

Eli pulled them toward him. He felt more like himself. Previously, stripped of everything, but now physically healed and with all the accoutrements of his profession back in his hands. He holstered the weapon and felt whole.

Quentin settled behind his desk. “Let’s move forward. Since the safe houses seem to not be working out for us, I’ve decided to let Julia stay in her own home. We’ll provide her two agents overnight to make sure nothing untoward happens again. During the day—” he nodded to Eli “—she’ll be in your company until we sort out the details of the hit file.”

“Sir, Will mentioned that you had some new information,” Eli said.

“Yes. FBI Forensics was able to match the set of prints lifted from the hit package.” Quentin rustled through some papers on his desk. “Ryder Dymond. He’s got a litany of charges for breaking and entering, shoplifting and selling illegal drugs, but nothing violent.”

Ben smirked. “Why do these criminal lowlifes always have weird names?”

Quentin shrugged. “We’ve had a team casing his house since yesterday. No male presence. A woman and a child live there. The house is rented by Ryder and Harper Dymond, so we’re assuming she’s his wife. Mr. Dymond hasn’t showed his face around the premises. The wife may know something, but we haven’t interviewed her yet.”

Eli thrust his hands in his pockets. “Sir, I’d like to be more actively involved in investigating this case. If it’s true that Evelyn Roush’s demise was possibly by the hand of some unidentified partner of the Hangman, then I think we need to go back. Look at all the victims in his series again. Did you get me approval from the Justice Department to interview Heller?”

“Still waiting to hear back,” Quentin said. “I don’t see anything wrong with reexamining the original case, but you’ll need the cooperation of Aurora police.”

“Don’t worry—I’ve got connections there. Also, I’d like to interview Ryder’s wife,” Eli said.

Quentin smoothed his hands together. “Yes, I think it’s a good time to see if we can shake something out of her. I don’t think Mr. Dymond will be showing his face there any time soon. The wife seems pretty innocuous.”

“It’s settled, then.” Eli turned to Ben. “Can you take Julia back to her house and hang with her until the night crew gets there?”

“I want to go with you,” Julia said. She’d been so quiet—Eli had forgotten to try and shield her from the conversation.

Quentin placed his elbows on his desk. “Julia, you’re a protected witness, and we need to do a better job of ensuring your safety. It’s outside just about every protocol I can think of to have you go with Eli. Your home is the safest place for you to be.”

“Except he knows where I live,” Julia pressed.

“I understand, but with our presence nothing will happen to you there,” Quentin assured her.

“But you can’t guarantee that—you haven’t been able to yet.”

“Julia—” Quentin started.

“I can help. I think...no, I know that I’m remembering things.”

Eli nearly fell over. “What?”

“I’m getting flashes. I think they’re memories.”

“Why didn’t you say—”

Julia cut him off with a quick glance.

Eli took a deep breath in and held it. It was his fault. When had he given her the opportunity to share this? Truth was last night he’d cut her off at the knees.

“What have you remembered?” Quentin asked.

“Pieces from that day. Getting ready for work. Going to the door. Opening it...” Julia’s voice trailed. Her head bent down.

Open. That was the key word. If she willingly approached the door then...

“Did you recognize your attacker?” Eli asked.

“What I think is that I willingly let the person in. The first time I remembered something, he was inside my house, but I didn’t know how he got there. I haven’t been able to see the person—he’s all fuzzy. The next time, I remembered hearing the person call my name and unlocking the door. It ends there.”

“Julia, that doesn’t help us,” Ben said. “Quentin’s right. It’s safer for you to be secured. There are too many other variables when you’re out and about.”

“You’re wrong.” Julia glared at Eli. “Being around people who are part of the case can trigger more of these memories. I don’t think it’s outside the realm of possibilities that I could identify the man who attacked me. I honestly don’t think it was Dr. Heller.”

Ben blew his hair from his eyes. “Quentin,” he implored. “We absolutely cannot let her do this. Do you know how foolish we look? First, the carbon monoxide poisoning and then she nearly drowns in a river. If you allow this, it’s asking for more trouble.”

A torrent of thoughts rushed through Eli’s mind. What he knew was he felt more in control of the situation when they were together. Perhaps she was right. Julia could be the linchpin that could break the case wide-open.

“I’m okay with it,” Eli said. “It’s not a perfect scenario, but Julia’s right. She’s been attacked at her house. Keeping her there twenty-four-seven could just make her an easier target. If she’s roving with us, it makes it more difficult to pin her down.”

Quentin drummed his fingers. “I’m willing to go along with it but, Eli, if this goes south in any fashion, then your job and my job are both on the line. We’re off standard operating procedure. That would be cause enough for termination. Any more near misses and you can kiss your career in law enforcement goodbye.”

“Understood, sir.”

Ben threw his hands up. “I can’t believe the two of you. No wonder the U.S. Marshals’ office is such a disaster. Your agents are leaving because you’re asking them to risk their lives unnecessarily. Quentin, I’m happy to protect Julia while she’s in a secure environment, but this is too risky. I don’t want to go on this interview. It’s like you’re delivering her right to a potential assassin. It’s insanity.”

Quentin stood. “Fine, Ben. We’ll use your assets back at her house. I want everything rechecked. Surveillance equipment. New locks. You and Jace can head that up today. Be sure it’s ready by the time Julia is home tonight. Are we good on that?”

“Yes, sir. Absolutely.”

Eli rustled his hand through his hair. What little he knew of Ben, it surprised him how adamant he was on this issue. Ben didn’t seem like the type to play completely by the book. As an agent—he understood Ben’s concerns about the possible loss of his job, but it was just an interview with a woman and her child.

Could these two people be another key in unlocking Julia’s memory?

* * *

The drive to Ryder Dymond’s abode had been quiet...unnervingly quiet for Julia’s taste. What did they talk about now? How could they get through these days together...maybe even weeks before ferreting this plot out?

All this tense silence was going to drive Julia crazy.

Eli parked the car on the street. The surveillance team didn’t have any new information. The neighborhood was 1980s tract housing. Cookie-cutter homes differentiated only by their faded paint color.

Eli removed his seat belt. “Just stay a couple of steps behind me.” He adjusted the mic at his wrist. “If there’s trouble, the team is just down the block. You get somewhere safe, and I’ll worry about myself.”

She did as instructed. Eli rapped on the door and a woman dressed in a dirty floral housecoat came to the screen door. Her hair was a knotted mass of tangles pulled up in a messy bun. A boy, whom Julia figured to be about eight years old, hovered next to her—his brown eyes matched his mother’s, though his hair was lighter in color.

“Harper Dymond?” Eli asked.

“Yes?”

Julia could feel the woman’s trepidation as if her heartbeat broadcast wirelessly directly to Julia’s. It matched what she’d felt just days ago.

“I’m U.S. Marshal Eli Cayne.” He held up his credentials for her to study. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

Surprisingly, she opened the door. Eli stepped inside and then motioned Julia to follow. Toys cluttered the front living room, and it seemed as if the young boy had the run of the house.

The screen door slammed behind Julia, and each muscle in her body tensed—the sound too similar to the gunshot she’d nearly suffered.

“Thanks for being open to a few questions. This is Julia Galloway—she’s...”

“I recognize you from the news coverage from the Hangman’s trial,” Harper said, shaking Julia’s hand with the strength of a timid mouse.

Julia couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something about this woman—as if perhaps they’d crossed paths but were never formally introduced. The grocery store? Had she brought her son to the ER for a visit?

“Do you mind if we sit?” Eli asked.

Harper removed the boy’s toys from the furniture and motioned for them to sit on a threadbare love seat. Eli perched on the edge, whereas Julia nestled herself in the corner—the hairs on her neck prickled at having to sit right in front of the picture window.

The boy jumped backward onto the couch and seated himself between Julia and Eli. “I’m Miles!”

Julia awkwardly reached out her hand and he shook it with gusto. “It’s nice to meet you, Miles. My name’s Julia.”