Turning the corner she saw the commercial utility door at the end, clearly marked Exit Only. And since no one could enter through it, there was no one manning it. All she had to do was push the bar on the door and she’d be...

  Breaking Jackson’s trust. Such a stupid thing to think about at that moment, but walking out that door didn’t feel right. Not without him aware. She had half an hour to get herself free and outside undetected. Easily enough time for Jackson to arrange for someone to be outside, watching her back.

  Unless he refused to let her go at all.

  She’d go anyway.

  He’d follow behind her and her contact would quietly slip away. She’d never know who it was or what they knew about her parents.

  She had to go.

  Jackson could trace the phone. Unless it was a burner. Chances were, it was. The clandestine meeting. A family at risk.

  She’d gotten so much from Alonzo that morning. A piece of her past that felt vital to her. Something she’d never have had if he hadn’t come forward. And now a second person wanted to share with her. How could she not go?

  Why was she hesitating?

  A headache was coming on and Aimee knew that she had to get out that door or risk someone coming looking for her.

  She had to go.

  But not without telling Jackson, first. Time was ticking. Five of her minutes were gone. Turning, she made her way quickly to the sheriff’s private office, one hallway over. His door open, he was sitting at his desk, focused on a monitor in front of him. She gave a light rap, stepped in and shut the door behind her. Put her phone, text message on the screen, in front of him.

  He read. Stood. Picked up his office phone. Demanded an immediate trace on the number. Dropped the phone back in its cradle and came around the desk.

  “You did the right thing, coming to me. I’ll get people out there, combing the area...”

  “Wait, no.” She stood in front of him. “I’m going, Jackson. I can’t not go. And I have to go alone. I just...maybe you’d want people in the area, is all...”

  “I can’t stop you from going outside,” he said, his tone different than anything she’d heard before. Implacable. “But there’s no way in hell I’m sending you out there alone.”

  She felt frustrated, mostly with herself for letting her feelings for him get in the way of what she’d known she should do—like she couldn’t think on her own anymore. “You read the message! You or anyone else goes out there with me, we’re never going to know who this is or what they know...”

  “Assuming this is anyone who knows anything.” His tone didn’t change. He wasn’t getting all het up like she was. If anything, he was the most calm she’d ever seen him.

  “I’m guessing you gave Alonzo your number.” His next statement brought her up short.

  “Yeah.”

  “And he’s in the area.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He wanted you to leave alone with him.”

  So he thought Alonzo had more to tell her. All the more reason for her to get out there and find out what it was.

  “Did it occur to you that he could have been lying in there, Aimee? That maybe he was at that game the night he described? That he was the one who lost and was robbed of a chance to get his winnings back?”

  No. It hadn’t. She didn’t believe it. But she wasn’t sure he was wrong, either. In the space of time it took her to have the thought, he was one the phone, ordering a sweep of the area around the back door of the station, paying close attention to the dumpster and anywhere else something could be hidden.

  Something? As in...a detonation device?

  Blood draining from her face, she stood straight, facing him, wondering if he’d gone off the deep end. Or if she had.

  They were in a remote, relatively crime-free mountain town, not some adrenaline-pumping crime show. She might have said as much to Jackson, but he was too busy running an emergency sweep of the station, handing out orders more quickly than she could keep up with them. She started to leave the room, to give him his privacy and space to work, but he glanced at her and shook his head.

  Because she respected him, because she’d agreed to allow him to protect her, because she didn’t think it wise to disobey a direct order from the sheriff, she remained standing a couple of feet from the door.

  And was still standing there when an officer, wearing protective gear, came to the door ten minutes later. “We got it, Sheriff. Simple explosive. Wouldn’t have done much damage, except to the person walking out that door...”

  Her knees went weak. Her mind numb.

  Had she opened the door...

  But she hadn’t.

  Something had told her to come to Jackson.

  She was fine.

  And someone absolutely wanted her dead.

  Aimee didn’t know how she remained standing, seemingly calm and capable, while Jackson finished talking with his officer. Wasn’t even sure what he’d last said as he closed the door behind the man. What she did know was that when he walked toward her, she needed to feel him up against her. Needed him to be real.

  Needed to feel something good. Something that made sense. Something that could blot the horror her life had become. Putting her arms around his neck, she pressed her shaking body to his and held on.

  Everything else be damned.

  * * *

  From the second she’d thrown her arms around him, Jackson had had one goal—to get Aimee Barker out of Evergreen as soon as possible. First and foremost, to keep her alive. And a close second after that, so he wouldn’t beg her to stay.

  Even in the midst of all that was going on—the explosive to send to Forensics in Flagstaff, the investigation branching out in various fingers, the fact that they were in his office—as soon as he’d felt her body touch his, his penis had sprung to full and complete attention.

  He wanted the woman like none other. With more than just passion.

  In a way he neither recognized nor understood.

  He didn’t like what he couldn’t understand. And he most certainly didn’t like the idea of being outdoors with her that afternoon.

  It wasn’t smart. Wasn’t safe. And Kelly felt, after a talk with Aimee over lunch, that taking her out to a property like Boyd Evergreen’s, deserted, but open with desert grass and some trees, was, at that point, their best hope for encouraging Aimee’s psyche to let go of whatever it was holding on to. Kelly’s plan included throwing a rope over a branch, making a swing like the one in Aimee’s vision, for Aimee to sit in for a cognitive interview. There were likely other things that would be familiar to her—like the smell of cooking shrimp—but they didn’t know what they were. She had a longing to be outside. Had had it since before coming to town. Kelly felt strongly that they had to honor that.

  To listen to Aimee’s instincts.

  He and Kelly didn’t speak about the fact that Aimee didn’t believe her parents were murder-suicide victims, in spite of his evidence—except to acknowledge that his evidence was strong enough to convince him they were on the right path. And a brief mention that Aimee felt strongly that he was wrong.

  Tense as hell, he stood just off to the right of the tree they’d chosen on some property owned by one of his officers. The perimeter of which was as easily managed and guarded as any that had been at their disposal on quick notice and with as little need for explanation as possible.

  Though it was just him, Kelly and Aimee in sight, six armed men and women were hidden and keeping them and their areas under surveillance, while Leon, on radio, was watching from the air—as high up as he could get in the tallest tree he could find to climb.

  Perhaps it was overkill. Jackson didn’t much care. He wasn’t going to lose a summer visitor that day.

  Aimee had been gently swinging for ten minutes or so, while Kelly tried to take her back to the first day she’d come to town, to the tree she’d seen, the memory she’d had. As far as Jackson could tell, to no avail. While each second they were out there was another tick on his nerves.

  It was almost a relief when Kelly motioned to him. He’d rather get the rope down and get out of there with nothing, than hang around out in the open with a killer on the loose.

  Aimee was still sitting on the rope, swinging gently. As he got closer he noticed that, not only were her eyes closed, but her fingers were white where they were gripping the rope.

  “Get behind her,” Kelly said softly, leaning in to speak at his shoulder. “Start pushing her, gently at first, but when I give the sign, push her as high as you safely can.”

  He wanted them out of there, but touching Aimee...that calmed him, some. Being close enough to grab her off the rope and shield her with his body if need be helped, too. He’d only pushed her twice when Kelly gave the signal and with a full step into the movement, he sent her sailing up until her face was even with the branches that were holding her. Even with the sky.

  “Open your eyes,” Kelly said, just before Aimee peaked the second time. Watching Kelly for direction, he continued to push, watching Aimee’s sassy short hair standing upright in the wind, settling down, then standing up again.

  Maybe, once they got through this, she’d have an extra day before she left and they could drive out to the state park. He’d love to push her on a swing for real. And then, moving in front of it, slow it down, and lean in to kiss her with the air that moved her hair still touching her skin...

  Movement to the left caught his peripheral vision. His focus, instant and 100 percent, caught the hummingbird hovering several yards away, feeding at a wild honeysuckle. And a reminder to keep his mind fully on his surroundings.

  “Stop.” It was the first word Aimee had said since he’d approached. And she was brooking no argument. Taking hold of both sides of the rope, slightly above her hands, ready to catch her if she lost balance, he brought the makeshift swing to a complete stop. Stood there a moment longer in case she needed to rest back against him.

  He’d been far enough away not to overhear the conversation between Aimee and Kelly for the majority of their time out there. In light of their differing opinions on the cause of her parents’ deaths, he hadn’t wanted his presence to make Aimee defensive, or to shut her down in any way.

  He had no idea what had transpired. What kind of state she might be in.

  What she had or had not remembered.

  She sat a minute, but didn’t lean on him. Still, he held the rope until she vacated the swing and Kelly nodded toward the car. And then, with an arm up waving Officer Michaels in to retrieve the rope off his tree, he quickly ushered Kelly and Aimee back to his SUV.

  He was turning around in the hard desert dirt, ready to gun it out of there and to the road when Aimee said, “I saw his face.” She and Kelly were both in the back, and he glanced in the rearview mirror, catching both of their expressions. Kelly intent, and Aimee clearly agitated.

  “Whose face?” He had to ask.

  “The boy man in my dreams.”

  “We’ve been going over and over that memory she had the first day she got here, and trying to tie it to the nightmares,” Kelly said, a doctor discussing a patient.

  “You think you could describe it to a sketch artist?” he asked Aimee. They’d have to head to Flagstaff for that, but then he’d be there to hear about the explosive device that was already being delivered to the lab there.

  And he could get Aimee out of town, too.

  “Yeah,” she said. “But I’d rather do what we kind of talked about earlier, and look at high school yearbook pictures while it’s still fresh in my mind. With a sketch artist, I don’t know...”

  “I agree with her,” Kelly said. “She should look at the yearbooks.”

  And so she would. One quick call and he had four years of the Evergreen Chronicle—the name of his high school yearbook—being delivered to his house.

  What this boy, her nightmare, had to do with her being in danger, he didn’t know. Had pretty much figured the nameless boy was a stand-in for a part of her father she wanted to remember—that the harsh voice was the father she’d seen in the end. The violent man. But if she’d remembered a face...he had to know whose face it was. The son of a gambler?

  Or the babysitter she’d been left with that final day?

  Jackson was a man who made decisions based on facts. Following protocol. And a good cop followed every lead, whether his instincts told him it was necessary or not.

  He was also a guy who needed a woman to find the peace she was seeking, even if it took her away from him.

  Chapter 19

  “That’s him.” The second Aimee saw the photo, she knew. Without doubt. “He looked different to me,” she said. “In my memory his expression was different, his face maybe a little heavier, but that’s definitely him. I remember him less...serious looking. More...innocent, maybe. I don’t know, but that’s him.”

  She was talking to Kelly who was sitting next to her on the couch in Jackson’s living room. But as she spoke, he came in from the downstairs office via a small hall off the kitchen.

  “Who is it?”

  Kelly Chase was looking up at him. Aimee intercepted a look she didn’t understand.

  A warning from Kelly to him?

  What kind of warning? That she was off her rocker and had to be humored?

  Or something more serious...

  Looking back at the book, she read the name in line off to the side of the row of photos. Second photo, second name in the list to the left.

  Grayson Evergreen.

  It meant nothing to her three-year-old self. The adult her sat up straight. Rigid.

  Evergreen. The property she’d been trespassing on her first day in town.

  She didn’t want to say the name. Jackson wasn’t going to like it.

  He came up beside the arm of the couch, leaned over to see where she was pointing. “Gray?” he asked, frowning as he shook his head.

  And while she’d meant to worry about his reaction, her mind took another route. “Gay Gay,” she said. Checked herself. And said it again. “Gay Gay.”

  Looking at Kelly, and then up at Jackson, she told them, “That’s what I used to call him. Gay Gay. He’d play with me.” And like a curtain being lifted to show a full stage behind it, she sat there, watching snippets of memories play across her mind’s eye. “He used to play with me,” she repeated.

  She remembered a ball. It was soft and they’d toss it. He’d laughed really loud one time when she’d actually caught it. She remembered him running and telling her to catch him. Remembered running after him, laughing, falling and getting back up to run some more. And the swing. He’d pushed her high and her father had yelled at him.

  He’d taken her across a field to see something. She’d fallen, was starting to roll and then it was straight down. He’d dived after her. Caught her. His hands were dirty.

  And he was crying...

  And then, just like a curtain coming down, the memories stopped. Just stopped with those dirty hands.

  She was looking at Kelly. Didn’t want to look at Jackson. Was only just mentally acknowledging that she’d been talking out loud as she’d watched her little internal theater production.

  “He cried a lot,” she said then, and made herself peek up at Jackson. His gaze sharp, he was watching her. Taking it all in. It was like she could see his mind spinning, trying to make sense of what she was telling him.

  She hoped to God he could, because she sure as hell couldn’t.

  “What that has to do with anything...” Aimee said.

  “We’ve known all along that what you’re trying to remember might have nothing to do with the deaths of your parents.” Kelly’s voice was calm. Reassuring. Kind.

  “But someone’s after me. They think I know something...”

  “That doesn’t mean you do.”

  Jackson sat down beside her, and she scooted over to make more room for him. Wanting him there. And needing her space, too.

  Elbows on his knees, he leaned forward and looked back at her. “Grayson Evergreen was in a car accident a couple of years before your parents were killed. He suffered severe head trauma, and the brain damage was permanent. He has the mind of a seven-year-old boy.”

  “Has?” Kelly asked. “He’s still around?”

  “In an institution,” Jackson said. “I thought since the time of the accident, but I was just a baby when it happened. Could be he was home, around town, until he turned eighteen. That’s about the time his dad died. His older brother, Boyd, is pretty much besotted with him. Visits him diligently, at least three times a week.”

  “So he’s close by?” Kelly again. Aimee just sat there, taking it in. Trying to make sense of what she knew, coupled with what was. Trying to find herself and a world that wasn’t cockeyed.

  “Until recently. A place about thirty miles from here, twenty acres of mountain and desert where he could hike and fish. But the place was damaged in a brush fire recently, and he’s been sent to a facility in Phoenix. That’s where Boyd is now. With Gray in Phoenix. Gray’s not doing well there, and Boyd’s been trying like hell to find another place where he’ll be happy.”

  “When I knew him...it was already after the accident,” Aimee finally found her voice. “That’s why he seemed like a boy man to me. He had the mind of a boy, but the body of an older teenager.”

  At least something made sense.

  But the rest of it?

  Could it be that she’d come to town thinking she’d find out some huge thing about her parents, something dark that had been buried, only to find Grayson Evergreen, her mom laughing over bubbles, and crying over dirty hands?

  Dirty hands.

  “That’s what my mom was crying about,” she said slowly as more realization dawned. “The dirty hands. They were Gay Gay’s. I’m sorry, Grayson’s. From when I fell and he saved me...” She shook her head. “But that doesn’t make sense. Why would my mother be upset that he’d saved me?”