Including the fact that he’d shared such personal information with her. It was not like his life story was a secret. But...

  What was he missing?

  He debated further conversation against accepting the silence she was currently offering. He couldn’t get the job done without answers.

  “Do you know what happened to your parents’ bodies?” She hadn’t answered. He couldn’t follow up on proving or disproving what had happened to them if he had no starting place.

  “They were cremated.” She glanced his way, and then back out the front windshield, her hands resting in her lap. Right there where her bold, bright, short skirt had ridden up a bit farther exposing more of the slim, yet nicely curved expanse of thigh, as she’d sat down. He was doing his best not to notice.

  “They’d died on impact from the car crash,” she elaborated. “From what my aunt said there was so much damage, an open casket funeral for my mom was out of the question. She had their ashes put together in one urn. It’s in a crypt with my grandparents, and now Aunt Bonnie.”

  Convenient, there being no way to investigate the evidence. Or at least, with an unlikely chance that bone or teeth fragments large enough to get DNA had survived the crematory.

  “Do you know who did the cremations? What mortuary she used?”

  She shook her head. While he thought about the futility of trying to find thirty-year-old bank or payment records to help corroborate her story.

  Still, he could check locally. And then send a query down to Phoenix. Just in case.

  “And the accident? You don’t know any other details at all? What caused the crash? What were they driving? How many cars were involved? Were there any other injuries?”

  Again, she shook her head. “If I did I don’t remember it. I honestly don’t think Aunt Bonnie knew the details of the crash. She was too busy rearranging her life to become an instant single parent to a three year old, and grieving for the sister she’d just lost. My grandmother raised both of them alone after my grandfather was killed in Vietnam and she passed away the year before my mom met my dad.”

  “How did your parents meet?”

  He needed something to go on. Anything.

  “She was working as a traveling nurse, supposedly just for a year before moving back to New Orleans to settle down. She was doing stints mostly on the reservations, and lived in Evergreen. My dad was a miner. Apparently she had car trouble and he stopped to help her...”

  Evergreen citizens were known to help out. Living remotely as they did, it was kind of important to know there were those you could rely upon.

  “I had the impression from what you said earlier that your aunt didn’t like your dad...”

  “I think it’s more that she didn’t know him. I know she didn’t like that he refused to leave Arizona which was why my mom never moved back home. According to my aunt, my mom loved Arizona, but hadn’t ever intended to settle in such an out-of-way place. She was lonely for home, and for city amenities. Living in the mountains, mining...it was all so dangerous...”

  It could be.

  Living there could also be heaven on earth.

  “Yet they died of a car accident—an occurrence much more prevalent in the big city.”

  He heard the hint of defensiveness in his tone. Probably because he’d just been thinking about his mother, who’d put city life over the love of her husband and child.

  And, perhaps, his father had put life in Evergreen over her.

  Lord knew, the old man had been a true Arizonan—fiercely independent—and he’d been adamant about having his dictates adhered to. Life with Shephard Redmond had not been easy.

  Nor had it contained an ounce of nurturing that Jackson could remember.

  But he’d loved and faithfully served Evergreen until his last breath.

  Jackson took a deep breath. His father had believed in a more vigilante justice system...thinking he could adhere to or ignore laws as befit the situation...but he’d filled Jackson with a deep and abiding purpose—to serve and protect the people of Evergreen, Arizona. Jackson loved the town. Keeping her people safe was his legacy as well as his father’s.

  And he had a visitor who was rattling his door with her bad luck and unanswered questions.

  Filling his day with tension, frustration, unwanted desire and a ridiculous sense that if he wasn’t careful, he could lose control of everything he held dear.

  He couldn’t let that happen.

  Chapter 4

  “Why are you really here?”

  It was the third time he’d asked the question and this time it clearly didn’t come lightly. Suddenly feeling like a criminal, sitting in his cruiser, Aimee stared out at the seemingly unending expanse of desert landscape with gorgeous mountain peaks. They’d made it to highway 40 and would travel the mostly straight uninhabited patch all the way to Flagstaff—a city that was a quarter of the size of New Orleans.

  No call me Jackson, or shared birth histories present at the moment.

  “To find answers.”

  “You know there was a car accident somewhere, you now have proof you were born here, you’ve got your parents remains, what more do you want?”

  The question was fair. More than fair.

  She could see, from his point of view, how she’d disrupted his day for seemingly no good reason.

  “I want to know why my aunt had that address in her safe deposit box.” But that wasn’t all of it. Or even a big part of it. The address had only been a stepping stone.

  Something to get her there.

  She was afraid if she told him the rest, he’d write her off as a woman who needed to get herself under control, and possibly suggest that she vacation elsewhere.

  As badly as she wanted to go home, she didn’t want to leave Evergreen.

  “I need to find the parts of myself that are missing,” she said aloud, not really weighing her comments as much as giving in to a need to have someone she could trust to talk to.

  Maybe it was him. Maybe it wasn’t.

  He was the only candidate who’d shown up.

  “Ever since my aunt died... I’ve been having these dreams...okay, nightmares. I can’t seem to get a good night’s rest. At first, I thought it was because of the shock and horror of losing her so unexpectedly...she drowned diving from the same boat she’d dived from a hundred times...who does that as an adult? She slipped on the step, hit her head and didn’t come back up...”

  “I’m so sorry...” He glanced her way several times, his gaze always quickly returning to the road. She felt...touched by compassion. And shook her head.

  All of the sincere and heartfelt condolences she’d received in the past month...they were all still just sitting together on the edge of her consciousness, not really touching her.

  And a simple I’m sorry from a complete stranger reaches inside her?

  “...but the dreams...” she continued as though he hadn’t interrupted “...they don’t have anything to do with my aunt. They’re all the same. I wake up crying...with a pain so deep sometimes I can’t breathe at first...”

  The words sounded even worse out loud than they did when she talked to herself. Like she needed to get over herself and move on.

  Everyone had bad dreams.

  You shake them off.

  Except that no matter how hard she shook, they wouldn’t let go.

  “And these dreams...they have something to do with Evergreen?”

  The man was intuitive. Or just a damned good investigator who was paying attention. She’d settle for either.

  “I feel like they do. I’ve been trying to figure them out, racking my brain to remember anything that might be associated to them. And when I found that address in the lockbox...something clicked. Seriously... I was compelled to come here. So, maybe I’m half nuts... I don’t know...”

  “Tell me about the dream.”

  He sounded serious to her. Like he was still listening with an ear to figuring things out—not just humoring her.

  “There’s not much to tell. It’s more like feelings. I’m not really in the dreams...or I haven’t been,” she amended, shuddering as she remembered that morning in the field. “There’s this guy...there’s this sense that he’s all grown up, but he’s always got dirt on him that he’s trying to clean off. Sometimes I reach out a hand to help, but I can’t. He rubs at himself but he can’t get it off, either. I can’t ever remember clothes, or surroundings...just this sense that the dirt won’t leave. And always, every single time, he’s crying. And that hurts so bad. When I wake up it’s like I’m feeling his pain. I’m the one crying. So am I somehow the guy who seems all grown up? Yet still a kid who can’t get dirt off? Have I somehow transposed myself into something else because of something I knew in my past?”

  When she first fell silent, she tensed all over. Afraid she’d made a terrible mistake in saying anything at all. Afraid, period.

  Feeling trapped, she focused on the dry ground whizzing past, realizing there was very little vegetation she could identify.

  Which didn’t help.

  “Are you young in the dreams?”

  She glanced his way at the question, and her gaze lingered, studying him.

  Determining he might be taking her at face value, assessing her predicament as something valid, she said, “That’s just it—I don’t know...when I’m trying to get his dirt off I never see me. Never feel me. Just this sense that I keep trying, but can’t do it. All I ever see is him...” She paused. Wanted to end there for the time being. But didn’t feel right doing so.

  “Until this morning,” she added, knowing she had to give him everything if she wanted his help.

  “You had another dream today? When you took your nap?”

  She shook her head. “Before that.” A long deep breath didn’t release any of her tension. “And it wasn’t a dream. It was more like a waking vision...” No that wasn’t right. “Like a flash of memory so strong it felt real in the moment.”

  “You’re going to tell me you had it out at the Evergreen estate, aren’t you?”

  She stared at him. Not sure if he was on her side or not. Not even sure what her side was. “I didn’t recognize anything when I got there,” she told him. “But then I saw this tree...that’s why I trespassed...the tree pulled at me...and then for a second there I was a little girl, so small my fingers couldn’t reach around the ropes holding up a swing. The big boy was behind me, pushing me. I couldn’t see him this time, but I could hear him. And then there was this other voice. Male. Angry. Telling the boy he was going to hurt me. Crying, the boy said he would never hurt me...” She shook her head, feeling it all freshly again, as she had that morning. Shivering.

  “What happened next?”

  “Nothing.” How could that be? If she was remembering something how could it be so clear, and then just vanish? “Except fear. Unlike anything I’ve consciously felt in my life. It’s just like with the dreams, I’m left with a sense of fear that lingers throughout the day...”

  Which was one reason she couldn’t just keep living with them. She needed her joy back. At least some of it. For a few minutes now and then.

  “Of course, this morning, the fear was probably motivated as much by the bullets flying by me as any memory, real or imagined.” She tried to lighten her moment.

  “Let’s hope the bullet gives us something that can help clear that piece up at least,” he said, leaving her bereft. As though he’d been humoring her after all.

  “How do you see that happening?”

  “Best-case scenario there will be prints on it. Someone had to load it, and even if there’s no criminal activity connected to it, chances are the bullet will tell us who touched it.”

  “If you have prints on file.”

  “And if I don’t, just spreading the word that I have them can trigger more information coming forth than you’d think.”

  He didn’t expound on the statement. She let it go, wanting to hang on to the hope he’d just given her that at least she wouldn’t have to be fearing for her life while she was in town. Not that she really had been.

  She’d just learned not to trespass on other people’s property.

  And he needed to clear a sheriff’s report concerning a bullet in a rental car.

  “And otherwise? You think I’m nuts, don’t you?”

  “Actually, no, I don’t.” He slowed as traffic picked up. Hard to believe they were nearing Flagstaff so soon. The journey between the two towns that morning had seemed unending. “I think if I was in your position, I’d need to investigate, just as you’re doing. I’m not good with unanswered questions lingering around me.”

  She’d never had any particular bent toward finding answers to anything. Until the dreams...

  Mostly she’d gone through life taking things as they came...never really finding a deep enough sense of need to move away from what she had. The shop held her happily captive. As did her own art—floral originals made from dried blooms and twigs. And while she’d always pictured herself with a husband and kids, she’d never met anyone who awakened her enough to commit to something lasting.

  “Do you have any pictures of your parents? I can show them around, see if anyone recognizes them...”

  Holding up her phone, she said, “You want me to text them to the number you used to call me this afternoon?” And after he nodded, she said, “I only have one of my dad. It’s all my aunt had. I have a ton of Mom, from when she was younger, but will send the one my aunt took when Mom and I came to visit. It’s the most recent.”

  His phone binged a few seconds after she’d sent the text. He didn’t look at it, but then, she couldn’t blame his lack of immediacy. He was driving.

  “I’ll do everything I can to help you find your answers...”

  She glanced at him, caught his gaze and nodded.

  But wasn’t sure he hadn’t just been humoring her all along.

  * * *

  As he entered the outer edges of Flagstaff, the only town he’d ever lived in besides Evergreen—having spent four years getting his criminal justice degree there—Jackson had a lingering concern pushing at him. Boyd Evergreen. He hadn’t yet called the older man to alert him to the stray bullet fired on his land that morning. He’d been avoiding bothering Boyd until he had more information to give him.

  Boyd had enough on his plate at the moment.

  Had had as long as Jackson had known the man.

  Clearly, their summer visitor, Ms. Aimee Barker, was going to be an ongoing situation for a bit, too.

  Boyd would be greatly served if Jackson could get her away from his land and onto whatever property was the potential source for her dreams and possible memories.

  He didn’t know that there was anything for her to find. But he sensed that there could be.

  Just as he’d had enough discomfort over the double bad luck she’d had since arriving that morning—the bullets and the deadly snake on her doorstep—he hadn’t wanted to leave her alone in town until he had some time to process.

  And now he had to find out just how seriously she was ready to pursue her answers.

  “A couple of years ago, I worked with a company that provides experts in just about every field...from forensics and finances to child development...they’re nationally known...” As he talked, the idea that had just occurred to him grew in scope. “They recently provided a high profile lawyer to help with a custody case involving wealthy rescue dogs, and one of their experts worked with displaced children in the one of the hardest hit storm areas last year...”

  Stopped at a light, he glanced at Aimee, wishing he knew her better. Knew if she’d be open to what he was about to suggest. Because he was pretty certain he was on the right path to help her.

  “One of the partners of the firm is an expert witness psychiatrist. Her name is Dr. Kelly Chase. I’ve met her a time or two. I think she might be able to help you, if you’d be open to some sessions with her. And if she’s available. The firm, Sierra’s Web, is based in Phoenix, though the experts live all over the country...” He kept talking to prevent an immediate no from the woman who, while she appeared to be listening to him, was giving no indication as to her reaction to anything he was saying.

  “The Evergreen Sheriff’s Office might pay for an initial consultation, based on the fact that we have no record of your parents’ deaths, but proof that you were born here, and based also on evidence of your aunt’s testimony to you, and the address you found in her safe deposit box.”

  The light turned green. He pushed the gas slowly. They were five minutes from the lab.

  “I saw Kelly do something she called a cognitive interview with a teenager who’d been targeted for trafficking but got away, and the girl was able to remember key details that ultimately brought down the ring.”

  Evergreen was a safe town. The mountains surrounding them weren’t always so, as people—criminals preying on teenagers—could disappear in them and never be found.

  “You’re willing to pay to try to find out what happened?” she asked.

  Jackson pulled into the lab’s small parking lot. Turned off the engine, and turned toward the unusual woman in her bright, colorful clothes.

  “Are you willing to do the interview?” He wanted the answer before he went any further. Before they walked into that lab.

  He wanted to know they had a plan—a potential way to proceed with an investigation—before he took her back to Evergreen.

  She was staring out the front windshield and he studied her for a long moment. Could hardly believe the way she’d so drastically changed the course of his day.

  Didn’t like not being in control...having solid leads to investigate...knowing what path to take. He was the sheriff. The one paid to determine who did what and why.