* * *

  Fighting to breathe noiselessly, Emma crouched behind a pickup truck, afraid to run farther and take a chance on being spotted, yet just as afraid to sit still and eventually be discovered.

  One decision was easy. No matter what, she was going to stay as far away from other people as possible. Those who happened to be arriving late for the morning service were having to park farther behind the church so she vowed to avoid that area at all costs.

  Working her way past bumper after bumper, Emma heard someone call her name. Travis! Did he know why she was hiding? Or had he followed simply because she’d run away? If he was unaware of the danger, he might make a wrong move and be injured—or worse.

  What could she do? If she revealed her position to Travis, the thug would surely spot her, too.

  A name to go with the swarthy face popped into her head. “Jet.” The others had called him Jet and had made zooming engine sounds, joking that the nickname fit perfectly because he was always high and fast.

  Would that be enough info for the sheriff to figure out who he really was? Emma wondered. Maybe, maybe not. Right now her biggest problem was not his identity—it was his proximity.

  Another loud “Emma!” echoed across the parking lot. She chanced a peek over the tailgate of a nearby pickup and spotted both Travis and her nemesis. They were staring at each other.

  Travis reached behind his back for his concealed weapon.

  Jet didn’t have to. He already had a gun in his hand.

  Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Both men tensed and aimed.

  Emma screamed, “No!”

  The guns fired almost simultaneously.

  She ducked and dropped to her knees before the echoes faded. There were no words in her mind or heart for prayer or for anything else.

  Debilitating shock wrapped its clinging arms around her, covering her like a thick, heavy blanket and blotting out reality.

  Darkness encroached at the fringes of her vision. Bright, colorful lights flashed behind her closed eyelids.

  Emma thought she heard her name again and willed herself to move, to rise and respond.

  Her legs were made of concrete, her arms of lead. The desire to shout never made it past her constricted throat and closed lips.

  All she could envision was Travis, falling wounded, perhaps mortally. And it was all her fault. Everything was. She had brought this evil to Serenity and was helpless to stop its destruction.

  At that moment of utter despondency and desperation, she imagined that even God had deserted her.

  * * *

  “Over here!” Travis shouted, waving his arms.

  Several off-duty Serenity police officers, regular members of the congregation, had responded to the sounds of shots being fired. Ushers had followed their orders and kept the rest of the worshippers inside and safe.

  The first man relieved Travis of his gun. “You hurt?”

  “No. He missed me. I heard a scream and turned just as he shot at me.”

  “Did you shoot him?”

  “I don’t think so. My aim was too far off.” He raised an arm to point. “The guy ran that direction but I doubt you’ll catch him. I imagine he had a getaway car waiting nearby.”

  “Sounds pretty far-fetched to me,” the officer said.

  “It won’t if you call Sheriff Allgood,” Travis countered. “He knows all about this mess.”

  “Okay. You stay put while I radio Dispatch.”

  “Sorry.” Travis was already moving away. “There’s a woman hiding out here who needs my help. I’m going to find her, with or without you.”

  “No way.” The officer’s palm was resting on the butt of his sidearm.

  Travis didn’t figure the man would shoot a local, at least not without plenty of provocation. “I’ll stay where you can see me if I can. But I’m going.”

  Without a pause he began to jog down the aisles of the lot. There were no painted spaces since the area was not paved, but folks managed to keep their vehicles in fairly straight, orderly rows just the same.

  He was moving so fast he almost passed the small figure huddled next to the rear tire of a full-size truck.

  “Emma?”

  Travis’s heart had already been pounding. When she didn’t move at the sound of his voice it felt as if it was about to beat its way out of his chest. “Emma!”

  He dropped to his knees at her side. “Are you hurt?”

  Still, she didn’t respond. Not even when he gently touched her shoulder. Her head was bowed, her hands pressed tightly over her face. The only discernible movement was the trembling that shook her whole body.

  Grasping her shoulders, Travis gently helped her stand, continuing to provide support when he sensed how unsteady she was.

  With a finger under her chin he lifted her face and looked into her eyes. They were open yet devoid of emotion.

  Pulling her into a tight embrace, he faced the men who were hurrying to his side.

  “Call an ambulance,” Travis ordered, further shaken by the powerless inflection of his own voice.

  He had promised to keep Emma safe and had failed. Now, he wondered if this incident had sent her back into the labyrinth of her confused, battered mind.

  If it had, he wasn’t sure she’d ever emerge again.

  * * *

  White ceiling. Faded greenish walls. Dim light. A scream formed in Emma’s throat, then died there.

  Her eyelids fluttered for a moment before opening all the way. This place was far too clean and antiseptic smelling to be the dingy room where she’d been confined for endless days and nights. So where was she? And why?

  The scene in the church parking lot returned in full detail—except for the aftermath of the shooting.

  “Travis!”

  Someone took her hand. “I’m here, Emma.”

  She could hardly believe her senses. The weary face looking down at her and trying to smile was him, all right, except he looked as if he’d been having a really rough day.

  Gently, cautiously, he stroked her cheek with his free hand. “Welcome back, honey.”

  “Back? Back where?”

  “You’re in a hospital.”

  “Why? What am I doing here?”

  “How much do you remember.”

  “We were at church. I sang a song and...” She inhaled deeply. “Then I saw Jet start down the center aisle and I made a run for it.”

  “Who?”

  “The big guy. The bass player. His nickname is Jet. I remembered that much just before I saw him take a shot at you.” Her gaze traveled over him quickly. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. He missed me.”

  “Did you shoot him?”

  “No. Unfortunately, I missed, too.”

  “Then what happened to him?” She leaned slightly to the side so she could see the rest of the hospital room and the open door. “If he got away...”

  “Harlan’s joined forces with the Serenity police department and they’re making a coordinated search. They’ll get him.”

  “I wish I believed that.” Slumping back against the pillows, she squeezed her eyes shut so tightly they began to hurt.

  “I’ll call the sheriff in a minute and relay the name you remembered. It might help narrow the search.”

  “I thought so, too, until I realized it’s not the guy’s real name.”

  “That doesn’t mean there’s no record of him using an alias,” Travis reminded her. “Every clue helps.”

  “What about Sissy? Has the sheriff come up with any information about her?”

  “Only that Blake has legal custody now that his wife is in prison. Maybe that’s why you were with him in the first place. For the child’s sake. I can see you sacrificing your own well-being to keep your promise to look after her.”

  Emma already felt as if a thousand unruly elves with ball-peen hammers were trying to pound their way out of her skull. She pressed her fingertips to her temples and tried to concentrate through the throbbing pain.

  “I think that’s how it all started,” she said with a scowl. “But that’s not why he locked me up later.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “No,” she said, disgusted. “But it seems right.”

  “Okay. I’m not supposed to use my cell phone in here so I’ll just step outside and fill Harlan or Adelaide in on the new things you remembered.”

  Emma reached to give his warm hand a parting squeeze. He looked back at her, smiling yet sad looking at the same time. His dark eyes gleamed as if his emotions lay very close to the surface.

  She held on long enough to ask, “What’s wrong? Are you keeping something from me?”

  “No.” He was shaking his head and gazing at her as if seeing her for the first time in aeons.

  “Then why do you look upset?”

  “When I found you, hiding in the church parking lot, you were acting even more confused than when you first came home. I was afraid I’d lost you for good.”

  She made no comment as he turned to walk away and made a covert swipe at his cheek to cover his loss of self-control. Only someone who truly cared for her, who had forgiven her, would be that moved about her tenuous state of mind. Dear Travis. What a special man. What a special friend.

  She was certain it was seeing him become the target of Jet’s bullets that had nearly destroyed her this time. Thankfully, despite the recent trauma, she was continuing to heal, to regain her former self. And that meant it was only a matter of time before she was able to recall the entire story and give law enforcement the details they needed to find and rescue Sissy.

  Perhaps, in the process, she’d also be able to free the child’s mother by testifying against Blake and the others, Emma mused.

  She closed her eyes and said a brief prayer, asking for that very outcome.

  As soon as Travis returned she intended to ask him to take her home again. Now that she was lucid and functional, there was no reason to stay in the hospital.

  Besides, she felt like a sitting duck lying in that bed. Everybody and his uncle probably knew exactly where she’d been taken and why. Word would surely reach Blake and the others. As long as she remained this exposed to outsiders, there was a good chance he’d make another attempt to frighten the secret out of her.

  Emma heaved a sigh of frustration. “I wish I knew what I’m supposed to be hiding. At least that way I’d be able to judge whether or not it’s important enough to risk my life for.”

  It must be, or she’d have told him everything when he was holding her prisoner, she reasoned. Which was all the more reason to keep dodging him until she did remember. Whatever truth was floating around in the deepest reaches of her subconscious, it would eventually surface. And when it did she was going straight to the sheriff.

  A thin nurse wearing green scrubs and a matching hat that tied in the back entered the room. Head down, she was maneuvering a wheelchair closer to Emma’s bed. That was a good sign. Maybe Travis had arranged for her release while he’d been out of the room.

  Sitting up, Emma smiled. “Wonderful. No offense, but I can hardly wait to get out of here.”

  The nurse left the chair by the bed and returned to close the door before saying, “Get dressed.”

  “Gladly.”

  She found her clothing in a neat pile in a plastic bin below the nightstand and dumped the articles onto the bed, then hurriedly donned them.

  “Be sure to thank whoever it was who folded this skirt for me,” Emma said. “It’s borrowed and I’d hate to have to return it all wrinkled.”

  “That’s the least of your worries right now,” the nurse said.

  Something in her tone gave Emma pause. She froze. Stared. Saw the green-clad figure turn and smile.

  It wasn’t a real nurse—nor was it a woman. Blake’s skinny, pimply, younger brother, Ben, had apparently stolen the outfit and had passed through the hospital corridors unquestioned.

  Emma’s quick side-to-side glance caused him to laugh.

  “Forget tryin’ to run off. Blake and Jet are here, too, watchin’ the exits in case you give me the slip. You won’t get away this time.”

  At that moment, Emma’s biggest concern was not for her own safety. She was worried Travis would return and be hurt. At this close range, surely no shooter would miss.

  A tentative knock on the door to the hospital room caused both Emma and her adversary to jump. Instead of Travis’s voice, however, they heard that of a woman gaily sing out, “Candy striper. I have a flower delivery for Ms. Landers.”

  “Don’t let her in,” Emma begged, hoping to protect another innocent person.

  “Have to or they’ll get suspicious and we’ll never get out of here,” Ben said flatly. He had a hand in his pocket, indicating the presence of a gun, as he unlocked the door and stepped aside.

  The flowers were nearly as big as the woman who bore them. They were arranged in a deep ceramic dish, the blossoms spreading past her shoulders and masking most of her face. When she strolled through the door and asked, “Where do you want them, dear?” Emma was so shocked she nearly gasped.

  “Um. I don’t know,” she managed to squeak.

  Ben had remained in the background, almost hidden behind the door. That position also put him right next to the bathroom.

  “Tell you what, suppose I just duck in here and add a bit of fresh water so they don’t wilt?”

  Before anyone could stop her, the woman with the bouquet headed straight for the bathroom. When she got close to where Ben was standing, she said, “Excuse me, dear. I just need a sec to see to these posies.”

  Emma watched, holding her breath, as Ben turned slightly and stepped out from behind the door. Because he intentionally kept his face averted, he provided the perfect target.

  The heavy ceramic container rose in the air behind him as its bearer brought it down on the back of his head.

  Emma lunged for him as he fell, closing her hand on his wrist in case he was conscious enough to fire the gun hidden in his pocket. She needn’t have worried. He collapsed like a marionette without strings.

  “There,” Cleo said, dusting off her hands as if ridding herself of the rubbish under the flowers on the floor. “One down. How many more to go?”

  “At least two,” Emma said. “Give me a hand.”

  Grabbing the slightly built guitarist under the arms, she started to drag his limp body while Cleo lifted his legs by the ankles.

  “Where are we going to put him?” the older woman asked.

  “On the bed. I can tape him to the rails,” Emma said. “While I’m doing that, you take his gun out of his pocket and aim it at him just in case.”

  “My pleasure.” Cleo was grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve never conked anybody like that before so I wasn’t positive it would work.”

  “How did you even know he was in here?”

  “I saw him in the hall, dodging a local newspaper reporter who was trying to get in to see you. I thought he looked awful ugly for a nurse. That’s when I realized I knew him from when he was a kid.”

  “What happened to Travis? I hope he’s okay.”

  “He’s fine. Last I saw, he was talking to that cute deputy, Adelaide Crowe.”

  Emma knew she was being baited so she schooled her features before answering. “Then he’s safe.”

  “From this bunch of no-goods,” Cleo drawled. “How safe he may be from a pretty woman is another question.”

  “Travis and I can never go back and take up where we left off, so you might as well stop trying to make me jealous,” Emma said. She busied herself pulling off lengths of adhesive tape and wrapping Ben’s wrists to the bed rails.

  “Okay,” the older woman replied. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  THIRTEEN

  By the time Harlan had decided that the others had escaped and had been assured that Ben was well enough to be hauled off to jail, Travis was on his way home with Emma.

  Cleo had left the hospital, too, detouring through town to apologize to the passengers she’d left stranded at church that morning when she’d hopped in her car and followed the ambulance carrying Emma.

  “You should have seen your aunt in action,” Emma told Travis, her grin wide, her eyes sparkling. “It was like a scene in a slapstick comedy. In she came, acting all innocent, and then wham, she bashed Ben so hard he never knew what hit him.”

  “Good thing she didn’t do any permanent damage,” Travis countered. He chuckled quietly as he pictured his aunt going on the offensive. “I wouldn’t want to see Cleo spending time in the slammer for assault with a deadly daisy.”

  Emma laughed, then sobered. “Speaking of jail, I think it may be time for me to bite the bullet and let Harlan arrange for me to visit Robbie.”

  “You sure?”

  She shrugged. “No. But I can’t see any other options, can you?”

  “Well, you could wait to remember more. Until the incident this morning you were really making progress.”

  “I still am,” she insisted. “I did remember Jet’s name.”

  “Under duress, too,” he said, continuing to smile. “You’re remarkable.”

  “Thanks. I’d settle for having half a mind.”

  “You’re just a bit rattled right now. You’ll get over it. I know you will.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Travis took a deep breath while choosing his words carefully. “Because I heard you sing this morning.” Taking his eyes off the road for an instant, he glanced over at her before adding, “I’ve never heard you sound more beautiful or put so much emotion into any song. It was amazing, Emma. Truly amazing.”

  Assuming she’d express doubt or modesty, he was surprised when she nodded and agreed with him.