Conard County Marine (15 page)

She wondered if he made everyone feel that way. His effect on her was undeniable. She wanted him sexually. The burning need of it never quieted anymore. It strengthened at times, then settled, then resurged. Only a couple of times had it completely vanished: when the rose had been delivered and she learned there had been one in Denver, and then tonight when she remembered that flashing blade. It had caught light from somewhere, but that had only allowed her to see her own blood on it.

She didn’t want to close her eyes again. She stared at the curtains they’d hung, glanced around the softly lit room, but barely dared to blink.

She didn’t want to see that image again as vividly as she had seen it earlier. Now it had entered the realm of memory, but then it had been very real and very much in the now when it had popped into her head. As if she’d been thrown back in time.

She felt Coop rest his hand on her shoulder. Heavy, strong, comforting. Amazing man. Not once had he told her to stiffen her spine or quit wallowing. No, she was the one who told herself that from time to time.

Life happened. Once it did there was no choice but to keep going. One foot in front of the other, as Coop said. Memory or no memory, she still had to do that. Life wouldn’t let her opt out.

But the idea that her attacker was stalking her made the future seem awfully hazy. Even with Coop and the entire Conard County Sheriff’s Department on alert for strangers, she couldn’t quite believe the guy wouldn’t find a way to get her.

Because he had gotten her before.

She didn’t even realize she had sighed until Coop spoke quietly.

“Heavy sigh,” he said. “Penny?”

“Nothing really. Part of me is mad at myself for letting this guy get to me this way, and part of me is scared to death. I’m kinda tired of being frightened.”

“I know. But this is one roller coaster you’re just going to have to ride, Kylie. The bumps will start to level out eventually.”

“Not if we don’t catch this guy. Shouldn’t it be possible to find out where someone bought a black rose? And who bought it?”

“I don’t know how many places sell them. And if he bought one with cash... I don’t know, Kylie. I’d be very surprised if the police haven’t looked into it, though. They sure didn’t overlook it.”

“You’re right. How else could Connie have gotten that information?”

“Exactly.” He rubbed her shoulder. “I can’t imagine sending anyone black roses, but given the world I suppose it’s probably easy enough to do. People do all kinds of things I’d never think of if I didn’t run into them.”

“They could make an interesting gag gift.”

He laughed quietly. “Yeah. Or they might be the way to the heart of a woman who adores black. Not my cup of tea, but I’m sure there are lots of people who feel differently.”

“Probably. That’s one thing nursing taught me. The limits of
my
imagination aren’t necessarily the limits of someone else’s.”

“Hah. Don’t tell me. I’ve already seen enough that I couldn’t have imagined.”

She bet he had. She rubbed her cheek against his thigh and felt him squeeze her shoulder. Beyond these walls, the night held a threat, a huge threat, for her, but within, close to Coop, she felt as if she were protected by a magic bubble.

She wished she knew some way to express that without embarrassing him. He seemed to consider what he was doing as perfectly normal, and the few times that she had said he was special, he’d dismissed it.

Maybe because of his personal cemetery. Maybe bodies buried there haunted him in ways she could scarcely imagine. Maybe because he said he honored them by remembering them. That was an awful burden to carry in his heart, but to her that merely spoke of what a truly good man he was. He said he believed in what he did, yet apparently he also felt the weight of it, for good or ill.

And she thought she’d had a rough time of it? She probably had no idea how rough life could really get. None at all.

At least she didn’t remember. Maybe she should stop thinking of that as a loss and start thinking of it as a mercy, even if it had changed her entire life in ways she was just beginning to understand.

He spoke. “Maybe you ought to give medical school another look.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve had this great big interruption. Instead of trying to pick up things where you left off, maybe you should go for what you really want. Start at the beginning of the big adventure. And don’t use money as an excuse. People go to medical school somehow, and when they get done they manage to pay their loans back. Maybe you need to take a fresh look at it.”

“Maybe,” she said slowly. A little kernel of excitement awoke in her, and she realized that she
still
wanted to be a physician. A doctor. Nothing had cut that out of her. And nothing had blocked her except herself.

As the idea turned in her mind, she thought of all the obstacles. She’d have to bone up for the MCAT so she could get admitted. She’d have to make sure the finances would work. But why not take another look at it? Her entire life had been run through a shredder. Maybe it was time to go for it.

Maybe she was being given a second chance.

For the first time it occurred to her that something positive could come out of all of this.

“You’re special, Coop.” She blurted the words. “And don’t argue with me, okay? I’m not asking for your opinion—I’m giving you mine. You’re special.”

His hand paused as it stroked her shoulder, then resumed. “Thank you,” he said finally. As if it hurt to accept the compliment.

What in the world did this man believe about himself? she wondered. That he just did his job and no more? That he could have been replaced by any of a billion men? She wondered if she’d ever met a man with so little ego. He was clearly capable and competent in many ways. He accepted that, but as if it were just average. Maybe for a marine it was, but somehow she doubted it. Maybe the standard he measured himself against was impossibly high.

Whatever, it was not something she could bring up. As much time as they had spent together, they hadn’t reached that kind of intimacy.

Thinking about Coop took her out of herself. So much so that she finally fell asleep without realizing it.

Never knowing that the man who held her watched her sleep and smiled.

*

Todd’s father had never gotten rid of an old car when he replaced it. The man had quit farming when
his
father had died and instead had become a financial planner. A trade he taught to Todd.

But the cars remained in the unused barn, an excuse for working on engines on a Saturday or Sunday. Todd had always hated it, but his dad had loved it, so he’d put up with it. Which meant that there were three old cars in the barn, rusting and aging, but as tuned up as race cars. Most of the time they sat on blocks. Once in a while Todd picked up some retread tires for one or another of them. And when he needed anonymity he had it.

None of the cars were registered any longer, so every year he stole useful license plates from other states, just in case he needed to drive one. Cops weren’t interested in stolen plates at all, not unless they stopped you and one was on your car. Since he only drove his own vehicle on road trips, he had nothing to fear.

Lately he’d been using the old Biscayne, but maybe it was time to switch to the Olds. He didn’t want to become recognizable around town, not at all.

So tomorrow he’d move the tires from the Biscayne to the Olds, and the Illinois license plate, as well. Or maybe he should switch to the Missouri plate, in case someone had noted the Illinois plate.

He’d think about that tomorrow.

At least he’d gotten away from Cooper. Thank goodness he hadn’t driven close to the Brewer house. No trail. He had to keep that in mind, because now he was dealing with a marine, and he hadn’t the faintest doubt that Cooper could track well.

Stay off the grass; use a car no one would identify—not the one he’d been using to talk to the kids. Not when he went for Kylie.

In fact, he told himself to stop sending her warnings. The black rose had been irresistible, but that was enough. Any more and he might make a mistake he couldn’t afford.

But as soon as he lectured himself, he started dreaming about other ways to scare her. He was discovering that he enjoyed playing with his prey.

Maybe when he was done with Kylie, he’d look for someone else to taunt and torment. It was just too delicious.

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t done this before.

*

Coop allowed himself to doze on the couch with Kylie’s head safely in his lap. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was as good as a cat at waking up. Years in extreme danger had turned him into the ultimate light sleeper. He could doze off at the drop of a hat at any moment when he felt safe, and wake even more quickly at any unusual sound, however quiet.

But Kylie’s sudden gasp was hardly quiet. Instantly awake, instantly alert, he looked down at her and saw that her eyes were wide open, staring. She felt as rigid as steel.

“Kylie?” He waited, hoping she might just go back to sleep. She might not really be awake. But then her voice reached him.

“I...remembered more.”

Aw, hell. Without a word, he scooped her stiff body onto his lap and wrapped her in whatever security his arms could provide. “So it’s coming back.”

“I’m afraid so.” She whispered the words, and her hand clutched the front of his sweatshirt in a death grip.

“His face?” Coop asked.

“No. Just more of...the knife. It’s almost like a fixation.”

“Hardly surprising.” He meant it. The horror of what had happened to her had probably focused on the instrument that had struck at her more than her attacker. Her eyes would have fixated on it, as well as her mind.

“Useless,” she muttered.

He hesitated, then said, “Hardly. You’re getting your memory back. That’s probably a good thing.”

She didn’t dissolve into terrified sobs this time. In fact, the tension eased out of her remarkably quickly. As if she were making some internal adjustment to her memory. Progress? He hoped so.

When at last she seemed comfortable against him he said, “Why don’t you try to see if you’ve recovered any other memories? Ordinary ones, like school, and your job. Maybe more is returning—it’s just not grabbing your attention.”

“That’s possible,” she admitted. “But how could I be sure I’m not just making it up?”

“I guess that’s the whole problem with memory.”

Her hand loosened on his shirt and she absently began to brush it smooth again. The gentle touches quickly lit the bonfire of his desire and he had to close his eyes, trying to dampen it. But no matter how much self-control he needed, he didn’t want her to stop touching him.

He forced his attention to a more important matter. “Is there someone around here you could talk to about it? A professional?”

“I’m sure. But they can’t fill in the blanks, and I’ll probably never be sure that I’ve filled in the blanks correctly. Will I?”

He absolutely didn’t know how to answer that. “Kylie, I’m not a professional. My gut says you should just trust yourself. What else can you do? We all have to trust our memories, and how often have you heard two people disagree on exactly what happened even yesterday?”

“I guess you’re right. Maybe I should dig out my textbooks and find out what’s familiar to me.”

“That’s an idea.”

Then she sighed and leaned into him even more. “You’re so reassuring. But honestly, Coop, that knife... I wish I could stop seeing it. You must have memories like that. How do you deal?”

Deal? Good question. You couldn’t fight them; you just had to live with them until age deprived them of their power over you. Some of those memories had an awfully long lifespan. “I live with it,” he said finally. “There’s no other way. In time, it usually gets better. The brain kind of burns out and it grows more distant. It has less impact. This is fresh, so hang on.”

He felt her head bob a little against his shoulder. “Medical school?” she said questioningly.

“What about it?”

“Should I really look into it again? I mean...”

“I can’t answer that. It just seems to me it was a dream of yours once upon a time. Maybe you can turn this mess into something positive by finding a way to do it. Or not. What do I know?”

She sighed and continued rubbing his chest. “You feel good.”

He didn’t know how to take that. “Meaning?”

“You just feel good. I like touching you. Sorry if that bothers you. It’s just... I like it.”

Well, he sure liked it, too. “It doesn’t bother me at all.” At least not in a negative way, because it was sure bothering him in other ways. “Don’t stop,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as thick as it felt.

“I don’t want to,” she said.

Then, moments later, she put an instant end to the haze of desire that had been enveloping him.

“Why,” she asked, “would someone do this to me? How could I have made someone this angry?”

Shock drew him up short. She was blaming herself? For what some sicko had done? Chances were she’d never seen the guy before he attacked her.

“I mean...he must have been furious,” she said.

“How about any fury was all in his own head? Maybe he never set eyes on you before the attack. For the love of God, Kylie, don’t blame yourself for what
he
did.”

“But there had to be a
reason
! And why
me
?”

“The only reason had to exist somewhere inside his head. It probably had nothing to do with you. And even if you did make him mad... Kylie, how many times in your life have you gotten angry? Did you ever want to kill someone?”

“No,” she said quietly.

“Then there you go. Don’t you dare blame yourself for what that creep did. He’s twisted, and his reasons will never justify what he did, nor should you take any responsibility for it.”

“It’s hard not to,” she admitted. “We always think things happen for a reason. I know it’s not true. I mean, I’ve treated little kids for cancer. What did they ever do to deserve that? What does anyone do? But I can’t shake it. I must have done something.”