Crash and Burn (2 page)

‘Hugh’ ducked and charged forward, diving at the gunman, grabbing for his feet. The gun went off again, but this time the bullet passed through the driver’s cabin door, shattering the window in its path. The train lurched to the left as it rounded the next bend. The sudden movement had Beth hurtling out of her hiding place. She saw the two men struggling on the floor. The train jerked once more, forcing them closer to the door. She jumped to her feet, her legs shaking as she inched closer to the fray. When the opportunity presented itself, she whacked the bad guy on the side of his head with the newspaper, but watched in horror as the movement of the train caused both the gunman and her cabin buddy to fall out of sight.

The train hurtled down the hill, increasing velocity until all movement stopped with a shuddering jolt. A deafening explosion sent Beth airborne before she landed hard on the floor. Shakily, she lifted her head and saw smoke coming from the gap under the door of the driver’s cabin. She heard the tortured sound of a scream coming from a distance. It took her a few seconds to realize it was her own. Her head throbbed and her legs wouldn’t cooperate when she tried unsuccessfully to lift herself up. Then it didn’t matter anymore, as the world around her went black.

Chapter One

Sydney

December 4th

Beth jolted awake, the crumpled sheets damp and musty as she shivered in a pool of sweat. She attempted to shake off the haze of another nightmare, but the fear that had her stomach in knots was too much for her to go back to sleep. If only she could remember what the dream was about. She’d had the same one over and over since the train crash eight weeks ago. Now, home from the hospital, she’d hoped they would stop, but they hadn’t—not yet anyway.

Her doctor had told her to give it time.
Easy for him to say
. It wasn’t just the dreams. There was the concussion and the banged-up knee. Apparently bad dreams were common after any head injury, but after a severe trauma such as a train crash, they were almost a foregone conclusion.
Lucky me.

Post-traumatic stress disorder, the psych team called it.
Yeah right
. Of course it was traumatic recovering from her injuries—and stressful? Definitely. Who wouldn’t be stressed when they’d lived through an accident like that and had no memory of it? Not remembering wouldn’t have been so bad, except for the fact that part of her subconscious must remember something and it was torturing her. Why else would she be having nightmares every night?

But time—and giving a name to her fear—hadn’t stopped the feeling there was an important part of what happened that day that she needed to remember.

Something had definitely happened that day on the train, she was sure of it, and it had everything to do with how the train crashed. Why didn’t anyone else seem to know? Certainly not the hospital staff, nor the police who’d been to interview her. Or were they hiding something?

The official report said the driver had suffered a heart attack and the dead-man’s switch had malfunctioned. But if that was all there was to it, why were the detectives spending so many hours questioning her?
What aren’t they telling me?

She needed to know. If she could remember, the nightmares might stop and she could get on with her life. She threw back the covers then grabbed her stick before shuffling to the side of the bed to stand up. Her knee continued to be sore after the surgeon had repaired the damage, although the sharp pain had lessened after she stretched the stiff muscles. By the time she reached her bathroom, she’d forgotten the pain in her leg completely as her mind was elsewhere, thinking about the uncertainty of her situation.

She couldn’t afford to wallow in self-pity, there were things to do, people and places to see, starting with an appointment with an old friend that she shouldn’t miss.

* * * *

The silver-haired man sat and stared at his phone. He hesitated, taking extra time as he straightened himself in the chair. How was he going to fix the mess he’d gotten himself into?

He reached for the phone and his shaking hand punched in a long number from memory. A heavily accented voice answered on the first ring.

“Speak.”

“She’s left the hospital.”

Silence stretched the moment, sweat tracing a path down his already damp neck as he waited for a reply.

“We expected this day would come. You’ll have to watch her closely. Do you believe she knows anything?”

He dragged the crumpled handkerchief over his brow and blew out a breath before he answered.
“I don’t know for sure. According to my source inside the hospital, she has no memory of the train incident. We don’t know if this is a cover or the truth. And if it is true, we have no guarantee that she won’t get her memory back.”

“Either way, we will need to watch her.”

“Yes, of course. And if she does know something?”

“Eliminate her.”

Eliminate her? Could he do it? He didn’t know if he had the stomach for it anymore, but if it came to that, he knew someone who did—for a price.

* * * *

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do next?” Dr. Bennett pushed his wireframe glasses back from the tip of his nose in a familiar gesture. “What about your studies?”

Beth smiled at the family doctor she’d known all her life. Normally she felt comfortable discussing her future with Dr. B. He was a trusted family friend, after all. But her University course could wait. It was an Internet-based course she could pick up whenever she wanted to, and she didn’t feel quite ready for that right now. “I’m not sure what I want to do yet. I should probably think about going back to work first. The insurance payout won’t be available for months yet and my bank balance is going to run low soon.”

“Don’t worry about that. You know I’ll help you out with money anytime. You do need to get back to your usual routine as soon as possible, but you should wait for the leg to heal before you go back to work.” Dr. Bennett’s voice held genuine concern as he hauled his big frame across the floor to wrap his arms around Beth. She’d always felt safe in Dr. B’s office. As a child she’d visited him often and had fond memories of him offering her jellybean bribes. The smell of the tan leather chesterfield brought it all back to her. But she wasn’t a child with tonsillitis now. She was twenty-six years old and needed to stand on her own two feet.

“Yes, well, I don’t have a choice at the moment. My boss has hired a temp for another month. I want to make sure that not only my leg heals, but I also get my head together in that time. I want to remember what happened. I’m sure I saw something important, and I can’t move on until I find out what it is.”

And there were those other dreams. The ones involving chocolate-brown eyes and a sexy smile that had her blood warming and her skin tingling. Of course she couldn’t mention
those
, but it was a strange coincidence that they appeared the same time as the nightmares.

She moved out of the embrace and sat up straight, throwing her legs back over the side of the couch. “You know how it is when you can’t remember an important detail. You can almost see it… It sticks up over the haze just a little, but not enough to recognize it completely. It stays on your mind and drives you crazy all day until it comes to you. That’s how I feel all the time now.”

“Beth,” he said, leaning against the arm of the leather couch, “didn’t your doctor tell you that you may never recover those memories? In cases of retrograde and anterograde amnesia, it’s rare for the patient to get any of that memory back. It’s the brain’s way of coping with the pain. It doesn’t want to remember, so try not to push it. It only makes it harder if you try to force the memories. Try to relax, and if they’re going to come at all, they’ll come on their own.”

“I know, that’s what my doctor said and my brain agrees with you, but I can’t help wanting to know what happened. The dreams are awful. They scare me. I just want them to go away.” Beth shuddered and pulled herself upright on the couch, folding her arms. “I’ve been thinking about going back to the scene of the crash to see if it triggers anything. What do you think?”

“You can’t be serious?” He stepped back to the large chair behind his desk and sat down, his eyes wide with concern. “You’re definitely not strong enough for that sort of ordeal, and it probably won’t achieve anything anyway. Why don’t you wait a while? When your knee’s better, you might feel differently. I’ll even come with you when the time comes, but I’m not convinced you’re ready for that just yet.”

“You think I should wait?”

“Of course I do. In my opinion, you’re nowhere near ready. You’d be better off spending the time doing your therapy and catching up on your studies until then.”

What a one-track mind he has,
she thought, smiling. He’d been a wonderful support to her since her parents’ death five years ago, but sometimes he acted as if it was his moral duty to keep her on the straight and narrow. Sometimes he forgot that she was a grown woman used to making her own decisions. Not that she’d ever been in trouble in the past, but she hated to disappoint him after all he’d done for her. “I suppose it makes sense to wait,” she said tentatively, turning her head and biting down into her lip.

Maybe Doc was right. She would be better able to cope when her leg was stronger. She was getting more mobile every day, but she was still dependent on the stick. Although the pain wasn’t as bad as it had been initially, the stiffness was still a handicap she didn’t need. Maybe she
should
wait.

* * * *

By the time another week had gone by, waiting was the last thing Beth wanted or needed. Sleep only brought on the fearful dreams, so she’d started avoiding it altogether, finding numerous reasons to justify staying up later and later. The late night movies weren’t doing it for her any more. She couldn’t concentrate on reading and she sucked at knitting. And the worst of it all was that her health was beginning to suffer. She checked out her reflection in the bathroom mirror one morning after another sleepless night and she groaned. Her normally springy red curls were dank and limp, her skin was pale and pasty and the dark rings under her eyes made her look as if she’d gone two rounds in the boxing ring.

This could
not
go on. She needed control of her life.
Empowerment, that’s what it’s called.
Maybe retracing her steps would help bring back whatever pieces of her memory she’d lost and that would be the end of it. It’d only be an overnight stay. She could catch the nine o’clock train and be back by lunchtime the next day. She had no family to consider and Dr. B was the only person apart from her therapist who knew she was home. No one would even miss her.
Easy.

* * * *

Easy?
Standing on the cold platform at Central station the following day with her stomach in knots and her head pounding, Beth almost changed her mind.

Why is this a good idea?

Her breathing came in and out like an air pump, increasing in speed so that she was almost hyperventilating. What had she been thinking?

“Are you sick, miss?” asked the platform attendant. “You’re not going to throw up, are you?”

Beth lifted her eyes from the ground she’d been staring at in an effort to staunch the growing dizziness her rapid breathing was causing. She would have fallen over if the attendant hadn’t reached out and steadied her arm. “I’m fine really, thank you. I’ll just sit down.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” he said as he guided her to a bench.

“I’m sure, thanks.”

She sighed as he walked away.
This is ridiculous,
I’m just catching a train. What’s the worst that can happen?

The worst had already happened,
she told herself as she tried with every breath to convince herself not to turn around and go home right now. Why was she putting herself through this again?

I might remember something. That could only be good, couldn’t it?
Beth continued the internal argument and at the same time fought a gnawing fear that was twisting, knot after knot, into her already fluttering stomach.

She jumped as the loudspeaker announced the train was about to leave.
It’s now
or never.
She dragged herself off the bench and hobbled into the closest carriage with her stick in hand and backpack slung over her shoulder.

* * * *

The lush green hills of the Southern Highlands should have been soothing. The quaint little townships they passed with their numerous antique shops should have stirred up at least some curiosity, but all Beth could see was a fuzzy blur as the train flashed quickly along the track. She sat with fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white and numbness was setting in. Despite the sun shining in through the window, she was shivering violently.

“Excuse me, but are you okay?” A rich, deep voice broke through her icy stupor and warmed her like smooth hot chocolate on a cold winter morning. She lifted her head to see who spoke and stared into the sexiest brown eyes she’d seen for a long time, maybe ever.
Holy crap.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked if you’re okay,” the deep voice continued from the other side of the carriage.

Beth turned farther and inspected the face that came with the eyes and the voice. For a brief moment she thought she saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

Does he know me? Was he on the train that day?

No, that couldn’t be true. What are the chances of meeting someone who had been on the train the day of the crash?
But he does seem familiar
, she thought as she shifted back in her seat and tried to place him.

“I’m fine, just a little travel sickness,” she lied. “It happens sometimes. Maybe I should get a drink of water.”

Beth fumbled with her stick as she tried to stand. The stranger also stood and put his hand out to stop her.