Chapter 2 Mystery Woman
W hat in the world? Gage Hefner gazed down at the lovely cowgirl in growing alarm. Though she’d said she was tired, there was no way a perfect stranger would launch herself into his arms merely to fall asleep.
Nothing about their encounter felt normal. For one thing, she felt way too thin and fragile, and her face was way too pale. The lack of color in her cheeks made her skin nearly a perfect match for the white-blonde braids resting against her shoulders.
Her breathing was slow — the shallow intakes and exhales of someone in a deep slumber, and the intakes seemed to be slowing. He reached for her wrist and discovered her pulse was also abnormally slow.
Not good. Not good at all. It didn’t take a medical background to deduce she was fading quickly. “Somebody call 9-1-1,” he shouted. “This woman needs an ambulance!”
The farmers dug for their phones, but Casey was quicker. In two snaps, she was speaking rapidly to the answering attendant. “I don’t know, but it’s serious,” she snapped. “A heart attack, maybe? Hurry!”
Almost immediately, sirens started blaring in the distance. It was one of the perks of living in a small town like Heart Lake. Not only did they experience few medical emergencies, the paramedics didn’t have far to drive when it happened.
Gage waved his fingers beneath the nose of the woman in his arms to make sure she was still breathing. She was, but just barely. He muttered a prayer for her to hang on until help arrived. It had been a while since he’d performed CPR on anyone. He’d greatly prefer to leave that up to the medical professionals.
As the ambulance sirens wailed closer, he took a rapid inventory of what was sitting on the table in front of them. Besides the stack of menus and the usual collection of condiments, there was only a single glass of water and a small bowl of lemon wedges resting there. Unsure if he was looking at a crime scene, he made a mental note to gather everything he could from the table and take it with him. That way, the forensics team at the local PD or one of his friends at the medical lab downtown could run some tests on them.
Maybe he was jumping to conclusions too quickly, but his gut was telling him not to rule out the possibility that a dirtbag like Billy Bob Bolander might’ve dumped something inside the unconscious woman’s water glass. Gage had never laid eyes on him before. But according to local gossip, he was the black sheep of the hallowed Bolanders. Gage couldn’t have cared less who he was related to. A person’s pedigree didn’t give them the right to mistreat a woman the way he’d been doing.
None of which explained how she’d known Gage’s name or why she’d been looking for him. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Or any other jewelry, for that matter. No watch. No sunglasses. No handbag. She’d been remarkably stripped down for a woman.
The ambulance careened into the parking lot, flashing its lights and screaming its sirens. Then the sirens stopped. Moments later, a pair of paramedics rushed through the cracked glass door, wheeling a stretcher between them.
While they loaded the pale woman onto the stretcher and placed an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose, he reached for the napkin she’d discarded and tore it in half. He used the two pieces to lift her glass of water and the bowl of lemons.
Casey watched him, snorting in disgust. “Really, Gage? I appreciate what you’re doing for that woman, but that doesn’t change the fact that you chased away one of our best customers. And now you’re taking our glassware with you, too?”
“It’s evidence.” He gaped in astonishment at her. “Add it to my bill if you want.” This was the first time he’d ever seen the teen without a smile on her face.
“No, it’s okay,” she mumbled, looking uncomfortable as she turned away from him. “You’re one of our best customers, too, Gage.”
Too? He stared after her, trying to tamp down on his anger. “I can’t believe you just lumped me and that piece of scum in the same category.” There was a distinct possibility that the guy was the whole reason a woman was currently being loaded into an ambulance outside.
“I wasn’t referring to Billy Bob precisely. I haven’t seen him in a coon’s age.” Casey rolled her eyes as she moved around the preparation counter and returned with a box of plastic wrap. She tore off two squares and helped him seal them over the water glass and bowl of lemon wedges. “I meant the Bolanders, in general. His dad and older brother like to stop in now and then.”
Gage grunted. “For your sake, I hope they’re nothing like the Bolander who just left skid marks in your parking lot.” They certainly weren’t very friendly to newcomers in town. Gage could vouch for that. He’d been trying for ten straight months to get an audience with one of them. So far, they’d failed to return any of his calls or emails.
“Nope. They’re a lot nicer, and they tip well.” She blew out a breath as she moved back behind the counter. “That said, they’re not the kind of folks we’d want any trouble with.”
It almost sounded like she was afraid of them. Gage tucked that bit of information away for later. He found it odd that he’d been in town for nearly ten months before meeting his first Bolander, though he’d been trying his hardest to do exactly that. He’d driven past the big Bolander & Sons sign above the entrance to their ranch dozens of times. He’d even counted their silver grain silos dotting the fields along the highway on the way into town. There were eighteen of them, six less than the twenty-four stone and concrete silos of their biggest competitor on the other side of the road, Radcliffe Industries.
“About the woman in the ambulance…” He caught Casey’s eye again. “Did she give you her name?”
“Nope.” She plunged her hands into the sudsy sink in front of her and started washing glasses. “All she did was order water and breakfast that she’s clearly not going to eat.” She pointed one damp finger at the plate on the warming tray behind her. “It’s too bad. She looked like she could use a meal.”
Gage agreed with her assessment, but he didn’t have time to keep chatting. He hurried after the woman on the stretcher with the glass of water and bowl of lemons in hand. “I’ll follow you to the medical center,” he hollered to the paramedic who was sliding behind the wheel of the ambulance. There was no way he was heading home until he figured out how the Jane Doe they were transporting to the medical center knew his name and why she’d been looking for him.
The driver nodded without looking up and slammed his door shut. The ambulance took off, wailing its sirens again.
Gage sprinted to his Ford Bronco. Normally, he would’ve taken an extra second or two to admire the classic ranger stripes he’d paid a nice chunk of change to have painted over the black and beige paint job, which was also new. At the time, he’d jokingly told the detail guy it only made sense for a retired Army Ranger to have ranger stripes added to his fully restored 1966 Bronco. The detail guy had stared blankly at him for a moment before catching the pun.
Gage hurriedly plunked the sealed glass of water in one of his cup holders and tossed the bowl of lemon wedges in the passenger seat. Then he started the motor and gunned it after the ambulance.
Yeah, he was speeding, but everyone wearing a badge at the Heart Lake Police Department knew his vehicle and knew what he did for a living. They tended to give him and his coworkers at Lonestar Security a free pass on stuff like that. For one thing, they didn’t speed unless it was absolutely necessary in the line of duty. For another thing, it was pretty obvious he was following an ambulance.
He reached the sprawling white medical center, grabbed the first available parking spot, and took off at a jog toward the ER. Once inside the waiting room, he hurried over to the receptionist’s window and flashed his Lonestar Security badge. He wasn’t sure how far it would get him, but it was worth a try.
“I’m with the Jane Doe,” he announced briskly.
The woman in blue scrubs was typing frenziedly on her computer. She paused long enough to glance at his badge and nod. Then she tapped a button on the cabinet next to her desk. The Authorized Personnel Only door to his left popped open. “Second bay on the left,” she intoned.
He stepped inside the emergency room, slipping his security badge to the outside of his left pocket in the hopes of looking like he was on official business. He was careful to stay out of the way of the white-uniformed staff moving in and out of the curtained-off bay in front of him. Since it was the only hub of activity in the room, he could only presume the Jane Doe was on the other side of the curtain.
Gage moved to the back of the bay, pulled back the curtain, and stepped inside. After a few curious glances his way, the medical staff pretty much ignored him.
The next hour or so passed in a flurry of vitals, blood tests, and physical exams. Gage paced away the time, sometimes inside the curtained-off area, sometimes right outside of it.
The white-haired ER doc finally walked up to him, beckoning him to walk with him away from the alcove. “Are you the guy who followed the ambulance here?” His gaze flicked to Gage’s Lonestar Security badge.
“Yep.” Gage gave a vague shrug. “Are you able to share any updates?”
The doctor’s expression remained grave. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it. When our Jane Doe arrived, she had a near lethal dose of xylazine in her system. She’s in bad shape.”
“A horse tranq?” Blood boiling, Gage’s hands flew to his head. No wonder her pulse had dropped so dramatically after only a few sips of water. If she’d drunk the entire glass, it would’ve killed her.
“I’m afraid so.” The doctor’s voice grew resigned. “Not sure it if was accidental, attempted suicide, or what. We’re doing everything we can to offset the symptoms, but this is the part where we pray for a miracle.”
In other words, she might not survive. And if she didn’t, she would be the second death under mysterious circumstances tied to the Bolanders.
That I know about. As diligently as Gage had been investigating their family after hours, this was not the kind of evidence he’d been hoping to gather about them. The woman in the ER, who was no longer able to breathe on her own, didn’t deserve to leave the world that way. Nobody did.
“I take it you haven’t yet figured out who she is?” He watched the medical personnel continue to scurry in and out of the curtained-off area, wishing there was something he could do for the woman fighting for her life on the other side of it. She’d been so soft and lovely, so animated one moment, then snuffed out like a candle only seconds later.
“That is correct.” The doctor held out a heavily wrinkled, folded piece of paper. “Since you’re the one who found her, you may already be aware of what she had in her pockets.”
Gage shook his head.
“This.” The man waved a crumpled and folded piece of paper at him. “Along with a bottle of anti-rejection meds and just shy of a thousand dollars in cash. We locked up the money for safekeeping, of course.”
“Anti-rejection meds?” Gage frowned at him as he reached for the folded-up piece of paper .
“For an organ transplant,” the doctor explained. “From the location of her scars, it could be the liver, pancreas, small intestine, or even a kidney. I’ve put in an order for some imaging to try to figure out what’s going on, just as soon as we get her stable.”
Man! As if the woman didn’t already have enough on her plate! There was no way of knowing if the organ transplant would reduce her chances of survival, but Gage was speculating that it would.
“A thousand dollars is a lot of cash to travel with,” he mused. From her dusty, bedraggled appearance, he would’ve never guessed she was carrying that much money on her.
“That it is.” The doctor watched him unfold the piece of paper.
Gage frowned as he studied it. His first thought was that it looked like some sort of treasure hunt. It was a map of all the major towns and interstates traversing the southern half of the United States. A big dark circle was inked across Corpus Christi. From there, a series of dotted lines had been drawn in a somewhat disjointed path to what had once been Ft. Benning, Georgia. It had since been renamed Ft. Moore.
He was fascinated to note the hand-drawn shield that represented the seventy-fifth ranger battalion. It was the same unit he’d served in. The dotted path continued from Ft. Moore, back across the southern states in a slightly different route to Heart Lake, Texas. The X’s on the first leg of the journey were more smudged and faded than the X’s on the second leg, making him think they were older. The only other thing that jumped out at Gage was the fact that he’d traveled a similar path a year ago from the state of Georgia to the state of Texas .
Correction. He’d traveled the exact same path.
His gaze narrowed on the individual cities circled. Whoever had drawn the map had made the same stops he had — for gasoline, meals, and a few hours of sleep at a rest area before continuing his trip the next morning. It was as if the owner of the map had been tracking him!
He replayed his conversation with the Jane Doe right before she’d passed out.
How’d you know my name?
Her response had caught him off guard.
I’ve been looking for you.
Though he still didn’t have the faintest idea why, their lives were connected somehow, and not just because of his personal digging into the background of the Bolanders.
He withdrew his cell phone. “Mind if I take a picture of this?”
The doctor waved a hand wearily. “Knock yourself out. I’d be mighty grateful if you’d help us track down her next of kin before it’s too late.” He paused before continuing in a quieter voice, “Assuming there’s anyone to track down. We haven’t received any calls about her. Nothing.”
“We’ll do our best.” Gage snapped a few photos. It was unfortunate that no one had come looking for her yet. “Have you shown this to the police?”
“No. I was hoping there wouldn’t be a reason to,” the doctor sighed. “But if no one shows up to claim her soon…”
“I’ll do it,” Gage offered, folding the map and handing it back.
“I’d appreciate it.” The doctor waved the folded map at him. “We’ll stick this in the bag with her clothes and money.”
An hour or so later, Jane Doe was pronounced stable enough to transfer to an intensive care ward, where she remained unconscious and fully intubated. She wasn’t out of the woods yet.
Gage claimed the chair beside her bed and raised his cell phone to his ear. It was time to place the call he’d promised the doc he’d do. The office manager at the police department, a grandmotherly dumpling of a woman named Fran, transferred him to the newly elected sheriff. Nice guy. He and Gage were about the same age.
“I’m with a Jane Doe at the medical center,” he announced without preamble. “It’s possible we’re dealing with some foul play involving Billy Bob Bolander.” He described the events leading up to her hospitalization.
“I’ll be right over,” Luke Hawling promised grimly. “We’ll scan her fingerprints to see if she’s in the system. I’ll also order a forensics exam to see what else pops.”
“Any interest in taking a look at the water and lemons I took from her table at the diner?” If not, Gage intended to call in a favor with a friend at the lab downtown.
“Very interested.” There was a pause and some rustling sounds in the background. “I appreciate you taking the time to bring them with you.”
“Happy to help.” Gage credited it to the ofttimes rigorous training he’d received at Lonestar Security. They’d taught him to be aware of everything around him. Not to leave a single stone unturned when it came to examining a crime scene. Unfortunately, his training hadn’t gotten him many steps closer to his biggest reason for moving to Heart Lake.
“Thanks again for the call.” There were more rustling sounds in the background. “I’ll take that other stuff off your hands while I’m at the medical center.” Luke disconnected the line.
Gage was surprised to hear that the sheriff himself was coming to take Jane Doe’s fingerprints, though he suspected it had something to do with the fact that the Bolanders were involved. It was like they were backwoods royalty or something, with the way everyone in town tiptoed around them.
He called his supervisor at Lonestar Security next to fill him in on everything that had happened at the diner. Gil Remington was the recently retired sheriff of Heart Lake. He was almost as new on the job as Gage was, having started work at the security firm only a few months before he had. However, Gil was eons ahead of Gage in terms of law enforcement experience. Gage was like a newborn baby in comparison, painstakingly learning about the world of private investigating one step at a time beneath Gil’s patient mentoring.
Gage was surprised that the tetrad partnership at Lonestar Security had allowed him to come on board as a private investigator at all, considering his lack of law enforcement experience. However, they hadn’t questioned his reasons. They’d simply swallowed his line about his lifelong passion for ensuring that bad guys were held accountable for their actions — from twenty years as a soldier and now in the capacity of a PI.
He had his reasons, though.One very big reason in particular. He was seeking justice for his former company commander, Mick Lawton, a man who’d grown up at the Bolanders’ ranch. He’d been brutally murdered shortly after his retirement, and his killer had yet to be apprehended. There weren’t even any serious suspects. Mick had been the kind of guy everyone loved. Everyone in his home country, at any rate. No doubt he’d racked up a few enemies overseas, where his acts of valor had made him a Medal of Honor recipient .
“What can you tell me about your Jane Doe?” Gil’s question interrupted Gage’s wandering thoughts and brought him back to the present. His mentor’s voice was all business. Gil had a way of slipping back into sheriff mode as easily as breathing.
Gage’s mind raced over what little he knew about the fragile woman stretched out beside him in a hospital gown and too many wires and cords snaking across her body to count. “She knew my name.” That was the main thing eating away at him.
“Oh?” Curiosity sharpened Gil’s voice.
“She said she’d been looking for me.” That detail was equally puzzling. “The ER doc found a map in her pocket that would suggest she tracked me all the way from Ft. Moore to Heart Lake.”
“Do you recognize her?”
“Never seen her in my life.” Gage would’ve remembered such a soft-spoken beauty. She reminded him of a delicate flower, right down to the way she’d launched herself into his arms. It had felt more like wilting than launching.
He’d also never forget the feeling of protectiveness that had surged inside him, an oddly intense feeling to have for a perfect stranger. During his many years of service in the U.S. Army, he couldn’t recall anyone making him feel quite the same way. Maybe it was his singleness and loneliness messing with his head. It was something he was hoping to change soon. He’d been praying that the Lord would miraculously send the one his way. Though it was hard to classify a Jane Doe as an answer to his prayers, it didn’t feel like a coincidence that a wildly cute blonde woman had literally fallen into his arms today.
“What’s her connection to Billy Bob Bolander?” The wheels spinning inside Gil’s meticulously thorough mind might as well have been audible.
“Not sure yet.” Gage was still noodling his way through that mystery. “The only thing Casey at The Hitching Post would say about the Bolanders is that they’re some of her best customers. She seemed worried that my run-in with Billy Bob might blow back on her and her family.”
“Typical.” Gil’s voice grew hard.
“Would you care to elaborate on that, sir?” Gage was more curious than ever about them.
“There’s not much to tell, I’m afraid,” Gil sighed. “They’ve been around for as long as I can remember, buying up land outside the city limits of Heart Lake without ever crossing the line.”
Interesting. “Staying within spitting distance of your jurisdiction, eh?” But never inside it .
“Exactly.”
“And that’s a problem because…?” Gage sensed that Gil was willing to say more.
“Because their two sons were a menace to society while growing up — reckless driving, drag racing, vandalism, you name it. Always thought they were above the law.” His mentor huffed out a breath. “Things quieted down when their younger son went to jail. The older one quieted down not too long after that. Last I heard, he’s worked his way into an executive VP position at the family firm. Who knows? Maybe he finally grew up.”
For months, Gage had been champing at the bit to ask questions like this. Thanks to Billy Bob’s thug behavior, he finally had a reason to ask them that wouldn’t raise suspicions about his real intentions.
“By family business, I assume you’re referring to their granary. ”
“Yep. It’s one of the biggest and most profitable ones in the west,” his mentor affirmed.
Gage already knew that. What he didn’t understand was how a company with six fewer silos than their next biggest competitor had managed to post higher profits for ten quarters straight. It didn’t add up.
“From what I understand,” Gil continued, “they enjoy a very low turnover rate, too.”
“How low are we talking about?” Though Gage was anxious to get back to discussing their Jane Doe, he didn’t want to miss the opportunity to learn as much as he could about the Bolanders.
“Word on the street is that nobody leaves Bolander & Sons. Could be because they pay well. Could be because of something else.”
Okay, you have my attention now. “Do you know anyone who works there?” So far, this was the most anyone in town had been willing to share with him about the Bolanders.
“I used to know a guy there, but he left town a long time ago.” Gil’s voice hardened. “Not that this has to do with anything, but his ex-wife is in line to become the next CEO of their biggest competitor, Radcliffe Industries.”
Gage’s heart pounded with excitement. He knew exactly who they were talking about, since Avery Radcliffe happened to be Mick Lawton’s ex-wife.
“How’s their turnover rate compared to the Bolanders?” Gage wasn’t sure where that question had come from. He was mostly just trying to keep the conversation going.
“One and the same.” Gil was silent for a moment. “A few of the locals claim it’s like working for the mafia, but it hasn’t stopped a growing number of Heart Lakers from joining their payroll. ”
Gage didn’t like the sound of that. “Any idea how many we’re talking about?”
“According to the latest report that crossed my desk? Roughly fifteen percent.” Gil didn’t sound the least bit pleased about it, either. “It’s up three percent from last year.”
It sounded significant to Gage, too, though he wasn’t sure it had anything to do with their Jane Doe. “What do you know about Billy Bob Bolander specifically?” He was more than ready to circle back to what had happened at the diner earlier.
“Like I said, he’s trouble.” Gil’s voice was resigned. “I didn’t realize he was out of jail before you called. Let’s see… He had his first DUI on his twentieth birthday. Got busted for possession a few months after that. He was tried as an adult and convicted, which earned him his initial stint in the slammer. After he got out, he was pulled over for drag racing, and the officer smelled marijuana in the car. He was arrested for possession again. The second time he went to jail, his father disowned him. Or so I was told. Couldn’t verify it. Didn’t even try to.”
“Ouch! Guess his folks finally got fed up with his knot-headedness.”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Gil’s interest in the topic sounded like it was waning.
“Which begs another question.” Every time Gage learned something about the Bolanders, it seemed to open a whole new can of worms. “If Billy Bob was, in fact, disinherited, why’s he back in town harassing our Jane Doe?”
“That’s a good question,” Gil drawled slowly.
A knock sounded on the door of the intensive care room.
Gage stood and moved across the room to open it. Sheriff Luke Hawling’s darkly tanned and scarred face appeared on the other side.
Gage hastily spoke into his phone. “Gotta go, sir.”
“Roger that. Keep me posted.” Gil disconnected the line.
Luke shook Gage’s hand. “How is she?” His voice was hushed as he stepped inside the room with his Stetson in hand. He was in the typical Heart Lake Police Department uniform — a white dress shirt, jeans, and boots. His sheriff’s badge was pinned against his chest.
Gage shook his head regretfully. “I’m being told it’s gonna take a miracle.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.” The sheriff got to work, scraping beneath the woman’s fingernails, taking pictures of her from various angles, and scanning her fingerprints into his electronic tablet. He finally straightened. “I don’t think we’re gonna find her in the system.” He pointed at the door, silently indicating he wanted to talk to Gage out of the patient’s earshot.
Gage followed him into the hallway, burning with curiosity.
“Her fingerprints have been altered,” Luke announced gruffly. “I’m betting her facial features have been, as well. She’s got some cosmetic surgery scars. Very high-end, barely there kind of scars. I might’ve missed them if I wasn’t looking for them.”
Well, I’ll be! Gage glanced back toward the door of the room housing the mystery woman. Since he couldn’t picture her altering her appearance to cover a life of crime, his thoughts roved to other possibilities. Like federal witness protection. Folks didn’t erase their own fingerprints unless they were trying to hide from someone.
“It’s possible she just didn’t like the way she looked before.” Luke gave him a bemused look. “She wouldn’t be the only one who’s ever felt that way.” He pointed at the scarred side of his face. From what Gage had heard, Luke had almost been burnt alive in his sleep during a house fire some time ago.
Though anything was possible at this point concerning the Jane Doe, there was one detail that made Gage think they were dealing with something other than cosmetic surgery. “Most folks don’t alter their fingerprints.”
“Nope. They don’t. That’s a puzzle for sure.” Luke was silent for a moment. “I wouldn’t jump to any conclusions, though. Could be she just wanted a fresh start.”
“Could be.” Somehow, Gage doubted the truth was that simple.
Luke followed him to his Bronco to retrieve the glass of water and white porcelain bowl.
Gage wagged a finger at the two items. “Casey made it clear she wanted their glassware back.”
“That might take a while.” Luke didn’t sound very optimistic. “It’s evidence now.”
After he drove off, a couple of hours passed before he called Gage back. “Got some preliminary test results on the water glass.”
“Let me guess.” Gage could barely stomach the thought. “More xylazine?”
“Enough to kill a horse.” The sheriff didn’t sound too happy about it.
“So, we’re looking at attempted murder?” Gage felt his temperature rise.
“Looks like.”
“With Billy Bob Bolander as our top suspect.”
“Maybe. He wasn’t the only one in the room with her,” the sheriff reminded quietly .
Gage’s blood started to boil again. “He was the only one roughing her up!”
“I hear you, but we’re going to have to do this by the books.” Luke’s voice was cautious. “It’s the Bolanders we’re talking about. They’re gonna lawyer up the moment we bring Billy Bob in for questioning. We can’t afford to make any mistakes with them.”
“Okay.” Gage was pretty sure he knew what the guy was going to say next.
“It means the police will take it from here, Gage.”
Yeah, yeah. Though Gage was disappointed, he wasn’t surprised he was being told to back off. Gil had warned him not to take offense about it when it happened.
They’ve got their job, and we’ve got ours. Just stay in your lane.
“Understood.” In some ways, he didn’t mind being nudged off this particular case. He had no interest in viewing the unconscious woman beside him as merely part of the job. Nope. It was strictly for personal reasons that he chose to linger at her bedside. Ever since she’d called him by name, he’d been drawn to her.
“Our next step will be posting a guard at our Jane Doe’s door.” Luke’s voice turned sly. “If you’d like, I’ll give Lonestar Security a call and let them know you’re volunteering to take first shift.” Lonestar was the first place Luke always called when he needed to hire extra manpower.
Back on duty. Gage’s lips twitched. “That’s fine with me, sheriff.” On the upside, it would give him the perfect excuse for lingering past visiting hours.
“Thanks, Gage. I’m beginning to see why Gil and his team were so anxious to snap you up.” Luke ended the call.
Wow! Gage hadn’t been expecting a compliment. He tossed his phone in the air and caught it .
The woman lying on the bed beside him stirred.
He watched her eyelids flutter against her cheeks and grow still again. He scanned her still form worriedly. Who are you? He’d give anything right now for her to open her eyes and tell him.
As he studied her, he experienced the nagging sensation that he’d seen her before. Or someone who resembled her. There was something vaguely familiar about her classic oval features and ever-so-slightly upturned nose. Had he been wrong in assuming they’d never met before?
He leaned closer to the bed, searching for the scars the sheriff had mentioned. And there they were. The first one was a faint silvery-pink line just inside her hairline near her left temple. He located another scar between the bend of her chin and neck.
He leaned back a few inches to study her from a zoomed out angle and was struck by the symmetry of her straight nose, full lips, and rounded chin. They were perfect, almost too perfect.
Settling back in the vinyl chair beside her bed, he tried to picture her without a facelift, nose job, and chin tuck. Her eyes would no longer have that slightly upturned look at the outer edges. Her nose might be slightly curved, concave, or even hooked.
It dawned on him that the roots of her hair were darker than the white-blonde wisps dangling against her cheeks and ears —a lot darker. She was a natural brunette. Not a blonde.
His heart thumped at the realization that a less symmetrical version of the facial features in front of him, if framed with darker hair, would most certainly bear a striking resemblance to someone he’d met before — to his former company commander, Mick Lawton. A woman who’d gone missing the same day he’d been murdered.
Speculation about her role in the homicide had blown across the news and social media sites like wildfire. Some folks postulated that she’d had a hand in her father’s murder, while other folks postulated it had been a double homicide. Gage was sketchy on the details, since the Corpus Christi police had refused to tell him anything.
The air clogged in his chest as his mind raced over a whole new set of possibilities. “Ella?” He reached over to reverently touch the back of her hand. Was it really her? After all the time she’d been missing, had she somehow found her way to him?
He wrapped his fingers around her much colder ones. Cupping his other hand around them, he gently rubbed them, trying to warm them up. “Come on! Keep fighting,” he begged huskily. “Do it for your dad.” He gently squeezed her hand for emphasis and was about to let it go, but her fingers moved against his. At first, he thought he’d imagined it, but her fingers moved again.
Glancing toward the door in elation, he hollered out hoarsely, “Nurse!” Their Jane Doe was waking up.
Except she was no longer a person without a name.
She was Ella Lawton, a woman he’d never laid eyes on before today. A woman most folks had assumed was dead, himself included.