DEADLY MEMORIES
Chapter One
Run. Run. Run.
She pulled herself from the muddy river water, swiping wet hair from her eyes.
After a quick frantic look behind her, she scrambled up the edge of the riverbank and stumbled toward the dubious protection of the woods.
Leaves slapped at her face, branches and twigs scratching her limbs.
Her sopping-wet clothes were plastered uncomfortably to her body.
Water sluiced from her frame leaving foot-sized puddles in her wake.
Run! Run! Run!
Her head pounded painfully with every step.
With every frantic beat of her heart. The pain was so bad she could barely think.
Her deepest survival instinct forced her to keep moving.
She couldn’t stop. Not until she was safe.
Would she ever be safe? The tip of her running shoe that had miraculously stayed on despite her swim down the river snagged a tree root, throwing her off balance.
Arms flailing, she managed to grasp a low-hanging tree branch to keep from planting face first onto the forest floor.
Staggering like a drunken sailor, she fought to regain her footing.
She needed somewhere to hide. A secure place they wouldn’t find her. A sob broke free from her tight throat, but she didn’t stop or slow down.
Run! Run! Run!
Towering trees cloaked the sky. The sun was going down fast, the way it always did this late in the day. She’d be encased in darkness soon. That was both a blessing and a curse. But she didn’t fear the wildlife in the woods the way she abhorred the men hot on her trail. She needed to hide.
Certain death awaited if they found her.
Minutes seemed like hours. An hour felt like a lifetime.
Her strength wanned, and her steps slowed as she searched frantically for a refuge.
She couldn’t go much farther. Her head throbbed in earnest now, and her stomach churned from the river water she’d swallowed. It was all she could do not to be sick.
Lord Jesus, help me! Save me!
A deer lifted his head as she stumbled into a clearing. The animal froze, staring at her for a long moment before he turned and leaped gracefully through the brush leaving the flicker of his white tail behind. She pushed forward, blinking in shock when she saw a cabin.
Was it real? Or her imagination?
She didn’t trust her mind, her thoughts a terrified blur, but she didn’t stop. She pushed herself toward the structure.
Until she couldn’t take another step. She collapsed on the stairs leading up to the front door. This was it. She couldn’t go any farther. Her cheek rested against the rough wood that felt real enough.
She closed her eyes and prayed for her Almighty Father to hold her close if this was to be her last moment on earth.
Hearing a muffled thump outside the cabin, Regan “Doc” Harmon jumped to his feet and reached for his weapon. Moving swiftly, he pressed his back up against the side of his living room and peered through the window at the woods.
He rarely got visitors. At least, two-legged ones. In truth, he preferred the four-legged variety.
At first, he didn’t see anything at all, then his gaze landed on what appeared to be a pile of wet clothing on his front step. Another two seconds later, he realized the clothing included a slender woman.
Even then he didn’t immediately move. During his time in Afghanistan, he’d learned not to trust anyone. Women and children included.
But this was Lexington, Kentucky. Not Afghanistan. After a long moment of watching the woman who had not moved, he decided he had to at least figure out if she had a pulse and was breathing.
It would be just his luck a woman had dropped dead on his doorstep.
Cautiously, he opened the front door, still holding his weapon at the ready. “Hey, are ya’ll okay?”
No response. A trap? He noted her clothes were muddy, wet and stained with something that looked suspiciously like blood.
“Lady, can you hear me?” Again, there wasn’t so much as an involuntary flicker of movement.
Stepping onto his porch, he glanced around the clearing to make sure she hadn’t brought company. Seeing nothing alarming, he stepped closer and lowered himself to his haunches to feel for a pulse.
Her skin was cold and clammy. His fingertips picked up the thready beat of her heart, and up close, he could see she was sopping wet from head to toe. It wasn’t raining, so he felt certain she’d been in the Kentucky River.
Had she fallen off a boat? If so, why on earth had she come so far into the woods? The river was over a mile from his cabin.
“Ma’am?” He gently shook her slender shoulder. “Can you sit up?”
Still no response. He checked for her pulse again to reassure himself she was still alive. Satisfied that his mystery woman wasn’t going to spring to her feet to slit his throat, he holstered the gun and used both hands to gently turn her over so he could see her face.
Her limp body and pale features were far from reassuring.
Shallow breaths came from her lungs, and a closer inspection revealed a jagged gash of a head injury along the side of her temple.
Likely the source of the blood stains. He couldn’t perform a proper exam out there with the dwindling twilight.
Swallowing a sigh, Doc slid his hands beneath her thin frame and picked her up. She didn’t weigh much and still didn’t move. Or regain consciousness. How bad was her head injury anyway?
Casting one last glance around the clearing, he carried her inside. Kicking the door shut behind him, he strode to the sofa and gently set her down. Water droplets splashed onto the floor, but his gaze remained focused on his patient.
He was a former army medic, not a medical doctor, but he knew enough to stabilize her until he could get her transferred to the care of professionals. Her head lolled to the side, and he studied her dainty features for a long moment.
She was pretty, despite her bedraggled appearance, and looked familiar.
Not one of his friends, but maybe someone he’d run across during one of his rare trips to town?
He couldn’t quite place how he knew her.
He gently turned her head toward him and pried one eye open to check her pupil.
Then he did the same with the other. They appeared equal and reactive, which was reassuring.
Satisfied, he stood and crossed to the bathroom to grab towels and a blanket. Her skin was still too cool to the touch for his peace of mind, and even though October was still relatively warm temperature wise, he had no way of knowing how long she’d been submerged in the river.
Hypothermia was a significant concern.
Doc rubbed the towels over her hair and clothes, then turned her to tuck the towels beneath her to absorb the excess water.
Then he placed the dry blanket over her.
When that was finished, he returned to the bathroom to pull out his medical kit.
He didn’t have a stethoscope or blood pressure gauge anymore, but he had the supplies he needed to clean and dress her head wound.
He flipped on the lamp beside the sofa for extra light.
The hour was past six in the evening, and full darkness would be upon them soon.
Her familiar face nagged at him as he worked.
Her brown hair reached her shoulders, and her clothes—despite being sopping wet—were of good quality.
They didn’t scream runaway or street person.
Her pale skin had been slightly burned by the sun, as if she wasn’t accustomed to being outdoors.
Which made it even more confusing as to how she’d arrived on his doorstep.
With a frown, he imagined someone had reported her missing by now. His plan was to take her to the hospital and let the medical staff and the police take it from there.
Because she’d been in the river, he made sure to clean her open head wound thoroughly with soap and water before lightly covering the gash with gauze. A course of antibiotics would be helpful, but he didn’t have those anymore either.
He hadn’t used his medic skills very much since their team’s disastrous exfiltration from Afghanistan five years ago. And that debacle still haunted him. There had been so many injured soldiers. And he’d barely managed to save a handful.
The rest had died. Several in his arms. Doc closed his eyes for a moment, willing the memories of those faces away.
His mystery woman let out a low moan. He opened his eyes and leaned over her. “Ma’am? Are you okay?”
Her eyelids fluttered open. She stared up at him with pale-blue eyes that were clouded with confusion. “W-where am I?”
“You collapsed on my doorstep. I live near the river, basically in the middle of nowhere.” He searched her gaze. She stared at him and at her surroundings as if she’d never been inside a cabin before.
Maybe she preferred high-end accommodations. Too bad, his rather rustic surroundings suited him just fine.
He forced a reassuring smile. “My name is Regan Harmon. Everyone calls me Doc because I was a medic in the army. What’s your name?”
Her brow furrowed, as if that was a difficult question. “I—don’t know.”
His earlier wariness returned. He wasn’t in the mood for games. “Ma’am, I am happy to take you to a hospital, but they’re going to need your name too.”
“No, please.” Sheer panic crossed her features. “No hospital. Please, I, uh, just need to rest.”
He arched a brow. “And ya’ll think I’m running some sort of bed-and-breakfast? You can rest at the hospital.”
She began to struggle in earnest now, clawing free of the blanket. “Please, don’t do this. I don’t want to leave.” She finally pulled a hand free and grasped his arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “I’m in danger.”
He arched a brow. “You don’t know your name but you know you’re in danger?”
“Yes.” She frowned. “I think so. I had to run. To hide. To escape.”
Doc wasn’t buying whatever she was attempting to sell. He eyed her warily, trying to understand her angle. His cabin was simple and functional. It didn’t scream money, so she would have no reason to target him with a scam.