Chapter 17
17
Remi paced the waiting room.
“You won’t see death coming.”
She got it now. Dangerous forces were closing in. And Hawk Beckett—the stranger who’d stepped into her life, pulling her from certain death, sending her attacker fleeing twice now—was connected. Just how connected was he exactly? Because he’d been the one to trigger her memories.
He’d explained that someone had suggested he would find the answers at Cedar Trails Lodge. And now he realized the answers had to do with Cole Mercer? There was so much more to that story. Whoever had sent him here could very well know what Remi had forgotten.
Whatever was going on, Remi was freaking out.
Lots of people sat around, waiting for care. A hurt wrist, a twisted ankle, bruises and cuts, and who knew what else. A few people wore masks and coughed. The flu? The place was busting at the seams, and they could be here all night. At least Hawk had already been taken back.
God, what am I going to do? Help me find a way out of this.
Besides the sheriff’s department, who else could she call? The FBI or some other government agency? The only person she had trusted with her limited knowledge of events was Dr. Holcomb. She’d trusted Hawk. Briefly and on and off. And she still wanted to trust him.
She had to steel herself against the lumberjack with the stormy blue eyes, ignore his protective demeanor and how it warmed her insides. Maybe he affected her like this because she’d been alone far too long. But it was hard to forget that he’d been a helicopter pilot in the Army and then an aviation county deputy. He’d been a hero. No doubt about it. And then he’d stepped into her life and been her personal hero. She couldn’t forget that either, but maybe she should. If she were checking things off a list, well, Hawk would be a stand-up citizen. But he showed up at a suspicious time, and now his reasons for being here were also suspicious.
She kept pacing. Chewed her thumbnail. She stopped and stared at the nail. Since when did she bite her nails? So, things had finally come to this.
I have to figure this out.
She’d told him he had to check out of the lodge and leave. She needed space from him, even though he’d triggered memories, but he brought his own brand of trouble with him, and did she really need more?
Once she rid herself of Hawk, she’d head to see Dr. Holcomb. What could be so bad that she’d hidden it from herself? So bad that an assassin had been sent to kill her?
He wasn’t all that good or she would already be dead. Then again, maybe Hawk was right and he liked to play with his victims. But why? That could send them into hiding or into protection. That could warn them they were in danger and make his job that much more difficult or challenging. Maybe Cole Mercer liked the game. He wanted to up the ante because killing Remi was no challenge for him at all.
Hawk had been wrong. Cole wanted her to see death coming. He wanted her to expect it, to fear it and brace for it, and that would make her murder that much more satisfying for him.
What was with all the morbid thoughts? What do I do? Where do I go?
Lord, shine the light in the hidden places of my heart. What could be so bad that I’ve hidden it from myself? You know. You can see it. Help me to see it before it’s too late.
Remi kept her eyes closed and tried to calm her heart and thoughts. So, they now knew who had attacked her and maybe had an inkling of the why. But had the attacker also sent the puzzle pieces, as if two pieces of an image she couldn’t decipher would make her remember before it was too late? No. More pieces had to be on the way. Once she had the whole picture, then maybe she would know what this was about. What if the attacks on her were a sordid effort to jog her memory? No. She doubted Cole the assassin would bother.
She was overthinking it.
Exhausted was too weak a description for how she felt as she rubbed her eyes.
She opened them to see Hawk emerging through the swinging doors. He strode toward her, then paused before approaching. Hesitating, he held her gaze. Fearing what she might do or say?
Maybe he didn’t deserve the glare she gave him. He’d been there to help her, after all, and that alone could come across as suspicious. As if he deliberately inserted himself into those situations so she would trust him. With that, she knew she was reaching far and deep to try to push him away.
I don’t know what to think, Lord.
With a resigned look, he closed the distance, and she stood, bracing herself. He said nothing. Waiting for her?
Sure, she could start this awkward conversation. “I guess you’re okay if they’re letting you go.”
“I’m good. Thank you for bringing me all this way. I know you probably don’t feel like taking me back.”
She shrugged. “My feelings are the least of my worries. Our worries. I don’t understand your role in all this. It seems...”
“Fishy. I get it. I wouldn’t trust me either.” He glanced behind him at the hospital staffer clicking away at the computer to check in another patient. A woman with a young boy had come into the emergency department.
Hawk leaned closer. “Can we get out of here? We can hash through next steps while we drive.”
Remi said nothing but instead headed out the doors. “Did they give you a prescription or anything we need to get filled?”
“They gave me a prescription, but I don’t want to be fuzzy, so I’m not getting it filled.”
“Suit yourself.” She unlocked the Bronco, yawning. She’d need to grab coffee at a drive-through. Before they could get into the Bronco, a county SUV drove up and parked next to them. Sheriff Thatcher and Deputy Hunter both got out and faced them. She’d seen the sheriff’s picture on the county website, so she easily recognized him.
Remi’s heart rate spiked. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
Deputy Hunter held her hand over her weapon as she approached, striking a chord of terror through Remi. She sensed the moment Hawk stiffened behind her.
“What is this?” he asked.
“Ms. Grant.” The sheriff nodded. “Deputy Hunter told me what’s happened. I came to see you myself. Knew you’d be at the Woodhaven emergency department and called to check. Seems you’re in danger and we need to offer you protective custody until this is resolved.”
“Protective...” She glanced at Hawk. “Uh. I don’t know if that’s necessary.”
What would that look like exactly? The only way to end this was to find answers, to remember, and to talk to Dr. Holcomb. Now she had to admit, she needed to keep Hawk close because he was connected. She doubted being hidden away at a safe house was going to get her anywhere. She’d already gone into hiding at Cedar Trails Lodge. She wasn’t going to run anymore.
“Maybe we can talk at the county offices.” The sheriff eyed Hawk. Was that dislike and suspicion in his eyes? Or was Remi imagining it? Was that recognition too? “And you too, Mr. Beckett.”
“Uh, okay,” she said. “We’ll follow you.” The county seat was about a half hour from Woodhaven.
No harm in finding out what Sheriff Thatcher had in mind. She stifled a yawn again. She might not be thinking clearly enough right now to handle this. Her exhaustion could be adding to her paranoia, but this didn’t feel right. It felt like much more than the sheriff and his deputy simply wanting to put her in protective custody at three thirty in the morning. They were working around the clock apparently. But assumptions and conjecture would get her nowhere.
“You look exhausted. Both of you. You can ride with me,” the sheriff said. “Deputy Hunter will drive your Bronco.” He spoke in a tone that brooked no argument.
A chill crawled over Remi that had nothing to do with the cold and rain.
She reached for her keys and fingered them in her coat pocket as she took a step forward. “Have you learned something about Cole Mercer?”
Sheriff Thatcher looked like he’d been working straight through since the storms started. “We’re working on it. As soon as Deputy Hunter shared the information with me, I decided we needed to talk more. I have questions, and I’d like to work out protection for you.”
Remi had caught a glimpse of Hawk, but she wouldn’t look at him more than that. His expression told her nothing, and that was unusual for him, at least what she knew of him.
Sheriff Thatcher opened the door to the back seat. “Please, get in.”
The sheriff wasn’t asking.