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He heard another thud and picked up his pace. When he reached the shed, Grace had an oar to a man’s neck and he was bound to a rickety chair.
“Who are you?” she asked with more force than he’d heard from her before.
The man in the chair was about Hollis’s height. Two-eighty. Military haircut. Hardened ice-blue eyes and defiance all over his clean-shaven face. Maybe mid-to late-twenties.
“Grace?” When Grace turned her head, she had the look of a hungry wolf. Teeth bared, wild eyes. Who was this woman?
“What?” she demanded with an edge in her voice.
A soft answer turneth away wrath.
The proverb swept through his mind. “Hey,” he whispered. “I just want to know what’s going on. Are you all right?”
Suddenly it was like a fog cleared in her eyes. She dropped the paddle and backed away as if she’d terrified herself.
“Go ahead,” the man said. “Do what you do best, lapdog. You won’t get anything out of me.” He laughed and Hollis assessed him. He was breakable. Still young. Tough. But he could be forced to talk. Hollis had no plans to try it. This wasn’t war, but Grace’s life was at stake. Had Hollis not shown up when he had, Grace may have tried to break the man, and she probably would have succeeded.
“I—I have no... I don’t even—” Grace rushed from the shed, sprinting across the yard.
Hollis turned to Crewcut. “Why did you call Mad Max a lapdog? You know she does what she wants when she wants. Or are you the lapdog sent to fetch her? Never actually seen her up close have you?” Hollis grinned, hoping his acting skills worked. If he could use the nickname and pretend as if he knew who she was, then this guy might slip up and give him another clue. And if Crewcut knew she was a lapdog, and if doing what she did best implied—he swallowed—torture, then this kid had severely underestimated Grace, which made him stupid or he knew her only by reputation—Mad Max. Maybe.
“Max is as good as dead.”
So he knew her nickname. Was it just Peter who called her that? Did this guy know Peter—or Peter’s real identity? Had he been the one to kill him?
“You hear me, dead. Whether or not she gives us the doctor.”
The temptation to throttle this guy was intense. He kept threatening Grace and no one was going to touch her. To keep his civility—even though this guy deserved a beating—Hollis exited the shed and chased after Grace. Then they’d figure out what to do with this guy. He wasn’t going anywhere, considering Grace’s skill with knots.
She stood by the water’s edge at the creek, her arms folded as she rubbed her upper arms. “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was terrified and fighting for my life and then it’s like everything went dark. A switch flipped and before I realized it, I had him tied to a chair. I have no idea what I would have done had you not shown up.” She faced him, tears in her eyes. “I think I’m a really bad person who’s done unspeakable things.”
Hollis closed the distance between them in three strides, pulling her to him in an embrace. “Grace, you don’t know anything for sure and no matter what you did in the past, that’s not who you are now. You’re that new creation, remember? In Christ. I see the way you care about people and are kind. Whatever happened back there...that isn’t who you are.” But when her memories surfaced, she might want more than this simple small-town life regardless of who she’d been. She might have loved ones—a romantic loved one—who had been searching for her.
“I know who I feel like most days, but lately... I’m scared, Hollis. For my life. For what my past holds. I’m afraid for you. You didn’t ask to be thrown into this. Your life is in danger by being associated with me. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”
Warmth flooded him. Grace cared about him and his safety. That concern... He couldn’t even remember the last time someone cared for him so tenderly. Not since Mom died. Tish—she was like a mom, but it wasn’t the same. Grace... He couldn’t go there. “You’re a good friend, Grace. And friends help one another.”
She pulled away and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her long-sleeve T-shirt. “Yeah. Friends.” She sniffed and pointed toward the shed. “What do we do with him? He isn’t going to talk.”
“He would. Eventually. If we did what it would take. But I’m not going to. And neither are you. Let’s call Sheriff Freeman and he can decide.” Cord would be more curious about how a woman who was five foot six and didn’t come close to Crewcut’s weight class had subdued the hefty dude. Hollis was frightened of her capabilities, and thoroughly impressed.
They entered the shed. Crewcut was gone. Somehow he’d gotten out of the ropes. Hollis’s pulse pounded. “Get inside.” They had no idea where he was or if he had weapons stashed nearby. Hollis pulled his weapon from his ankle holster and covering Grace, they sprinted inside the training facility. Grace paced Hollis’s office.
“Do you think he’s the guy who shot Peter? Who shot at us at the river?” She gnawed her thumbnail. She was an absolute mess.
“Maybe. I can’t say for sure. But he didn’t bat an eye when I called you Mad Max.” Hollis told her his conversation. “Which means he has some connection with Peter. I don’t believe he’s ever had personal contact with you before now. I wish I knew how the pieces fit.” He’d give it another try. Hope she’d open up to him. Hollis couldn’t blame her if she wanted to keep some of her memories private, but... “Grace, would you tell me about the memory you had when you dropped the coffee pot? It could be relevant.”
She halted pacing and faced away from him. “I was with Peter. I think we may have been at a special event. He...he kissed me, and I was wearing an engagement ring.”
Hollis’s gut twisted. Grace and Peter more than likely had been a couple. Possibly engaged or married. All this time he’d been afraid she belonged to someone. Looked like to Peter. And she’d witnessed his murder. When her memories returned there would be grief even if Peter had betrayed her. “Do you know where you were in the memory?”
She refused to face him. Hollis slowly rounded his desk and laid his hands on her shoulders. “Grace, you are beautiful and bright. You were bound to have been in a relationship. I’m sorry you can’t remember it, and I’m sorry you had to see him like that.”
She finally turned. “You always know what to say. Always kind and thinking of others first. I wish I were that person.”
He cradled her cheeks. “You are.”
“I don’t know, Hollis. What if I become that awful person again? What if I want to when—if—my memory comes back?” She covered her eyes with the heel of her hands. “What if I can’t deal with everything I’ve done?”
He held her close and kissed the top of her head. “You can choose who you want to be. And we don’t know that you were a bad person. You could be a US Marshal. A soldier. A former soldier.”
“Or I could be an assassin.”
There was also that. But Hollis didn’t want to go down that road or what it would mean when she had total recall. Because that would make her a criminal. A murderer.
And that would mean she’d have to go to prison.
FOUR
After they had contacted Sheriff Freeman and waited on him to arrive to take more statements, Grace had sat at the kitchen table at the Muddy River Inn sipping a cup of hazelnut coffee with heavy cream and staring at the sunshiny walls.
Nothing inside felt sunshiny.
Outside the rain had continued to steadily fall. Hollis and Grace had checked the levee right after they finished with the sheriff. It was rising pretty fast. Hollis seemed to think it would hold—if the rain slowed in the next couple of days.
Didn’t seem like it would. Not according to the National Weather Service radar. Grace had kept a close eye on it. Weather changes fascinated her. Had they always? Weather—while predictable most times—could change suddenly, and for the worst. Then as quickly become calm and peaceful. It reminded Grace of how fast her anger had set in when she’d been attacked. Like a wild rage. Where did that kind of temper come from? What had she done and whom did she hurt when it burst out of her in the past?
At the moment, she was anxious and afraid. Coffee probably wasn’t the best choice. Tish entered the kitchen, a friendly smile but concerned eyes trained on Grace. “How are you feeling, hon?”
“Like a roller coaster of emotions.”
“None of this is a surprise to God, you know.” Tish poured herself a cup of coffee. “I don’t know why He’s allowing it. I don’t know what good will come from it. But I do know that His Word says He works everything out for good,” she touched Grace’s hand, “for those who love and trust Him.”
Grace did love God. And she did trust Him—to bring back her memory, to protect her now. Just seemed like He was a bit slow at the moment. She could have used her memories ages ago. “Thank you, Tish. I know Hollis feels like the inn is relatively secure—more secure than my own home because of how public it is, but you might be safer if I find somewhere else to stay.”
“Nonsense. Hollis knows best. And family stick together—that’s what we are in my eyes, Grace.”
Grace wasn’t sure what she’d do without Tish. Had Grace’s mother loved her and cared for her like Tish was now? In her daydreams, she’d been part of a loving, happy family. She’d had a fluffy dog and even a horse. But who knew what Grace’s childhood had been like. Why didn’t her parents reach out to find her? Or had they? Were they?
The door opened and Hollis dripped on the welcome mat. “I have seen enough rain to last me a lifetime. How do people make it in Seattle?” He slipped off his raincoat and hung it on the hook by the door. After wiping his hiking boots on the mat, he headed straight for the coffee pot. “This smells like your foo-foo brew.”
Tish snorted. “It’s hazelnut and you’re welcome to decline a cup.” She winked at Grace and pushed open the door from the kitchen to the inn’s dining area. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“You are the best, Tish.”
“And don’t you forget it.” She clicked her tongue a couple of times and bustled into the dining area.
Hollis poured his cup and sipped. “Not bad.”
“For foo-foo brew,” she chuckled.
“The area is secure. I went over the details with Cord. He’s going to have a deputy drive by every forty-five minutes to an hour. He even offered for you to bunk in his guest room.” A divot formed in the middle of his brow. “Wasn’t that nice of him?”
Grace hid her smile behind her mug. “It was. I guess you turned that offer down.”
“I can protect you just fine. I don’t think seclusion is smart at this point.”
“I’m afraid causalities may arise if we stay in a public place.” Whoever was after her wasn’t going to stop.
“They don’t seem to want to cause too much of a ruckus, minus dropping Peter Rainey in your home—but they kept to the shadows.”
“One shot. Gone. Vanished.” She had to agree on that point with Hollis. “I can’t stay in the inn 24/7, though. If I’m stuck here, I’ll feel caged, and somehow, I am certain that will not bode well for me. Or you.”
Hollis raised an eyebrow and sipped his brew. “I believe you. We’ll do what we can and be cautious. I think Cord will work with us—or you. And when we aren’t trying to discover who is after you, we’ll deal with this weather. If it floods...don’t expect sleep anytime soon. We’ll be rescuing folks—and even pets—left and right.”
“Let’s pray it doesn’t come to that.”
“I am. Believe me, I am.”
Grace finished her cup and snagged a notepad off the kitchen desk and a silver pen from Tish’s rooster-shaped pen holder.
“Whatcha doin’?” Hollis asked.
“I’m going to write down what I do know.” She scribbled her notes, which included two possible sets of people coming after her, the information she’d gleaned from Peter and her vague memory of him as well as who Dr. Sayer probably was based off what they’d learned from CCM.
Making a second column, she began listing the possibilities of Grace’s identity. Soldier, former soldier, US Marshal, a protected witness, a doctor or someone in the medical field. Then she listed the more unsavory ideas.
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