Fatal Recall

He fell into step beside her. “I’m trying to help you. Do you have a name?”

She studied his face, as if the answer would somehow be there. What she found were piercing green eyes under a head of soft brown hair and a square jaw covered by a day’s worth of stubble. Not a single hint as to her identity.

She shook her head. “I’m sure I do. I just can’t remember what it is right now.”

He stopped to stare at her. “You’re serious.” Whatever doubt she’d seen had turned to concern. “What about ID?”

She patted her pockets. Nothing in her jeans pockets, front or back. One jacket pocket was empty. The other... She pulled out a small wooden box, rectangular in shape. It looked handmade, with perfectly cut pieces of wood joined together, a polished patchwork of varying shades.

She turned it over. A minuscule crack circled the longer sides, close to the end. A seam between pieces of wood? Or the edges of a drawer? She tugged at it, then frowned. If it was a drawer, it wasn’t budging.

Tanner held out a hand. “Let me try. It’s probably swollen from getting wet.”

She handed him the box, then stood next to him while he pried and pulled. Finally, he’d worked it open enough to look inside. It was empty, except for some bits of dried leaves. Tobacco?

Tanner brought it to his nose, and his brows knit. When she gave it her own test, a knot formed in her stomach. It wasn’t tobacco. It was pot.

She shook her head. “This isn’t mine.”

Tanner cocked a brow. He didn’t believe her.

Of course not. How could she know she didn’t smoke pot when every memory had been wiped clean? She didn’t have an answer for how she knew, just that she did. “I don’t know why I have this, but I can guarantee you if this box held joints, they weren’t mine.” She frowned. “I have some pretty strong emotions right now, and they’re not good.”

She took what he held and closed the drawer. “Whoever the box belonged to, I’m keeping it.” She slid her hand over the varnished surface, then slipped the item back into her pocket. “This is all I’ve got. Nothing that offers any hint about who I am.”

A chill ripped through her, and a shudder shook her shoulders. He stepped closer to run his hands briskly up and down her arms. “I hope it’s just the wet clothes and you’re not going into shock. We need to get you to a doctor, pronto.”

He took her hand and resumed walking, his gait stiff but fast. “We’ll veer to the left, then double back. We should be able to avoid whoever is after you but still reach the highway.”

She nodded. She had no idea where they were. Ever since her panic subsided enough to think straight, she’d tried to recall the last thing that had happened. An hour later, she still couldn’t remember. And her head felt as if someone had clamped it into a vise.

Whether or not she was in shock, she was freezing. Her drenched jeans leached warmth from her body with every step, and her wet jacket flopped against her torso, pounding the chill deeper.

It wasn’t going to get better. The sun was resting too low to dry clothes or warm bodies. They probably had less than an hour of daylight left. If they didn’t make it out soon, they’d be spending the night in the woods. Another shiver passed through her.

He squeezed her hand, and she gave him a shaky smile. “Thank you for everything. I hate to think what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come along.”

“I’m glad I was there.”

She cast him another glance. “What did you mean by ‘the eighth round’?”

“I was counting the shots. There was a gap after the first eight, then another gap after the next eight. Whoever is after you is using a pistol with a magazine that holds eight cartridges. After the eighth shot, he’d have to refill cartridges or at least change magazines.”

Another shot sounded, and bark exploded from a tree not six feet away. She bit off the scream that leaped up her throat.

Tanner broke into a run, pulling her with him. If their original path took them farther from civilization, so did this one, because they were headed in roughly the same direction. Her hopes of making it out before dark died a quick and sure death.

They crested a ridge and made a diagonal path down the other side. Without slowing, they climbed another slope, then descended, adjusting direction again. The sun sank lower and the shadows lengthened.

Tanner stopped and pulled her down behind a fallen tree. “I think we lost him again.”

She sucked in several gulps of air. “I hope you’re right.”

Their pursuer had firepower, but she and Tanner had agility and stamina. At least Tanner did. Whatever stamina she had was fading fast.

She looked over his shoulder, where the sun had dipped behind the trees sometime ago. Overhead, the sky had darkened to gray blue. Soon it would turn to navy, then black.

He followed her gaze. “We shouldn’t wander around in the dark. There are thousands of acres of forest out here.”

Her chest tightened. Spending the night alone in the woods with a strange man couldn’t be smart, no matter how nice he seemed. Besides, now that the sun was going down, the temperature was dropping, and she was already cold. But Tanner was right.

He pulled a flattened granola bar from his pocket. “Dinner. I’ll share it with you.” He removed it from the wrapper, and when he’d split it, he gave her the larger piece.

Her stomach rumbled. “I’m sure it’ll be the best granola bar I’ve ever eaten.” She hesitated. Did she actually remember eating a granola bar? Could she recall any sensory experiences? No, she couldn’t. She heaved a sigh. How would she ever function as an independent adult if she couldn’t call up something as simple as having a snack?

She shook off the concerns. Only a few hours had passed since she’d hit her head. She needed to give it time. She broke off a small piece of the bar and put it in her mouth, savoring it before swallowing. If she spread it out, maybe it would fill her up.

A few seconds later, Tanner brushed his empty hands together. His portion was gone in two bites. She shouldn’t have accepted the larger half.

“Have some of this.”

“I’m fine.” He patted his stomach. “That totally hit the spot.”

“You’re lying.” She split what she had left and held out her hand. “Take it.”

“You need to keep up your strength.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Rest while I try to find a semiprotected place to spend the night.”

After watching him walk away, she took another bite. Even breaking it into small pieces, the bar went too fast and came nowhere near filling the empty hole in her stomach. She’d eaten almost twice what Tanner had. He must be starving.

Gratitude welled up inside her, thankfulness toward Tanner and whatever force had sent him to her. The chance of anyone finding her before her attempted killer was slim to none. The odds of someone like Tanner finding her were closer to the “none” side. She was really lucky.

Not lucky, blessed.

Where had that thought come from? She apparently had some kind of religious background. She searched her mind, trying to pull out some snatch of memory.

Nothing. If the index cards were there, they were all blank.

She rubbed her arms through the damp fabric of the jacket. The temperature seemed to be dropping by the minute. What she wouldn’t give for a set of dry clothes.

Leaving her arms crossed in front of her, she rested her head against an upward-jutting branch and closed her eyes. Now that the immediate danger was over, fatigue was setting in. She could use a nap almost as much as a change of clothes.

The rhythmic crunch of footsteps in dried leaves brought her fully alert. Tanner was twenty feet in front of her, closing the distance. Relief flitted across his features. “You looked like you’d fallen asleep.”

She matched his soft tone. “Almost. I only needed another couple of minutes. Along with a warm blanket.”

“I wish I could help with the blanket. But you probably shouldn’t sleep. I’m no doctor, but I know when someone has a head injury, you’re supposed to keep them awake.”

She frowned. “For how long?”

“Since I don’t know, we’ll go with ‘as long as possible.’”

“Great.”

“The good news is, I think I know how to keep us somewhat warm for the night.”

He held out a hand, and she let him pull her to her feet. After leading her a short distance away, he pointed. The ground sloped upward on each side, with a trough between. A good-size tree had fallen and lay across it at a sharp angle.

“We can burrow in under that dead hemlock. There’s already a thick bed of leaves. Since it hasn’t rained, it’s nice and dry. I’ll gather branches to block us in the rest of the way and keep out any unwanted guests.”

She almost asked him what he meant by “unwanted guests,” then decided she’d rather not know.

“We’ve also got water. Listen.”

She lifted her chin. Behind the rustle of leaves and buzz of insects, a trickle reached her from somewhere in the distance.

When they arrived at the little creek, she dropped to her knees. The water was cold and tasted so good. Too many hours had passed since she’d finished the bottle Tanner had given her.

After drinking their fill, they headed back. She helped him gather limbs, then watched as he positioned them, leaving a single opening protected by one of the hemlock’s branches. He completed the last of the work by moonlight. When he finished, her teeth were chattering.

“Let’s get you out of this night air.”

She dropped to her hands and knees, then crawled downhill to the trough. It was narrow, just wide enough for a single body. But it was plenty long enough to allow a respectable distance between them.

After choosing the space to the left, she stretched out on her back and nestled into the leaves. Moonlight shone through the branches overhead in tiny geometric shapes. It wasn’t any warmer inside than outside, but getting out of the nighttime breeze helped. Even the hard ground wasn’t that uncomfortable. Knowing Tanner, he’d probably added some extra cushion. But it was still going to be a long damp night. She crossed her arms over her torso, trying to ward off the chill.

As Tanner maneuvered his body into the shelter, alarms went off. She struggled to silence them. If any man deserved trust, Tanner did. But trust didn’t come easily in her current state. Maybe it didn’t come easily in her normal state, either.

“Are you warm enough?” His voice sounded close.

“Better.”

Still in a crawling position, he gathered some smaller hemlock branches he’d cut previously and reached over her head to lay them across her torso.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. If there’s anything else I can do, let me know.”

“Other than the blanket.”

“Other than the blanket.” His tone held a smile. Leaves crinkled and dried twigs cracked as he positioned himself a few feet away. There was nothing solid between them, but he was giving her space. A true gentleman.

She smiled into the darkness. “You did good today. What are you anyway? Ex-military? Survivalist? Former Boy Scout?”

He laughed. “None of the above. Why?”

“The way you’ve handled everything. Evading the bad guy. Getting us to safety. Putting this together. I’m impressed.” She shook her head. “I mean, who thinks to count rounds when they’re being shot at?”

He gave another soft chuckle. “I’m a cop, and I have a lot of outdoor hobbies.”

She lifted her brows, her interest piqued. “What kind of hobbies?”

“Camping, hiking, canoeing, kayaking. And some other activities that aren’t so tame.”

“Like what?”

“Rock climbing, sandboarding, parasailing, white-water rafting. Class five, of course. There’s a group of four of us—three of us that do adventures together once or twice a year.”

“Three of you now?” She grinned. “Did you lose one?”

“We’ve got a backpacking trip planned for Colorado this summer, probably just Bryce and me. Colton’s occupied these days with a wife and kid.”

She frowned. He’d continued without acknowledging her question. Maybe something terrible really had happened to the fourth guy.

He proceeded to relay some of his experiences. Finally, he stopped. “I’m sorry, I’m monopolizing the conversation.”

“That’s okay. What consists of my life story right now, you’ve witnessed. So talk on.”

She enjoyed listening to him. His tales were interesting, his voice soothing, with a liquid smoothness and rich timbre. As he talked, her thoughts grew more random, and she drifted on the fringes of oblivion.

Tanner paused. “Hey, you’re not falling asleep, are you?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She didn’t open her eyes.

“Seriously. Wake up.”

She forced her eyes open. “Are you going to keep me awake all night?”

“I’m going to try.”

That probably wasn’t a bad idea. She needed to stay alert. For all she knew Tanner could be an ax murderer.

That’s not what she felt, though. The vibes she got from him were all positive.

But who was she to make that determination?

How could she trust her gut when she couldn’t even remember who she was?

TWO

The air was cold and damp. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get warm.

She drew her legs up, curling into a fetal position. It didn’t help. The damp chill had permeated every cell. When she reached for her comforter, her fingers wrapped around a stick.

She came awake with a gasp. A hand clamped down hard on her mouth, pinching off her nose at the same time. Her heart stopped, then kick-started in triple time.

Her eyes adjusted to the semidarkness of the room. Someone leaned over her, his head silhouetted against the speckled backdrop of the ceiling.

Tanner. His lips were compressed as if to shush her, but no sound came out.

Footfalls sounded a short distance away. The events of the prior day slammed into her with the force of a tidal wave. If not for the hand clamped over her mouth, she’d have sucked in another gasp.

Tanner apparently recognized awareness in her eyes, because he slowly removed his hand.

The footsteps crunched closer, the tread heavy. “I know you’re here somewhere. I heard you.”

A heavy silence fell. The guy had stopped, probably studying his surroundings. Had she and Tanner left evidence of their presence? Broken limbs? Trampled underbrush?

God, please don’t let him find us.

The spontaneous prayer brought her up short. Did she have that kind of relationship with God, where she could send up a silent plea and expect to get an answer?

Maybe not. A panicked prayer in a moment of duress didn’t mean anything.

The man started moving again. “You might as well give up. I’m gonna find you.” He walked away and circled back, approaching on the other side. Then the footsteps retreated.

She lay stock-still for what seemed like forever, scarcely daring to breathe. Finally, Tanner crept from their bunker. When she crawled out behind him, he was looking around, eyes alert. A shiver shook her shoulders. What she could see of the sky to her right looked a little lighter than the rest, but it would be some time before the sun traveled high enough to warm the air.

Tanner looked down at her. “He’s gone.”

She expelled a breath. Thank You. Wherever the answer had come from, someone deserved the recognition.

“It sounded like he headed toward the river.” Tanner was still whispering. “I’m hoping he’s given up looking for us. When we get back to civilization, we’ll figure out our next step.”

She nodded. He’d said “we.” Maybe he didn’t plan to dump her at the nearest hospital or police department.

“Are you thirsty?”

“And hungry.” She gave him a weak smile. “I don’t suppose you have another squished granola bar hiding anywhere.”

“’Fraid not.”

As she followed him toward the creek, she cast repeated glances over her shoulder. As long as the shooter didn’t double back, they should be all right.

“I’d promise you a steak dinner tonight but I’m afraid the fare is going to be hospital cuisine. They’re going to want to run tests, probably keep you overnight.”

Though she didn’t look forward to a hospital stay, having her memory wiped out was disconcerting enough to go along with whatever Tanner suggested.

He stepped to the side to walk next to her. “Have you remembered anything since yesterday?”

“Nothing. But I woke up this morning.” Tanner’s concerns about her falling into a concussion-induced coma were for naught. Until that final stretch before dawn, her sleep had been too fitful. Besides being cold, she couldn’t find a good position. The ground had seemed harder with every passing hour.

He picked up a stick and broke a piece off its end. “You need a name.”

“Any ideas?”

He walked in silence, his expression thoughtful. “You don’t look like a Sarah or a Millie or a Priscilla.”

“Why not?”

“Those names are too...” His voice trailed off as he struggled to come up with the right adjective.

“Soft and feminine?”

He winced.

“It’s okay. I’m wearing jeans, hiking boots and a messy braid. I don’t look like a Priscilla.”

“So no soft names.” He broke off another piece of the stick he held and tossed it. “You need something strong—something implying athleticism, competence, self-sufficiency.”

She quirked a brow, not sure how he came up with the last two descriptors. She’d have been in a pickle without him. But since she’d eluded her assailant until knocking herself unconscious, she had to have some level of competence.

They reached the creek, and she knelt next to it. “How about Katrina?”

He loomed over her, wiggling his brows. It didn’t matter what he called her. Anything they came up with would be temporary until someone identified her or she regained her memory.

“You don’t look like a Katrina.” He dropped down next to her. “Or maybe you do. Kat for short.”

“Alrighty, then. I guess I’m Kat.” She didn’t feel any connection to the name. Of course, she didn’t expect to.

After sipping several scoops of water, they straightened. Her stomach growled, and she pressed a hand to her waistline. Judging from the condition of the trees, it was early spring. Not the time of year to find edible berries.

She stood and let her gaze follow the meandering creek. A short way down on the opposite bank, spots of yellow stood out against patches of green.

She moved that direction, picking up speed as she got closer. She’d been right. A patch of dandelions grew alongside the water.

“Kat?” Tanner’s footsteps sounded behind her.

She stepped onto a rock in the middle of the creek. A second step put her on the opposite bank. “Breakfast.”

“What?”

She indicated the plants with a wave of her arm. “It’s not bacon and scrambled eggs, but it should help to curb the hunger.”

After plucking several blooms and a handful of leaves, she tried one of each. The slight crunch and sweetness of the flower blended with the earthy, bitter taste of the greens.

Tanner watched her with his eyebrows drawn together, his lips in a straight line. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

“Positive. Ever heard of dandelion tea?”

“Yeah, but parts of some plants are poisonous.”

“Not dandelion.” She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she did. “Come and get some.”

Tanner continued to watch her, doubt radiating from him. She understood. She couldn’t expect him to trust his life to her ability to identify edible wild plants when she couldn’t remember her own name. She couldn’t explain it herself. Some knowledge was still accessible, but her experiences were exiled to a remote island in her brain, the bridge to access it blown to smithereens.

Finally, Tanner crossed the creek to pick some dandelions for himself. He chewed and swallowed his first bite. “Hmm, like salad for breakfast.”

When they’d had their fill, Tanner knelt for another drink, then straightened. “I think the bad guy’s way ahead of us, but we’ll keep our eyes and ears open.”

She stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets, still slightly damp from yesterday’s swim. Her right hand found the box, and she pulled it out. It didn’t stir her memory any better than it had before.

“Other than the clothes I’m wearing, this is the only thing connecting me to my past, as shaky as that connection is.” The box probably didn’t even belong to her.

Tanner nodded. “It’s good you’re keeping it. It might help trigger your memory.”

“I agree.” She slid the box back into her pocket and looked beyond Tanner, where the sun worked its way upward in a hazy sky.

“We’re north of Highway 19. If we head south, we should reach it eventually.”

She set out walking beside him. “What about your kayak?”

“It’s actually my friend’s. The shooter might be waiting for us, so I’ll get it later with a police escort.”

“That’s a good—” Her sentence ended in a squeak as her ankle twisted with a sharp crack. Pain shot halfway up her leg.

Tanner’s quick reflexes kept her from falling. “Are you okay?”

She tested her weight. It was painful, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

Tanner led her to a downed tree. “Sit here while I look for a walking stick.”

“That’ll delay us. I’ll be fine.”

“Since the guy with the gun is somewhere ahead of us, this’ll put more distance between us and him.”

She lowered herself to the rough bark and watched Tanner circle the area, picking up and discarding sticks. Finally, he found one that suited his purposes.

He pulled something from his pocket, too thick to be a pocketknife. Instead, the metal case held an array of gadgets. He selected a blade and spent several minutes slicing off small limbs and whittling a smooth grip area. Finally, he stood and tested it.

“Here you go.”

She pulled herself to her feet. “This is awesome. Thank you.”

“It was a piece of cake with my handy little multi-tool.” He raised the mentioned item, blade still extended.

As she stared at the object, a memory stirred. A man flew backward, cracking his head on the concrete sidewalk. His assailant leaped on top of him, one hand splayed on his chest, the other holding a switchblade at his throat. Blood beaded along the razor-sharp edge, and the man’s eyes held the terror of someone looking death in the face.

“Kat? Are you okay?” Tanner’s voice sounded far away.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the image to disappear.

“Tell me what you see.”

She swallowed the bile pushing its way up her throat. “A knife. Someone being attacked.”

“Do you know who?”

She tried to focus. The man was thin and wiry, clad in a tank-style undershirt, tattoos marking his arms, neck and chest. If he was someone she knew, memories of him were buried with the rest of her past.

“All I saw was a brief flash—the man, the knife.” And the hand holding it.

“Is it possible you witnessed a murder and that’s why someone is after you?”

She gave a jerky nod. “Maybe.”

What Tanner said was possible. Even logical.

But that wasn’t what happened. She was sure of it.

Because the hand holding the knife had been her own.

* * *

Tanner put the multi-tool away and slipped a palm under her left elbow. Her face had lost three shades of color.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

The quick bob of her head wasn’t convincing. The fact that she was already recovering her memory was good. The shock it gave her wasn’t.

She set out walking, favoring her right ankle, and he fell into step beside her.

“If you need to stop, let me know.”

“Thanks, but the stick helps. I’m anxious to get out of these woods.” Her eyes held hesitation. “Where will you be taking me?”

“Bryson City. The police department, then the hospital.” He’d studied a map of the area, and it was the nearest town. In fact, the Nantahala Outdoor Center had a Bryson City address.