Fatal Memories. Tanya Stowe
something back? Picking and choosing what to tell her about herself?
When he said no more, she released a sigh. “Maybe I’m someone I’d like if I knew me.” Her tone sounded more forlorn than she’d intended.
“Everyone likes you, Joss. You’re a good agent and a great person.”
Shaking her head, she met his gaze. “If I’m such a good agent, what was I doing in that tunnel with a payload of illegal drugs?”
* * *
Dylan was saved from answering when Holmquist walked in. Surprised at how relieved he was, he stepped away and turned to stare out the window.
Finding out why Joss was in that tunnel was the reason he was here, spending every free moment with her rather than pounding the street, searching for answers. Yes, his team of agents was on the job, and they were making breakthroughs. But he should be with them. Yet when she posed the question...gave him the perfect opportunity to start probing for answers...he backed off. Hesitated. What was wrong with him?
Holmquist reviewed the details of Joss’s release with her. She asked a few questions, a thread of fear running behind every word. She was scared and barely hanging on. That was the reason he’d stopped probing. Because he hadn’t wanted to push her into that dark hole.
But why was he hesitating now...almost feeling guilty? He glanced at Joss. In some ways she reminded him of Beth. Not so much in looks, even though they both had dark hair. But more in personality. Beth had been bright, outgoing and fun, but a thread of insecurity had run deep, pushed her in the wrong directions. She’d hungered for approval...for support from others, including Rusty. That need had led to her death.
Dylan sensed the same longing in Joss. She’d always seemed competent, sure of her work, but he’d sensed an underlying need to belong, not to be alone. And now that underlying need had come to the surface. She was completely vulnerable. Now was the time to push for answers, not to ease up.
He needed to get on course, to break those fears loose so they could get to the truth...for both their sakes. “While we wait, let me bring you up to speed.” He addressed his comments to Holmquist. “We have an initial report about those traces of chemicals we found on the support post in the mine. They definitely come from some sort of explosive. They don’t know the type yet.”
“Explosives.” Joss shook her head. “In the mine? What does that mean?”
Holmquist shot a puzzled glance in Dylan’s direction, obviously wondering why he was discussing details of the investigation in front of Joss while she was in her fragile state. But Dylan ignored him.
“It means the cave-in was deliberately set.”
Her features brightened. “Does that prove they were trying to kill me? That I’m innocent?”
Dylan shook his head. “Unfortunately no. The explosion could have been a cover-up. You could have set the explosion and been trapped.”
Now Holmquist gave him an angry frown. But Dylan ignored it. Joss was almost as passionate about her work as he was. Or at least she had seemed to be...and that was what he needed to determine. Now that she was vulnerable, the truth might come out. Had her loyalty been an act? Was she good at making them all like her? Was that her true motivation—the need to be liked, not the desire to stop crime? If that was true, she was just like his sister, and that weakness could have turned Joss away from a righteous path. She might care more about the people she loved than the law, and that love could have led her into that tunnel.
Now, with no recollection of her past, the real woman beneath the facade would come to light. With no memory to protect her, the next days would reveal Joss’s guilt...or innocence.
With his resolve renewed, he faced Holmquist. “Also, my home office can find nothing on Vibora. Nothing.”
“Vibora?”
Both men turned to Joss as her brow furrowed.
Dylan paused. “What? Do you remember something?”
Her frown deepened, almost as if it hurt to think. After a long while she shook her head. “No. Nothing. But I know what it means. Viper. Do I speak Spanish?”
She looked at Holmquist, and her expression was so full of hope, it almost hurt to see it.
He shook his head. “Just enough to get by.”
The beginnings of a smile flitted over her lips. “Then I remember it. The name means something to me.”
She looked happy that she had one memory. She didn’t realize that already knowing the leader’s gang name, when all of them had just discovered it, implicated her.
Holmquist looked at Dylan, his features grim and angry. Dylan looked away. The truth was the ultimate goal...no matter how much Holmquist didn’t want to hear it.
The captain’s radio crackled to life.
“We’ve got an intruder matching the description of the attacker. He’s on the fourth floor, headed toward the stairs.”
Joss’s room was on the fifth floor. Holmquist’s gaze darted to Dylan. Dylan was younger, faster and probably stronger. Holmquist gave Dylan a sharp nod and he dashed out the door.
As it closed behind him, Joss cried out. “Wait! Don’t go!”
Her desperate tone sent a sharp pain through him, but he pushed it aside and turned to the guard outside. “You heard the report?”
The man nodded.
“Holmquist is inside. Whatever happens, don’t leave this door unguarded.”
Another nod. Dylan strode down the hall and raised his voice. “Everyone clear this hall.”
He shut the door of the room closest to him and went on to the next. A nurse pushing a cart full of medications paused.
He gestured to the nearest room. “Go on. Step inside and close the door.”
A man in a hospital gown pushed an IV stand on its wheels. He turned and headed to his room. “That’s too far. Go in here.”
Dylan guided the patient to the nearest room and closed the door.
The hall was empty. He unlatched his gun from its holster and released the lock. Directly in front of him, the elevator lay at the junction of the T-shaped hall. The door to the stairwell was around the corner...out of his vision. He moved forward, settled against the wall and peeked around the corner. The hall was empty. The intruder had not yet reached this floor.
Dylan waited, gun drawn. Hands bracing the gun, wrists taut. Nothing happened.
Should he move closer to the storage room on the right? Wait inside, then pop out and get behind the intruder?
No. Better to keep himself between the man and Joss.
He heard a noise in the stairwell. Heavy footfalls echoed from behind the door. The intruder was close. Dylan gripped the gun. At that moment the elevator dinged. The doors slid open. A man, his wife and two laughing children prepared to step out.
“Get back! Stay inside!”
The frightened father pulled the children to him and pushed his wife inside. The mother frantically jabbed at the elevator buttons. Dylan turned to see the stairway door slowly closing.
Groaning his frustration, he ran toward it. Carefully he pulled it open and waited for gunfire. Nothing happened, so he peeked out. The man was gone. Stepping inside the echoing stairwell, he could hear footsteps—so many, it was hard to distinguish where they were coming from. He paused, listening, and heard the low instructions of the police as they systematically moved up the stairwell together.
Then he heard steps above him. He shouted, “This is Agent Murphy. He’s headed to the sixth floor.”
No men were stationed on the sixth floor. Three officers were stationed below him, plus the guard at Joss’s