we supposed to get Julia to trust us? The first night she’s in our care she nearly dies.”
Will smirked. “Come on, Eli. That might be a little bit of an overstatement. Look at her now—she’s perfectly fine. I overhead one of the nurses say she could be discharged home today like Ben.”
Eli shook his head. “No, not today. I want her here until we can thoroughly check out the next safe house. Two agents—one inside her hospital room and one outside.”
“If you insist.”
“I do. I’ll be having a discussion with Quentin. It’s his responsibility to ensure that these locations are thoroughly vetted before the witness arrives. Having a witness die while under the protection of the U.S. Marshals would bring horrific embarrassment to the agency.”
Will held a hand up. “Eli, I get it. I know this is bad. But are you sure there’s nothing more? Even though it’s not the FBI’s main focus, witness protection is not a walk in the park. The very nature of protecting people is rife with problems.”
“Your point?” Eli asked.
Will stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You don’t seem to be handling this well. I’ll admit—it doesn’t help her trust us. It makes us look bad, but she’s okay and we’ll do better next time. In reality, I’m not sure how we could have prevented the furnace issue.” He paused and rocked back onto his heels.
Or how could we have kept someone from tampering with it? Isn’t that the more appropriate question?
Eli felt it in himself—the tight tension he didn’t know how to dispel without lashing out. What was really going on? On the surface, Will was partially right. Protecting a witness was a mine field and he should manage these issues with a calmer head, and he usually was very levelheaded. With Julia, his protective instincts were in overdrive. Was it more than preventing her death? Was it that he had this strong emotional attachment that tethered his mood to her level of safety? The more her life was at risk, the more unsettled and angry he became? That wasn’t the most rational response for someone just doing his job. If the FBI proved tampering, that would mean her killer had discovered the location of the safe house and accessed it before their arrival.
That changed everything.
It would indicate someone paid a lot of money to track Julia down even in protective custody. Or someone involved with inside knowledge leaked where she was going to be.
Simply pulling Julia from her normal routine might not be enough. A mole put her life significantly more at risk. Was it even possible?
The truth was, seeing Julia limp and lifeless this morning had been too close for him. Too close to the moment when he’d held her the last time and she barely clung to life. If he didn’t get these feelings that had simmered for over a year stuffed back into containment, he wouldn’t be able to do his job.
Eli shook his head to dispel these thoughts.
Eli—pull yourself together. Don’t let your feelings for her put her at risk.
He cleared his throat. “I owe you an apology.”
“It’s all right.”
Eli squared his body to face Will’s. “No, it’s not. You’re right. I haven’t acted in a professional manner.”
“I’ve talked to Quentin myself on this matter and he gave me the location of the next safe house. I agree with you she’s safer in the hospital overnight. They’re getting ready to release Ben as we speak. I’ll go to the next location with a maintenance man and make sure all utilities are working properly as well as the security systems. Furnace check. Fire alarms. Carbon monoxide detectors in place.”
“Thanks, Will. I appreciate your work on this. Let’s be thorough. There are worse things than keeping her tucked here for a few days.”
“Exactly. I’ll head out and work on those details. And you?”
Eli shrugged and held the grocery bag up. “I guess I need to work on building her trust in us again.”
* * *
Julia couldn’t find anything to watch on TV. The headache and chest pain were gone, and the latest blood result showed the carbon monoxide was cleared from her system. She was free from the confining hyperbaric oxygen chamber. Why hadn’t she been released as the doctor said she would be?
What disturbed her were the visions...or hallucinations...or could they be actual, real memories?
In some ways, her amnesia was a blessing. There wasn’t the terror of knowing exactly what happened to her on a daily basis. The subconscious remnants were what plagued her and likely were the cause of her anxiety. Would working to recapture those memories heal her from the anxiety? Was she brave enough to try and do it?
Today, she remembered more than she ever had before about the attack.
At least, she was fairly certain that what she remembered was true.
On that fateful day, Julia had just come downstairs after getting ready for work. She was about to put on her brightly colored paisley clogs that were tucked under the table in her foyer but decided it might be best to get her lunch ready instead. There had been the softest click and a cool breeze that swept through her kitchen. She’d crossed over to her sliding glass door to see if she’d left it cracked open from the previous evening. Peeling aside the curtain, she could see it was latched. Even the security bar was down.
When she turned around, a man stood just feet away from her. Even recalling this much caused her heart to fire indiscriminately, and she checked her pulse to see if the rhythm was regular. Resting her head against the pillow, she closed her eyes.
Why can’t I see you? Why are you just a fuzzed-out figure? I locked the front door. How did you get in? Has my mind made this whole thing up?
What was new was seeing a figure at all. Was it something to be celebrated? Julia wasn’t convinced. After all, if it really couldn’t offer any new information, what good did it do her except cause her more anxiety?
Then what replaced it was the sweet singsong of a male voice that whispered to her. Those are the brown eyes I’ve been waiting to see.
The faint knock at the door caused the memory to vanish. Eli poked his head into her room, and she motioned him forward.
The second thing that caused her anxiety? The gap in her memory claimed every moment she’d interacted with Eli. Considering the things he knew about her, it reasoned they’d spent a lot of time together.
“You look a lot better,” he offered, pulling a chair closer to the bed. He set a thin plastic grocery bag at her side. “I brought you these. A change of clothes and your Bible.”
She grasped the bag with the tip of her fingers and pulled it closer. “Thank you. I can’t wait to get out of here.”
His eyes darted to the side. “That’s what we need to talk about.”
“I don’t want to stay here.”
“You’re safe here. I think it’s—”
“No! Eli, please...”
