turned to her, cup and spoon in hand, stirring her concoction slowly. “Eli Cayne. Marshals—”
“No.” She held her hand up. “Who are you to me?”
He crossed the kitchen, set the cup down in front of her and turned to his cohort. “Can you give us ten minutes?” Ben handed him the manila folder. The one Eli claimed marked the end of her life.
Eli unbuttoned his suit jacket, and she noted dark patches on the broad expanse of his tailored shirt. Water from her hair, from when he had carried her up the stairs. Something about being held in this man’s arms had felt so strangely familiar. Comforting. Julia pushed the thought aside and watched as he lowered himself into the chair across from her. She gripped the cup between her hands to cut the fear-laden chill that set in her bones.
“I used to work for the Aurora Police Department. I was the lead detective on your case. I’ve only been with the marshals’ office for about a year and a half.”
How much did she want to know about their past? Had there been anything besides a professional relationship between them? Pins and needles rushed over her body. She felt light-headed. Fear rose within her. The daily battle to keep it at bay faltered.
Julia placed her palm on the envelope and slid it on the table between them. “Tell me about this. Tell me why you’re here.”
Eli pinched the flimsy metal clasp together, pushed the flap open and pulled out the documents. He fanned the pages out, turning them around so she could see them. “This is what we call a hit package. It’s typically put together by someone who wants to hire a hit man for murder. It has all the pertinent information of your comings and goings. Photos of your house. Your vehicle and its license plate. Your gym. Place of employment...”
His insistent litany became distant in her ears as she gathered up the pages. The details of her life laid out like a scrapbook for a killer. Her schedule. Where she went grocery-shopping. Where she volunteered. A picture of her grandfather and his assisted living center. Had her papa been put into danger because of her? Her throat tightened—her turtleneck like a gloved hand around her throat. As much as she loathed wearing it, the collar hid what she could not confront.
“Who is this person?” Her voice broke from clenched vocal cords.
Eli sighed. “At this point, there doesn’t seem to be an obvious candidate. Dr. Heller, who murdered several people and nearly killed you, is on death row. This is a copy. The original is in evidence. We’re examining it to see if it will give us clues as to who this person might be.”
“Where did it come from?”
“It was given anonymously to a local parole officer who then delivered it to the FBI. Can you look at these pictures of the other victims? We never found a strong tie between them and you other than a health-care background. Do you know any of these women?”
Julia glanced at the photos. Some did seem vaguely familiar, but none that she knew by name. She straightened the pages and handed them back to Eli. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. I don’t know if you’re aware, but I suffered a brain injury as a result of the hanging. I have post-traumatic amnesia. Any memories from the time of my attack until I went into rehab are gone. The next months are fuzzy and...” She brushed the tears from her eyes. Why did something she couldn’t remember traumatize her so deeply?
Eli covered her hand with his. Familiar again, unnerving yet protective at the same time. How could one touch be all those things?
She cleared her throat and continued. “I was sick for a long time. I’ve just gotten things back to normal. If there is such a thing after what I lived through.”
“Julia, what’s important right now is to get you somewhere safe. When we do that, hopefully we’ll have time to figure this out.”
Hopefully? His words didn’t instill confidence. The threat was serious and even he didn’t conclusively sound as though he could keep her safe. Was he depending on her remembering something she couldn’t?
“What are you asking me to do?”
“I’m asking you to come with me. We’re placing you in protective custody until we find the person who wants to kill you.”
Julia pulled two suitcases from underneath her bed and laid them open on top of her hope chest. In that chest were many things she treasured from people close to her who had died. Her mother’s journal. Her father’s old baseball glove. Patchwork quilts her grandmother had sewn for great-grandchildren she would never know. Eli slid the Bible toward him and placed his index finger on the highlighted text.
“‘Fear thou not, for I am with thee. Be not dismayed, for I am thy God. I will strengthen thee. Yea, I will help thee. Yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.’ Isaiah 41:10.”
Julia stilled and watched him smooth his hand over the crinkled pages. It unnerved her to hear his voice read something so intimate. Was he reading the notes she scribbled in the margin? Her most closely held thoughts? Those pages were worn with overuse. How often had she read this verse to herself to change her heart?
To help her believe that God could provide peace from the fear and worry that plagued her.
How could she get the Bible back without seeming to be trying to hide something from him?
“Do you believe in God?” she asked, holding out her hand.
He closed the Bible gently and held it out for her. “I do, but I have to admit I’m a little jealous.”
She pulled the book from his hand. “Of me? Why?”
“You seem...intimate...with those words.”
Ben, who had been leaning against her door frame, walked to the center of her bedroom. “Julia, you can’t bring anything that could potentially disclose your location. No cell phone. Nothing electronic. No computer. E-reader. We can’t take any chances.”
Julia put the Bible at the bottom of her suitcase. “How many days do you think I’ll be gone? I need to notify the hospital. I need to tell my grandfather something so he won’t worry.”
Ben neared her. “You can’t say anything that might give a hint that you’re being put in protective custody. Tell your grandfather you’re leaving on vacation and won’t be available by phone for a few days.”
“But I call him every evening.”
“You can’t,” Ben insisted. “Not for a while. I know it seems harsh, but it’s as much for your safety as it is for his.”
Eli eased Ben away from her with a nudge to his shoulder.
“Julia, I don’t want you to worry about your grandfather,” Eli reassured her. “I’ll personally ensure his safety. The marshals’ office will have someone keep eyes on him, as well.”
“Is there any other close family we should be concerned about?” Ben asked.
Julia turned away and walked to her closet. She couldn’t bear saying it. That she was alone in the world. Her parents were dead. No siblings.
