all their merchandise. She’d worked hard to learn their customs and codes, and earn their trust, only for all her hard work to be wiped away in the blink of an eye when she was confronted with the barrel of a gun. Her first venture into undercover police work had led to her almost being killed. And she still wasn’t out of danger. Right after her identity had been challenged by one of the gang’s leaders, a rival gang had burst into the makeshift meth lab and started shooting. That had bought her enough time to escape, and the turf war was still raging inside. But somebody would be sure to pursue her.
She started running for Tyler’s patrol car, feeling the scrubby grass crunch beneath her sneakers. The air temperature had recently plummeted below zero, and the forecasters had predicted a white Christmas, which was now just four days away. Christmas always used to be her favorite time of year, but the season no longer held any joy for her. Nothing did.
“Where are the keys?” she called as she reached the car, parked under a bare tree. Her heart was thumping. There was no time to lose. “Check every pocket if you don’t remember.”
The gunfire inside the old prison was now sporadic, coming in rapid bursts, some machine-gun fire and some single shots.
“Wait,” called Tyler, seeming confused. “You told me this was a SEAL mission. Is that correct?”
She was breathless and anxious to leave, but Tyler had the keys, and the look on his face told her that he needed some answers.
“No. I told you what you wanted to hear in order to get you out of there right away. This is an undercover police operation organized by the Southern Missouri Drug Task Force.” She glanced back to the abandoned prison, huge and decaying in the wasteland, miles from anywhere and a perfect location for a secret meth lab. “I know you find it hard to believe that you’re now a sheriff, but you left the SEALs five years ago. You came back to Godspeed to train as a police officer and help us fight the war on meth.” She watched him concentrate hard on her words. “It’ll all come back soon enough, but until it does, we need to go.”
Tyler’s eyes searched the ground, as if he might find the answers among the mud and leaves. Joanna had never seen his face so troubled and uncertain. His strength and confidence were usually his best assets, and the people of Yardley County had elected him as their sheriff with a resounding endorsement two years previously. But now he remembered none of it.
A bullet zinged through the air, popping against a nearby tree. It seemed to spur Tyler into action, and he grabbed Joanna by the arm, yanking her to the ground behind the cruiser.
“Where do I keep my ammo?” he asked.
“The glove box,” she said breathlessly. “Ammo is there.”
Tyler opened the driver’s door, scrambled inside and grabbed the ammo. Joanna felt the frost seep through the seat of her neon yellow jeans. She was wearing clothes that she would usually shun, but in order to pass as an anti-government, pro-drug, potential meth cook she needed to look the part.
Tyler reappeared at her side, loading his weapon. He patted down his pockets, finding the cruiser keys in his jacket.
He handed them to her. “You drive. I’ll provide cover from the passenger window as we leave.”
He seemed more like his old self, cool and collected, and she thanked God for his presence there. She’d initially placed a 9-1-1 call and was told that the SWAT team would take quite a while to mobilize. That’s when she’d called Tyler. If he hadn’t responded so quickly, she’d most likely be dead by now.
He jerked up his head to look back at the prison. “We got company,” he said, a note of urgency in his voice. “Let’s hustle.”
Tyler crawled back into the car just as more shots from their pursuer rang out, shattering the back window and bringing their dangerous situation into sharper focus.
The sheriff’s strong hand reached down and dragged her up onto the driver’s seat. “Drive,” he ordered. “And make it fast.”
Joanna started the car, checking her rearview mirror to see a bald man walking toward them, gun in hand, his face creased in anger. He was known as Crusher within the gang because of his love of fistfighting. And she would now be on the top of his hit list.
She floored the gas pedal, realizing in one agonizing moment that the back tires were embedded in soft earth, not yet frozen by the cool weather. The wheels spun wildly, sending chunks of mud flicking into the air.
Adrenaline rocketed through her. “No! No! We’re not moving.”
Tyler took aim out the window and fired a series of shots in quick succession. This sent Crusher retreating to the cover of the prison, and the sheriff began bouncing heavily up and down in the passenger seat.
“This should give you some traction,” he yelled. “Try again.”
She pressed the gas pedal, yanking the steering wheel sharply left and right. The tires slowly turned and managed to grip onto some hard ground. With a huge surge, they began moving and made it onto the cracked asphalt of the old prison road.
Joanna let out a holler of relief. “We made it!”
Sheriff Beck looked over at her as they raced from the prison. “Nice driving. What did you say your name was?”
She still found it hard to believe he didn’t even know her name. They had almost kissed once, and now she was a stranger to him. “Joanna Graham, sir.”
He turned and reached into the backseat, picking up his hat. “Is this mine?”
“Yes, sir. You’ve been the sheriff of Yardley County for two years now.”
He ran his finger over the gold badge mounted on the front of the hat. “Well, if everything you say is true, Deputy Graham, I’m going to need a lot of help filling in some serious gaps in my memory.”
“Don’t worry, sir,” she said, taking a turn onto the freeway, which would lead them straight to the hospital. “I got your back.”
He smiled. “I can see why I chose you as my deputy. You’re tough.”
“I was already the deputy when you took over the sheriff’s job,” she said. “So technically speaking, I chose you.”
* * *
Tyler studied his reflection in the mirror in his hospital room. Signs of the last few years were evident on his face: a few more lines and wrinkles where none had been before. His sandy-colored hair was beginning to gray a little, still cut in his usual, closely cropped style. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, frustration bubbling up inside. Why could he remember nothing of the last seven years? Why was his last memory of the Dark Skies mission he had served in Afghanistan? What had happened since? He glanced down at his left hand. No ring. At least he hadn’t gotten married. Although maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. He knew that he was approaching forty years of age by now. And yet he still remained a single man.
After a CAT scan on his arrival at the hospital, Tyler had been given strong painkillers while his head wound had been stitched by a nurse, who spoke to him like she knew him well, although he didn’t recognize her at all. Since she had left him alone, the silence gave Tyler time to think. The effects of the drug were still at work, making him light-headed and woozy, and he wished that Deputy Graham were in the room with him,
