ask you that question about two years ago, but you disappeared.”
Maybe Mandy would be able to help with that. She likely would have told her sister why she had disappeared. Well, maybe. If her sister and she had been close—since they’d owned a PI business together, maybe that meant they had been.
“Other than the Canton case, any idea what else I was working on around that same time?” she asked.
Kelly hadn’t figured that Jameson would actually know. Especially if she had gotten involved with him because of the Cantons, and that’s why she was surprised when he readily answered.
“You were investigating a guy named Frank Worley.”
Finally, that sounded familiar. More than familiar. It sent another chill through her. “He’s a money launderer.”
Jameson stared at her and then moved closer. Too close. And he looked into her eyes. “That’s what the San Antonio PD thought. So did one of his former employees. You remember that?”
“No.” But she motioned for him to continue.
He did, after he huffed. “Worley’s ex-girlfriend, Hadley Beecham, hired you to find their infant daughter, Amy, whom she claimed Worley had stolen and hidden. Hadley was killed in a suspicious car accident, but that only made you dig deeper into the case.”
She thought about that for a moment. “Maybe Worley’s the reason I disappeared. Maybe he’s the reason this is happening now?”
Jameson shrugged. “Worley’s bad news, I have no doubts about that. But I was never able to link your disappearance to him.”
“You searched for me,” she said. But wished she hadn’t. That comment only put more frustration back into his eyes.
“Because you stole that file,” he grumbled.
So he’d been looking for her to arrest her. Maybe still would. But she instinctively knew that it wouldn’t be safe to be locked up where someone could get to her. Everything inside her was screaming that she should get to a safe place, and behind bars wouldn’t be that place. Plus, she wouldn’t be able to look for that her.
A man stepped into the room. He was wearing jeans and a blue shirt, but he was in the process of putting on a white coat with a name tag stitched on it. According to the name tag, he was Dr. Timothy Halston.
“It’s okay,” Jameson said, taking hold of her arm. Until he did that, Kelly hadn’t even been aware that she was trying to get off the table. “He’s the local doc in Blue River.”
Neither the doctor nor his name meant anything to her, but Blue River rang some bells. It was Jameson’s hometown. She was sure of it. And she’d been on her way there when, well, when the incident with those men had happened.
“Jameson’s right,” the doctor added. “And I need to have a look at that gash on your head.”
The doctor moved in to do that just as Jameson’s phone rang. He stepped back into the doorway, moving away from her. Something that sent her heart racing. Even though she wasn’t sure she could fully trust Jameson, right now Kelly trusted him more than she did anyone else.
“It’s not that deep of a cut, but I guess you took a hard enough lick on the head to mess up your memory,” the doctor continued, but Kelly tuned him out and tried to hear what the caller was telling Jameson. He didn’t put his phone on speaker, but after a few seconds, he mumbled some profanity.
“When?” Jameson asked the caller.
She had to look around the doctor when he moved in front of her to continue the exam. Not that there was much to see or hear. Jameson was clearly in listening mode. And like before, he didn’t like whatever it was he was hearing.
“When will I get my memory back?” Kelly asked the doctor.
“Can’t say. Sometimes, these things only last an hour or so. Sometimes, longer. I’ll order some tests,” the doctor said, waving a penlight in front of her eyes. “How bad is the pain?”
“I’m okay,” she lied. But there was no way she wanted pain meds. Her head was already too foggy as it was.
“All right. Then I’ll get started on those tests.” The doctor again. “A nurse will be in soon to take you where you need to go.”
Jotting down some notes, the doctor left, but it took Jameson several more seconds to finish up his call. Even when he put his phone away and came back to her, he took his time saying anything.
“Is it Mandy?” she came out and asked.
Jameson nodded and didn’t seem surprised that she’d guessed that. “The cops went to her apartment. She wasn’t there, but it appeared there had been some kind of struggle.”
Oh, mercy. So this probably was connected to her sister. Someone likely had her and was holding her hostage.
“They found blood in her apartment,” Jameson added.
He had to take hold of her again or she would have bolted. Where, Kelly didn’t know, but she had to find her sister.
“The cops are looking for her.” Jameson’s grip stayed firm on her arm until she quit moving. Then he waited until their gazes were connected before he continued. “A neighbor said she saw Mandy with two men about five hours ago. She didn’t see any guns, but Mandy was walking in between the two.”
Kelly had to press her hand to her chest to try to steady her heart and her breathing. “Why didn’t the neighbor call the cops?”
“She didn’t think anything was wrong and didn’t see any signs of an injury. Apparently, she doesn’t know Mandy that well so she thought they might be friends.”
Definitely not friends. Not with that blood in the apartment. Even though the neighbor hadn’t noticed any injuries, it didn’t mean Mandy hadn’t been hurt in some way. Now those goons had had her for five hours or more, and there was no telling what they could have done to her.
“They’re holding her until I kill you.” Kelly hadn’t intended to say that aloud, but judging from the sound of agreement Jameson made, that was his theory, too.
“Please tell me you’re remembering something. Anything,” he added, “that’ll help us with this.”
Kelly tried again, but the jumble was still there. She tried to catch on to bits of it, but there was only one thing that was clear. “I’ll never see her again if they find out you’re still alive.” And finally something fell from that jumble. Not a memory. But an idea of how to fix it. “Is there a way for you to fake your death?”
No sound of agreement, but he didn’t jump to nix the idea, either. “But then what? Whoever has your sister might just decide to tie up loose ends and kill her. You’re a loose end, too.”
Yes. The worst kind. Because somewhere in that jumble of memories was perhaps the identity of the person responsible.
“I can’t just sit here and wait,” Kelly said. Her voice hardly had any sound, and the blasted tears came again. She cursed the tears because they wouldn’t help. Heck,
