log cabin house, situated on the top of a hill. The high-school boy she’d hired for odd jobs around the shop and acreage had just driven home to his parents’ farm for dinner, and the dust kicked up by his speeding truck never even slowed the man’s stride. Rendered ghostlike until the curtain of dust settled, he just kept coming, moving toward the iron gates of her property with a sense of purpose that had her shifting back half a step.
Thrilling anticipation as much as cautious fear revved in her veins and gathered speed as the blood raced from her heart into her tingling extremities. Her lips parted to accommodate the quicker pace of suddenly shallow breaths.
Was he the one? Was he finally coming for her?
Nothing about him seemed familiar. And yet, how could she know?
The dog stood and circled her legs, antsy about her next command. Would she order him to run down the stranger? Stay and protect? Attack?
Jessica shook her head, answering the dog’s unspoken questions. “I don’t like the looks of him, either.”
She slipped back another step, into the shadow of a wooden post. She needed more time to think, more time to make a decision. She needed to remember.
But he just kept coming.
The sun hung low in the western sky, not yet at the point on the horizon that would color the Indian-summer clouds in a palette of orange, pink and gold. Silhouetted against the sun, she could see he was a big man. The pack he carried on his back seemed to hold a whole life’s worth of belongings, from the faded denim jacket tied at the top to the sleeping bag that hit his hips. Yet he carried it all with an easy posture and resolute stride that said he could carry the weight of the world on those broad shoulders. And had.
Jessica reached down and scratched Harry behind the ears, catching up a handful of his longish black coat, which reflected more of his wolfhound heritage than his police dog ancestry. She needed the comfort of contact with another living creature to forestall the sense of impending doom that made her chest seize up. Had she felt this same fear before? Reacted this same way? Had she gone numb with shock like this? Choked on her helpless anger?
“Turn the corner,” she coaxed the stranger beneath her breath. “Walk on by.”
He could turn at the crossroads at the foot of the hill and head east. But long before he neared the brick posts and wood rail fence that surrounded her land, she knew he wasn’t going to turn. He would come right through the gate, saunter up her long gravel driveway and invite himself up to the house.
And he didn’t look like the type of man who’d hiked out into the countryside southeast of Kansas City just to buy antiques at her shop. He paused only to read the carved wooden sign, Log Cabin Antiques. He must have read the hours, knew she’d just closed at six.
Frozen in the shadows, Jessica curled her fingers around Harry’s collar. “Walk on,” she mouthed again.
The stranger’s shoulders heaved in a controlled sigh beneath the taut fit of his faded black T-shirt. Then he lifted his eyes and looked straight at her. Sought her out in the shade of the porch. Made eye contact as if he’d known she’d been watching him all along.
Her breath stuttered out in a rush of panic. Harry growled and barked twice, sensing the exponential swell of his mistress’s fear.
She grabbed the dog by the collar and pulled him inside with her, bolting the door behind them.
She hurried through the tiny living room, past the stairs to her bedroom loft, sidestepped a glass-front display case that housed doll dishes and campaign buttons and slipped into the private nook that doubled as office and dining room. She squatted down out of sight beside the rolltop desk that held her computer and hugged Harry close to her chest. She could scarcely think. Breathe. See.
She was flashing back.
Flashing back to what? she demanded of herself, trying to see through the blind haze of terror that filled her mind. All she could remember was the fear, the sense of being trapped. A business trip and romantic evening gone horribly awry. She could recall that last dinner in Chicago with Alex almost word for word—how angry and heartbroken she’d been. She knew what the doctors and cops had told her when she came to in the hospital more than twenty-four hours later. But she couldn’t remember anything in between.
Twenty-four hours of her life lost in the closed-off fog of a memory, purged by a mind that craved sanity in order to survive.
All she knew was that she should have been dead. That she’d been violated in a way beyond imagining and had lived to tell about it.
Only she couldn’t tell about it.
She couldn’t remember it.
“Damn,” she muttered, as frustrated now as she’d been last March.
She came from a family of cops. Her brothers had taught her how to defend herself, had lectured her on how to be more observant than the average citizen. But it hadn’t been enough. Somehow she’d let them down and he’d gotten to her.
The crunch of gravel beneath a heavy footstep reminded her of the danger at hand. Was he here? Was that him coming closer and closer?
Burying her nose in Harry’s neck, Jessica could feel the dog’s warmth and strength. She could sense his unwavering loyalty and devotion to keeping her safe. He licked her arm, his long, raspy tongue a gentle request for direction and understanding.
“I don’t know, boy.” She hugged him tighter, trading comforts. “I don’t know what to do.”
Hidden in the dining room behind a wall of shelves and an old walnut wardrobe filled with antique dresses and quilts, she could simply lock the doors and hide until the man went away.
But she had a feeling locked doors and windows wouldn’t stop a man like him. She could hide inside the wardrobe itself or lose herself in the aisles of furniture and collectibles she had for sale—and he’d still find her.
Paralyzing fear warred with the less certain instinct to survive. Her brothers had taught her to protect herself. And although she had failed then, she was a different person now. One who was a lot smarter about the harsh realities of life. One who had a lot less to lose.
One who wasn’t done living yet.
Besides, there was really only one way to know if the man who’d come to her remote cabin was him.
And more than anything—more than the fear itself—she wanted to know the truth.
Jessica leaned back and caught the dog’s streamlined jowls between her hands. “You with me, Harry?”
Uncanny intelligence stared back at her from midnight-brown eyes. He’d had one hell of a past, too, before she’d found the giant mutt on death row at the pound. Maybe it took someone who’d survived the worst the world had to offer to understand what she’d been through, what she had to face every day of her life now. Maybe someone could understand—and love her anyway. The dog’s unflinching support actually coaxed a smile out of Jessica.
And inspired a sense of calm that allowed her to think clearly once more. “Let’s go.”
Latching on to Harry’s collar, Jessica pulled against the dog’s weight and stood, quickly
