taught him that tracking was like learning to read, a challenge that had always fascinated him. They’d spent hours out on the ranch training to interpret the terrain as they identified animals, studied the surroundings and traced their travel routes. Today he was praying his skills would help him save a woman’s life.
He squatted down, ignoring the blistering cold. Two people had continued south after stopping. A third had doubled back before taking a new path toward the main road. It had to be the witness.
Griffin found her heading for the main road about a hundred yards south of the wreck. There was still no sign of the motorcyclists, but he knew he couldn’t let his guard down. He had no doubt they were still out there. He held up his badge as he ran to catch up with her. Shouting at her to stop wasn’t an option. It would only lead whoever was out there straight to her. But losing her wasn’t an option, either. He chased her another ten feet then hurried to stop in front of her.
He held up his hands so she could see his badge. “Ma’am...don’t scream. Please. I’m a sheriff’s deputy and I can keep you safe.”
She stumbled backward. He’d seen the accident aftermath and knew she had to be terrified. And, with her escorts dead, she probably had no idea who she could trust. He needed that person to be him.
“I know someone’s trying to find you,” he rushed on to say. “I’m here to help.”
She hesitated then nodded. “They killed those men.”
“I know. We’re going to head to my car,” he said, “then I’ll take you directly to the sheriff’s office in Timber Falls.”
“They were FBI?” she asked as they started walking.
“Yes.” He placed his hand on her arm, wondering why she didn’t already know the answer to her question. “Do you know who killed them?”
“I’m guessing the same people who are after me, but I have no idea who they are.”
“You’re okay now. I’m going to get you somewhere safe.” He picked up the pace slightly, his senses on high alert, knowing it was just a matter of time before her hunters realized she’d doubled back to the road. Letting them find her wasn’t an option. “What’s your name?”
She hesitated then shook her head. “I don’t know.”
He stopped for a moment, confused. “Wait... You don’t remember your name?”
She glanced up at him with those big brown eyes and long lashes of hers, giving him a brief moment to study her while he waited for her to answer. Five-foot-five, maybe six, dark hair past her shoulders... She had a lost look in her eyes that pulled at that familiar spot in his heart, making him want to protect her all the more. Her only visible injuries were a scrape on her hand and a bruise forming at her temple. But maybe he was missing something.
She shook her head. “I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t remember.”
“What about today’s date?”
“It’s... I don’t know. What is it?”
“December tenth.” He’d caught the panic in her voice as she struggled to answer. “What can you remember?”
Her eyes avoided the scene in front of them. “Nothing before the accident. The man in the front seat had been shot. He told me to run. That they were coming after me.”
“Okay...” Griffin wasn’t sure if her loss of memory was a sign of something more serious but, for now, he just needed to get her out of there alive. “Don’t worry about that right now. Do you hurt anywhere?” he asked.
“My head, but that’s all. That and, of course, the fact that I can’t remember my name or why I’m here.”
“Do you remember how many were chasing you?” he asked as they finally emerged onto the main road. He could see his car ahead of them and still no sign of the men who’d been after her.
“Two,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded.
Her answer surprised him. There were three helmets on the bikes. She could be wrong, though it seemed to be the events after the crash that she could remember—like the dead bodies at the scene and the men chasing after her—but not events or things that had happened before the accident, including her name. Either she’d hit her head or was experiencing some kind of dissociative amnesia from the trauma. But the whys didn’t matter right now.
He clicked the key fob as they approached his vehicle and unlocked his car, then headed toward the motorcycles. “Go get inside. You’ll be safe.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll be right back. I promise.”
Sunlight broke through the gray clouds above them as he quickly searched the tree line for the men. If he hadn’t had to worry about the woman, he would have gone after them. However, for the moment, his number-one priority had to be to get her to safety. The problem was that he still had no idea where the men were. And that had him worried. Not only were they armed, he’d be outnumbered if they showed up. That meant ensuring she wasn’t hit in any cross fire would be difficult, so he had to slow the men down. He stopped next to the two motorcycles and quickly jerked out the spark plug wires on each bike.
But he was running out of time. He could now hear the men crashing through the underbrush without even bothering to quiet their steps. A bullet hit the side of his squad car. He ran back to his car and jerked open the driver’s-side door. A searing pain shot through him as the second bullet hit its mark.
She couldn’t breathe and her heart felt as if it were about to burst out of her chest. She’d just been rescued from the men trying to kill her, but this was far from over. Blood was rapidly spreading across the deputy’s right sleeve as he spoke to his dispatcher to give an update on the situation.
“You’ve been hit,” she said as he disconnected the call.
“It’s just a flesh wound. My primary goal right now is to get you out of here. Backup is on its way to arrest the guys that attacked you.”
She stared out the rear window to where the men were trying to figure out why their bikes wouldn’t start and then focused back on his arm. “You have no idea how bad it is. You’re running on adrenaline now. I need to look at it, and you certainly shouldn’t be driving.”
“We’re twenty minutes out of Timber Falls,” he said, pressing on the accelerator. “I can wait that long to get treated.”
“We need to get the bleeding stopped before then.” She grabbed for a T-shirt on the back seat and started pressing it against the wound. This was insane. She couldn’t remember her name or what she did for a living, but somehow her response felt automatic. “What kind of first-aid equipment do you have in the back of your car?”
“A basic medical kit, exam gloves, a tourniquet...”
She
