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Chapter 1

Riding into the outskirts of Conard City finally released the awful tension in Kylie Brewer. Her sister, Glenda, was driving, and Kylie had been uneasily aware since they left the hospital in Denver that nothing looked familiar to her. Nothing.

And yet she had lived in Denver for the last three years. She’d even been treated in the hospital where she had worked part-time. The violent assault that had landed her in the hospital at death’s door had stolen those three years from her, and all she wanted was to see and touch something, anything, that was truly familiar.

Now she saw familiar sights at last. The Olmstead ranch, green and lush with the spring, caught her eye and filled her with a sense of peace. Cattle and deer both grazed amid the deepening grasses. She wondered vaguely if Mr. Olmstead minded the deer grazing, but couldn’t recall if she’d ever heard a word about it. Another gap in her memory? She hoped not.

Conard County, Wyoming, was home, and Conard City was as familiar to her as yesterday. Maybe more so, given how much she had forgotten. She had grown up here, and despite all the fear and despair that had dogged her since she awoke in the hospital, now she felt excited, hopeful. At peace, however temporarily.

“A word of warning,” Glenda said, speaking for the first time in the last fifty miles.

“What?”

“I’ve got a houseguest. You remember Connie Parish? She used to be Connie Halloran?”

“Of course I remember her.” It felt so good to be able to say that.

“Well, her cousin is on leave from the marines, and he’s in town for a few weeks. I couldn’t see letting him stay at the motel when I have a perfectly good room to let him use.”

In an instant, all the tension returned to Kylie. “Glenda...I don’t know him.”

Glenda patted her thigh before returning her hand to the steering wheel. “It’s fine. He’s not a threat. He was overseas when you were attacked. He only got here two days ago.”

That was supposed to be comforting? Kylie’s hands knotted into fists. Sharing her sister’s house with a stranger? While it was true she had no memory of the attack on her, and no memory of most of the last three years, she didn’t feel at all comfortable around strangers. Even the hospital staff, some of whom had worked with her before she was attacked, had presented a constant sense of threat simply because they were now strangers.

“They never caught the guy,” she said dully.

“I’m telling you, it couldn’t have been Coop. You want to check his passport?”

Kylie glanced at her sister, feeling irritated, noting that Glenda had become sharper since her divorce. Realizing she was probably being unreasonable herself.

“Look,” said Glenda, “the doctor explained your fear is normal. I understand that. You can’t remember, although I’m not really sure how remembering would help. It’s natural to be uneasy around strangers. That’s what he said. But Coop is Connie’s cousin and he won’t be a stranger for long, okay?”

Kylie managed a stiff nod. All she had wanted to do was come home and sink into the comforting familiarity of a life she could remember, and now a stranger had been thrown into the mix. She nearly felt betrayed by Glenda. Then she tried to tell herself that meeting a real stranger, one she couldn’t possibly remember, could be beneficial itself because she wouldn’t have to rack her absent memory. Somehow she didn’t quite believe her own argument.

Turning her head, she stared out at the passing countryside, picking out the ranches she remembered, realizing they were only minutes from driving into town. She had no idea how much or little had changed about Conard City during the years she couldn’t remember, but she guessed she was going to find out. It would probably be almost the same. Little changed as slowly as Conard City.

The center of town looked pretty much as it always had. There was the courthouse square, surrounded by storefronts, where a handful of retired men regularly met to play checkers or chess at the stone tables in the front park. A few were there now, though the afternoon was still chilly. It was like a snapshot, familiar her entire life long. The picture never changed much, although the faces at the tables did with the turning of the years.

“Brick sidewalks?” she asked suddenly, noticing.

“The resort up the mountain put them in. They were going to paint, too, but the landslide halted everything.”

Small change, an attractive change, but she remembered nothing about a landslide at the resort, although she remembered hearing it was going to be built. Another gap. She wondered if she should bother asking about it. It hardly seemed worth the effort at that moment.

Everything else remained solidly familiar, including her sister’s driveway and the house. It was the family house, a two-story Craftsman style painted white, left to both of them by their grandparents a few years ago. Their parents had both died years before on holiday in Guatemala. Their tourist bus had been attacked by some bandits.

But that had been a long time ago. Fifteen years?

Glenda pulled up to the side door and switched off the ignition. Kylie didn’t move. After a minute, Glenda turned in her seat. “Kylie, if it’s really too much, I’ll ask Coop to move to the motel. I’m sure he and Connie will understand, under the circumstances. But give it a try for me, okay?”

Kylie managed a stiff nod. “I will.”

Glenda sighed and reached for the door latch. “This has got to be hell for you, not remembering the last few years. I can’t imagine it. So be patient with me, okay?”

Kylie felt a rush of warmth for her sister. “If you’ll be patient with me.”

Glenda smiled. “The house is pretty much the same. I think you’ll remember most of it.”

All of a sudden Kylie reached out and touched her sister’s arm. “Glenda?”

“Yeah?”

“I may have forgotten other things, too. I have no way to know.”

Glenda nodded. “I guess we’ll see. We’ll talk about it more, but let’s go inside and make you some coffee or something. And you must be hungry by now.”

Maybe. Her stomach was still knotted with the trepidation that never quite left her anymore, but she forced herself to get out of the car.

The back steps were concrete, and still had the crumbled corners she remembered. At some point a larger crack had been patched, the concrete a different, lighter gray. The screen door still screeched the same old protest. The glass-topped inner door opened soundlessly on well-oiled hinges.

One step into the kitchen and she paused, looking around, dragging in the familiar smells with a deep breath. Little had changed indeed. The cabinets had been repainted, but the same white. A few new appliances sat on the counter, but otherwise it carried her instantly back to her childhood. She smiled for the first time in ages. “Do I smell marinara?”

“I made some last night. If you want, we can have it later. Let me get your suitcase.”

A suitcase. She had a whole bunch of possessions from an apartment in Denver, but most of them might as well have belonged to someone else. She’d brought a few keepsakes she remembered along with her, and Glenda had ruthlessly put everything else in storage until Kylie decided what she wanted to do with it all.

Gratitude toward her sister once again flooded her, and she made up her mind to do her best with this Coop guy in the house. Besides, he’d probably spend an awful lot of time visiting Connie, Ethan and their children. She probably wouldn’t have to see much of him at all.

Glenda rolled the suitcase inside. “You get your old room,” she said. “It’s always been yours, but you know that.”

“Thank you.”

Glenda smiled. “You don’t have to thank me. What are sisters for? Anyway, this house belongs to both of us.”

Glenda was a few years older than Kylie, which, when they were children, had always given her a superior position. It didn’t feel that way anymore, Kylie realized as Glenda parked the suitcase in one corner of the kitchen and waved her to sit at the old table. The years had at last made them equals...at least to some extent. Kylie definitely felt at a disadvantage with her memory loss, but those were years she hadn’t lived here, anyway.

Glenda buzzed about. For a woman of thirty-four who’d been through an ugly divorce, she looked good, Kylie thought. Even with the gap in her memory she was barely able to note changes in Glenda. She still wore her light brown hair in a ponytail and moved with the ease of someone who was fit, and still seemed to prefer scrubs to jeans. But then Glenda was a nurse, too, like Kylie.

A sharp contrast there, Kylie thought with a touch of humor. Kylie herself was moving much more cautiously these days, since parts of her were still healing. Almost there, she assured herself. Soon she wouldn’t feel the hitches of scars from all the knife slashes, or the ache in her ribs from the beating. Soon she’d be almost normal again.

If she’d ever be normal with a three-year hole in her memory. Three years that had included her own long-awaited training as a nurse-practitioner. Stolen from her by some creep on the street.

As she sat at the table waiting for Glenda to make the coffee, she closed her eyes and listened to the house. It still sounded the same, she realized. An odd thing to notice, but she did. Sounds moved the same way through the structure, echoed in the same way. Even the sound of the refrigerator turning on carried her back in time.

At last Glenda joined her at the table. “Tired?” she asked as she poured the coffee and pushed a plate with toasted bagels closer to Kylie.

“No, not really. I was listening to the house.”

Glenda arched a brow. “Listening? It’s awfully quiet. Not like when we were running around here constantly making noise.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Yeah, it was.” Glenda sighed. “So three years are missing?” Until now, Glenda had devoted herself to dealing with each matter that arose, but they really hadn’t talked between them about Kylie’s amnesia. As if Glenda needed some time to deal with it, too. Or maybe Glenda had just been glad to have a chance to rehash her divorce with someone who didn’t already remember every detail of it.

“Pretty much. I can’t remember my training, or my apartment, or anything else. Denver seems like a place I’ve never been before. But the truth is—” Kylie bit her lip “—I can’t be sure I’ve forgotten everything. Or even sure that I haven’t lost even older memories.”

“Memories are a funny thing,” Glenda said, reaching for a buttered bagel. “We rewrite them all the time. So my suggestion to you is that you not get wrapped up in knots over details. It’s not like I could tell you every minute from a day four years ago.”

For the first time Kylie felt like laughing, so she did. “That’s a good point.”

Glenda grinned. “I’m full of good points. I know it must be disturbing, but the doc said there’s a good chance you’ll get at least some of it back. I hope it’s just the good parts.”

Kylie heartily agreed with that. She definitely did not want to remember the attack, although she felt bad that she couldn’t identify her attacker. It might have protected some other woman from the guy.

“And you can always start your training again,” Glenda added cheerfully.

That was exactly the wrong thing to say. Kylie battled back a sense of darkness that threatened to swamp her. She’d been pursuing her master’s in nursing with an eye to becoming a physician’s assistant. She couldn’t do that here. To do that would mean going back to Denver, to the program that had promised to reinstate her entire scholarship so she could afford it, and she couldn’t imagine any possible future path that would take her back to that city. Not now. Not ever.

She heard Glenda sigh and opened her eyes.

“Sorry,” Glenda said. “I was trying to be positive and I guess I put my foot right in it. But there are other schools in the country.”

“It’s okay.” But it wasn’t okay. In the broad daylight of a late afternoon, Glenda had brought the nightmare back. Usually the evil darkness pursued her only in her sleep, but now here she was wide awake and she felt as if a demon were looking over her shoulder. God, she hated the feeling.

Just then, causing her to start, there was a knock at the side door.

“Coop,” said Glenda, pushing back from the table. Kylie could see only the silhouette of a man on the other side of the sheer white curtains, and her heart hit an immediate gallop. Stop it, she told herself. Stop it. She was safe. She was not alone. She was home.

Glenda opened the door. The sun was at a perfect angle to bathe the man standing on the top step in golden sunlight so brilliant that Kylie had to blink. For an instant she couldn’t make out any details while her eyes adjusted to the brightness.

Then, stepping out of that halo came a tall man dressed in jeans and a blue polo shirt. His impact was instant. He was big, muscular and still golden from the light, even his dark brown hair.

“Is my timing bad?” he asked immediately. A deep baritone voice that seemed to go along with his size.

“Kylie and I are having some coffee. Join us?”

Kylie realized she was gripping the edge of the table as if it were a lifeline and she was about to drown. She tried to tell herself she was being ridiculous, but she couldn’t loosen her grip. She did manage what felt like a wan smile.

Coop stepped farther into the kitchen while Glenda closed the door, but he didn’t come close to Kylie. “Hi, I’m Evan Cooper. Everyone calls me Coop, obviously. And if you want, I’ll just disappear upstairs. I...heard you’ve had a bad time.”

Kylie didn’t want to be rude, much as she wished she didn’t have to face this, not yet. Not before she got her feet beneath her and felt more comfortable about being home. But she also didn’t want to be discourteous, and Glenda had asked this man to stay here. Absent three years, she still knew that Connie and Ethan Parish had three kids who probably filled their house to the rafters. Be civil, she told herself. You can always run upstairs if you feel overwhelmed.

“Please,” she said quietly. “Join us. You just got back?”

So Glenda rearranged things, putting the table between Coop and Kylie, and settling herself at the end between them. Then he smiled at Kylie, speaking easily. “I arrived in Baltimore three days ago, then flew out here to see Connie and the kids.”

“Where were you before?” Thank God she hadn’t completely lost her ability to make casual conversation.

For the first time she noticed how blue his eyes were, maybe because they almost twinkled at her. “I was here and there. Lately in Afghanistan and then Germany.”

She was relieved to feel her fingers starting to relax. Just in time, because they had begun to ache. “You must travel a lot.”

“I rarely get to hold still. Say, listen.”

Reluctantly she looked at him again and saw that he was addressing her. “Yes?”

“If me being here makes you uncomfortable, there is a motel. I’ll gladly move. Glenda told me you’re...recovering, and having me around might not be restful. I can understand that.”

She glanced at Glenda, and saw her sister looked unhappy. Was Glenda interested in this guy? Oh, hell. “No, of course you can stay here. I wouldn’t dream of asking you to move out.”

“As long as you’re sure, because I’m used to far worse digs than the local motel.”

A little laugh escaped Glenda. Relief? Kylie couldn’t tell. Glenda spoke. “Yeah, like rocky ground?”

“Yeah, like that. Cold, too. So really, neither of you need to worry about me.”

“I like Connie,” Kylie said, reaching for the old self she still retained. “I’ve known her all my life. It only seems right that if we have an extra room, you should be able to use it.”

Speaking the words had an odd effect on her. Maybe because it was the first time since she woke in the hospital that she’d made a real decision for herself. Taking control again, in a small way. She sensed a smile form on her lips. It felt good.

“Well, if I get to bothering you, just send me on my way.” He shook his head, smiling. “It wouldn’t be the first time my butt has been booted out of a place.”

“Why,” asked Glenda, “do I think there are some stories there that I’d love to hear?”

“The ones you’d most like to hear are the ones I will never share.” He winked at Kylie.

God, he was charming, she thought, and let her face relax into a small smile. Such a relief to be able to smile naturally again, not just because it was expected. There’d been too much of that in the hospital and while Glenda had helped pack up her forgotten life. Pretense. No pretense this time, and she simply smiled.

* * *

Coop wasn’t immune to that smile, not by a far sight. With eyes used to assessing men’s condition, he scanned Kylie. Still recovering, still not at full strength and still very much uneasy. But dang, when she smiled it was as if the sun lit the room.

She looked a bit like Glenda, and they’d always be recognized as sisters, but despite all she’d been through, Kylie still looked softer. Not physically softer, but emotionally softer. Of course, he’d heard all the bad stuff about Glenda’s divorce from Connie, but this was different. Whatever Kylie had been through, apparently she didn’t remember it, and failing to remember it had perhaps saved her kinder side.

Or maybe he was imagining it. All he knew for sure was that he felt the punch of attraction in his gut, both unwanted and dangerous. This woman needed to be sheltered for a while, and she didn’t need some guy like him coming on hot and heavy.

Still, it didn’t hurt to admire her wide hazel eyes, her small pert nose or the smile that hinted at an ability to hit the megawatt range when she was truly happy. Her light brown hair was almost blond, lighter than her sister’s. With effort he turned his attention back to Glenda.

“You’re working tonight, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So let me run over to Maude’s and bring you both back something for dinner. Connie’s patrolling tonight, too, and Ethan begged me to stay away so he could get the younger two kids to bed on time.”

A laugh escaped Glenda. “You’re a problem?”

Coop shrugged a shoulder, laughing himself. “Apparently I’m still new and exciting. I swear I don’t try to get them wound up.”

“Right,” said Glenda with a touch of sarcasm.

“Well, okay, they like to wrestle with me. So what do you two want for dinner? My treat.”

Glenda twisted around and pulled a paper menu from the diner off the fridge bulletin board, and a magnetic memo pad. “You need something solid to eat,” she told Kylie. “You’ve been pecking at your food like a bird and the doc said you need to eat more.”

“I eat what I can,” Kylie answered, sounding defensive.

“Then pick something with a lot of calories.”

Coop watched with amusement, sensing the older-younger sister dynamic at work. Kylie looked a bit rebellious, and Glenda was every inch the knowledgeable nurse.

“Say,” he said, “just order what you want and let Glenda yell at me. I’m not force-feeding anyone.”

Kylie looked at him and her smile returned, just a small one. “A brave man.”

“Who me?” He laughed.

Glenda spoke. “He doesn’t know me well yet.” Then she tapped the menu. “Pick whatever looks good. Just don’t go for another salad. You’re going to turn green.”

Kylie pulled the menu over in front of herself, and Coop noticed for the first time how fragile and small her hands were. She’d been a nurse? There must be more strength there than was immediately obvious. Of course, from what he’d heard, she’d been to hell and back. He figured her amnesia had to be a good thing.

But what did he know? he asked himself as he stepped outside at last with the list. The late-afternoon sun still bathed the world, though the air was growing chillier as evening approached.

He noticed the light. Light could be a good thing, providing clear sight lines and plenty of warning of bad things that might come. On the other hand, darkness had its advantages, too, like lots of cover. Odd to reflect that there’d been a time when he hadn’t much noticed the passage of hours or light, but over the years in the marines he’d become alert to its every shift and change. Just as he’d become highly attuned to changes in the wind, the barometric pressure, the movement of clouds, the whisper of even slight breezes. Acutely attuned to sounds, constantly cataloging them as natural or not.

He figured it would be a while before he settled into comfortably walking streets without being on guard.

But even as he noted the late-afternoon changes in the light and the town around him, his thoughts kept trailing back to Kylie Brewer. He’d seen that look in other eyes, that look of a terror that wouldn’t quite go away no matter how safe the situation. He’d seen that terror break grown men when it wouldn’t quit.

He hoped it wouldn’t break Kylie. Hell, she couldn’t even remember what had put it there, but that fear had evidently been stamped on her soul at a level so deep no memory was needed.

He hoped Glenda understood that. But how could she? She’d probably never dealt with anything like this.

But he had. A sigh escaped him as he pulled up in front of the diner. He would only be here a few weeks, but he felt an unexpected need to try to help Kylie in some way.

Fear like that wouldn’t just wash away. Sometimes it took years to drain. But maybe he could help it on its way.

Then he wondered if he was going to spend his time off by setting himself a new mission. It wouldn’t surprise him. He could have laughed at himself.

* * *

Glenda used the time to get Kylie settled into her old bedroom. She noted the way Kylie moved around, touching things, items that Glenda had taken care to put exactly where they had been before Kylie had moved out, including her pile of stuffed animals. The doc said she needed familiarity, so Glenda had ensured it was there.

She was relieved to see her sister’s face relaxing as she caressed various items. “I can’t believe it’s still the same.”

“No reason to change it,” Glenda half lied. “Your house, too.”

Kylie sat on the edge of the bed. “I don’t remember,” she said finally. “I barely remember Brad, except what you told me about him, and your divorce...”

“Was about as ugly as they come,” Glenda answered frankly. She sat in the Boston rocker facing the bed. “I wish I could forget it.”

“But why so ugly?”

“Brad.” Glenda shrugged. “Apparently it wasn’t enough to leave me—Brad wanted to gut me, too.”