Savior in the Saddle Read online

  Why was she going there?

  Because she was supposed to have some lab tests and then an ultrasound. That wasn’t an actual memory, but she’d been told that by the police. Someone had called and told her she needed lab tests, but that had been a ruse to get her to the hospital.

  The ruse had worked.

  When the camera reached the lab desk, it stopped. Willa glanced around the corridor spread out in front of her and waited. She didn’t have to wait long. She saw the ski-mask-wearing man racing toward her. He was armed.

  “Don’t close your eyes,” the doctor insisted when Willa started to do just that.

  It was a challenge, but she forced herself to watch as the man came closer and closer to the camera.

  “Come with me,” the man demanded, and he jammed the gun at her.

  Willa didn’t want to go with him. She wanted to run out of the hotel suite, far away from the camera and the nightmarish images, but she forced herself to stay put.

  The gunman led her into the lab, past the cubicles where the techs drew blood. They went about twenty yards farther to a door with a sign that read: Authorized Personnel Only Beyond This Point. The man pressed in a code to get the door to open and led her into a room with computers and refrigerated storage containers.

  They stopped moving, so Willa looked around as far as the camera angle would allow. She took in as many details as she could manage. The glossy gray tile floor. The sterile white walls and ceiling. The way everything was arranged in precise order. The smell.

  She froze.

  The smell?

  Did she really remember that?

  Yes, she did. It wasn’t the disinfectant odor like the rest of the hospital. This particular area smelled like some kind of lab chemical.

  She felt the air-conditioning spill out from the overhead vents. The room was too cold, and she shivered. Willa waited for more sensations to come, and they did. They came at her hard and fast.

  Willa gasped and pressed her fingers to her mouth. “Oh, God. I remember.”

  Chapter Eight

  Brandon wasn’t sure which of them looked more surprised, but he thought he might be the winner. When Dr. Farris had started that DVD, and Willa had started to watch, the last thing he expected was for Willa to remember anything.

  But she apparently had.

  She kept her gaze fastened to the screen where the hostage situation continued to play out. It seemed like such a simple exercise. Visual cues of a nightmare. But Willa kept repeating those two words as if it were a mantra. Or a warning.

  I remember.

  “What do you remember?” Dr. Farris asked, taking the words right out of Brandon’s mouth.

  Willa pressed her fingertips to both sides of her head and began to rock. Brandon went and sat beside her, then put his arm around her.

  “It’s okay.” He tried to assure her, but he had no way of knowing if that was true.

  “I remember the gunman taking me into the lab,” Willa said. Her voice was barely a whisper, and he could feel her trembling.

  Brandon tightened his grip, and her hands dropped to her lap. “What else?” he pressed.

  Both the doctor and Cash moved closer, probably hoping they were all finally about to get answers. Brandon wanted those answers, too, but he hated that Willa was having to go through this all over again.

  “The gunman took me into a secure area,” she continued. “He pressed in some numbers on a key pad.”

  “Did he have the code written down?” Cash asked.

  Willa nodded. “On a piece of paper he took from his pocket. He opened the door and pushed me inside. ‘Go to the computer,’ he told me. And I did. I went to the one where he pointed. It was on the far side of the room, sitting on a desk.”

  Cash leaned down so that he’d be eye level with Willa. “What did he want you to do?”

  Before Willa could answer, Dr. Farris eased Cash out of the way. “No more questions, please. This will work best if Willa lets the memories come to her. And sometimes, these bits and pieces are all we’ll get. To be honest with you, I wasn’t sure it would even work this well.”

  Willa stared up at the doctor. “These aren’t bits and pieces,” she mumbled, her voice catching. “The gunman wanted me to hack into some secure files.” She paused. “I did it because he put a gun to my head and said he would kill me and the baby if I didn’t.”

  Brandon ignored the punch of anger he felt over what Willa had been through. He also ignored the doctor’s no-question warning. “What files?”

  “Ones that were being outsourced to the hospital,” Willa readily answered. “The files belonged to the San Antonio Police Department, and they were biological samples that were to be used in several active cases. He wanted me to hack into the files and alter the data.”

  Definitely not bits and pieces. This was the sort of information that could blow this case wide open.

  Brandon met Cash’s stare. “Is it routine for SAPD to outsource tests to the hospital?”

  Cash shook his head. “No. We usually use the Ranger lab in Austin, but there was a fire, and they got backlogged. I heard we were using some local hospitals to do some of the tests, but I didn’t know it was this specific hospital.”

  “Dean Quinlan,” Willa said out of the blue. “It was his name on the files. He was listed as the file manager. Do you know him?” she asked Cash.

  “Yeah.” Cash propped his hands on his hips and mumbled some profanity. “He’s one of our CSIs. Well, he used to be anyway. He resigned shortly after the hostage incident to take a job elsewhere.”

  The doctor turned off the DVD and looked at Willa. “What else do you remember?”

  Willa opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it. “Nothing. That’s all.”

  “You don’t remember what specific files the gunman wanted you to hack into?” Cash demanded.

  She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. I remember sitting down at the computer, and I remember seeing Dean Quinlan’s name as the file custodian, but that’s it. Everything else after that is a blank.” She started to tremble again, and Brandon pulled her closer to him.

  Cash checked his watch. “I need to talk to Dean Quinlan and anyone else who knew about those files being processed at the maternity hospital. I’ll let you know what I find out.” He took out his phone and headed into one of the suite’s bedrooms.

  “Your memory might continue to return,” Dr. Farris told her. She paused to take Willa’s pulse. “Sometimes, when you recall portions of the traumatic events, other details soon follow.”

  Willa nodded and pulled in a long breath. While that was good news for the investigation, Brandon knew this would be hell for Willa. After all, the gunman had likely been trying to kill her when she fell and injured her head.

  “How are you feeling?” Dr. Farris asked.

  “Exhausted.” Willa adjusted her position and placed her head against Brandon’s shoulder. “Could you give me a few minutes to gather my thoughts?”

  Dr. Farris nodded, but she didn’t look at all certain about leaving Willa. Finally, though, she walked toward the second bedroom, went inside and shut the door.

  The moment the doctor was out of sight, Willa’s head swooshed off his shoulder, and she stood. “I remembered some other things,” she whispered.

  Brandon froze. He didn’t think her memory had returned just this instant. No. It had probably come with the other memories, but Willa had been smart not to tell all to the doctor. While Brandon still trusted Cash, he didn’t know Dr. Farris and was glad Willa had withheld something that might put her in even more danger.

  If that was possible.

  “The gunman tried to call Dean Quinlan while we were in that secure area of the lab,” Willa continued. “He had Quinlan’s name and number written on the back of the paper with the codes he used to get past the door.”

  “Did he actually speak to Quinlan?” Brandon, too, kept his voice at a whisper and stood so he could be closer to her.

&
nbsp; She shook her head. “His cell phone couldn’t get a signal in that part of the lab.”

  Probably because the walls had been reinforced for safety reasons, he thought. Labs and X-ray areas often have metal barriers to stop the harmful rays from getting into other parts of the building.

  “The gunman was frustrated because he couldn’t seem to read his notes,” Willa explained. “He finally showed them to me, and that’s when I saw the names of the files I was supposed to access. There were three of them—the first was Baby Martinez.”

  “That makes sense,” Brandon concluded. “Misty Martinez was a San Antonio woman who was murdered, and her newborn was missing. Since Misty had stored the baby’s umbilical cord at the maternity hospital, SAPD requested a DNA test so they could identify the biological father, who turned out to be her killer.”

  Willa’s eyes widened. “Please tell me I didn’t do anything to that DNA sample that allowed a killer to get away.”

  “No. The biological father, Gavin Cunningham, was arrested and got a life sentence.”

  She nodded but didn’t relax. “The second name on the list was Jessie Beecham…” She paused, shook her head. “And Wes-somebody.”

  “Dunbar,” Brandon provided. And he cursed.

  Willa blinked. “You know these people?”

  “I know of them. Jessie Beecham was a wealthy club owner with ties to the mob. He was murdered earlier this year, and the prime suspect was a rival club owner named Wes Dunbar.”

  SAPD had sent Brandon the initial reports of the investigation because Wes Dunbar had a country estate in Crockett Creek, Brandon’s own town. At the time he’d read those reports, Brandon had no idea just how personal that case would become. Of course, the question was did the investigation into Jessie Beecham’s murder have anything to do with Willa’s situation?

  Maybe not.

  Maybe the culprit who’d hired Shore was simply someone who was tying up loose ends for the now-dead gunman who’d held her hostage. Maybe an unknown accomplice. What Brandon needed was more information, and that included a case update on Jessie Beecham’s murder.

  He glanced at the room where Cash had gone to make his call about the former CSI, Dean Quinlan. He looked at the room where the doctor was as well. And he got a really bad feeling about all of this. God knows who Dr. Farris had already told about Willa’s regained memory, and Cash’s calls and questions would almost certainly alert the wrong people.

  “We need to get out of here?” Willa asked, obviously noticing the alarm on his face.

  “Yeah.” He grabbed her bag and her arm.

  Brandon hoped to hell it wasn’t too late.

  WILLA WAS BEYOND TIRED of being on the run, but she knew Brandon was right to get them out of there. Maybe both Cash and Dr. Farris were on the up-and-up, but that didn’t mean someone, including Martin Shore, would get word that she had remembered what had gone on in the lab the day the maternity hostages were taken.

  Brandon eased the suite door shut behind them and got them moving to the elevator. He had her bag slung over his shoulder and kept one hand on her and the other within easy reach of his gun. Willa held her breath until they were in the elevator and the doors slid shut. They weren’t out of danger yet, not by a long shot, but she wanted to put as much distance as possible between the suite and them.

  “What do we do now?” she asked and mentally cursed the fatigue and fog in her head.

  She should have already figured that out for herself, but here she was again relying on Brandon. Once they were safely away from the hotel, she had to find some time to come up with a new plan—and a couple of backup ones.

  “We need a vehicle and some cash,” Brandon answered. “I have to get you to a safe place, and we can’t get there on foot with Shore this close and every cop in San Antonio looking for us.”

  That “safe place” part certainly sounded good to her, but was it even doable?

  “I have some cash in the bag,” Willa let him know. “About five hundred dollars.”

  But she would need a lot more than that if she had to go into hiding for any length of time. Which she probably would. That meant making a trip to the banks in Austin or San Antonio, so she could get to one of her safety deposit boxes where she’d stashed more money.

  Brandon stopped the elevator on the second floor. “It’s too risky to go into the main part of the lobby,” he told her.

  So, they left the elevator and went into the stairwell. Brandon stopped long enough to look at the emergency exit route map that was on the wall. Willa looked as well and wasn’t pleased that the stairs ended so close to the lobby. They would still be in sight of the front desk and entrance. But hopefully not for long. There appeared to be a back exit just off a coffee shop. She prayed the door there wasn’t rigged with an alarm.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Brandon stopped and peered out through the glass insert in the door. “No sign of Shore or other cops,” he relayed to her.

  That didn’t give her any sense of relief. Shore had gotten the jump on them before, and it could happen again.

  They left the meager cover of the stairwell and stepped out into the back part of the lobby, which was just ten or fifteen feet from the coffee shop. They only made it a few steps before Brandon pulled her into a shallow recessed area that led to the ladies’ room. He maneuvered her behind him.

  “Shhh,” he warned.

  Her heart went to her knees, and she came up on her tiptoes so she could look over his shoulder. Willa dreaded what she would see.

  There were several people milling around in the lobby and two hotel employees behind the check-in desk. She certainly didn’t see the apparent threat Brandon thought was there, but she had no intention of leaving their hiding place, either. She stood there waiting with her breath held.

  Two of the people in the lobby picked up their suitcases and headed for the front exit.

  That’s when Willa spotted the man.

  He was on the other side of the check-in desk, partly hidden behind a massive plant.

  Oh, God.

  It was Martin Shore.

  He was volleying glances between the elevator and the front door. And she recognized what he held in his hand.

  Her PDA.

  Willa clamped her teeth over her bottom lip so that her gasp wouldn’t be loud enough to draw anyone’s attention—especially Shore’s. How had he actually found them? Had Cash or Dr. Farris alerted him, or had Shore merely followed her PDA and guessed their location? His presence could be a fishing expedition, but it didn’t matter. He was there—so close—and that meant the danger was there again too.

  The baby began to kick, hard, and since her belly was pressed against Brandon’s back, he no doubt felt it. He glanced over his shoulder at her but then nailed his attention back on Shore.

  They couldn’t wait long in the alcove without someone noticing them, and it wouldn’t be wise to try to hide out in the ladies’ room where they would be trapped. Soon, if not already, Cash and the doctor would realize they were missing and would come looking for them. That would no doubt confirm to Shore that they were still in the building. Besides, she didn’t want anyone, including Cash and Dr. Farris, to find them. Willa only wanted to get out of there.

  “We need to move fast when we get outside,” Brandon whispered.

  Willa nodded and hoped that fast would be fast enough.

  Part of her wondered if it was best just to have a showdown with Shore. Here and now. After all, Brandon was a cop. He knew how to take down a killer. But Shore wasn’t an ordinary killer. He wouldn’t give up without a hard fight, and that would mean bullets flying. Innocent people could be killed. And once again, her precious baby would be in harm’s way.

  “Now!” Brandon ordered.

  He turned, not abruptly though. He kept his movement unhurried. He also kept her in front of him so that he was between Shore and her. Brandon was protecting her yet again.

  The dozen or so steps to the exit se
emed to take a lifetime, but Willa knew it was only a few seconds. Brandon shoved open the door and got her outside.

  The burst of cold air hit her in the face, but she didn’t take the time to catch her breath. Brandon got them moving, not across the parking lot where they could easily be seen. He led her toward the back of the hotel, and they hurried past the service and delivery entrances. There were men unloading boxes, but none seemed to pay any attention to them.

  Brandon kept watch behind them and then stopped when they reached the corner of the building. There was about ten yards of wide-open space between the hotel and the next building, which was a one-story chain restaurant.

  “Let’s move,” Brandon insisted, and they quickly got across to the back of the restaurant.

  They repeated that process for three more buildings, putting some distance between the hotel and them.

  Willa heard the sirens, but it only heightened her fear. However, Brandon paused and looked out as if he were considering the possibility of going to the responding officers.

  “Please tell me you’re not going out there,” she whispered.

  “Not a chance.” He grabbed her arm again and got them moving farther away from the hotel and from those approaching sirens.

  “Then where are we going once we get a car?” Willa demanded.

  Brandon lifted her hand so she would have a reminder of what she’d written there. “You have to trust me a little longer, Willa. Because I’m taking you to the one place I know where I can keep you safe.”

  Chapter Nine

  They were home.

  Well, they were at his home anyway, Willa amended.

  It was apparently the one place he knew where he could keep her safe. Maybe he felt that way because of the two dogs. The minute they turned into the gravel driveway that led to the isolated house, two Dobermans came racing toward them. Neither dog looked very welcoming, and they barked and chased the car.