Killer Amnesia

Her stalker was giving her sly nudges to let her know she wasn’t safe. He was letting her know there were no gaps in his memory of her.

Dear Reader (#u22cb81c8-7f93-5a06-ab89-82f66e3c9229),

When I first started writing, a mentor encouraged me to tape a picture of a “reader” to my computer to remind me of the most important part of the story—you. The reader is the most essential contribution to any book. Writers only provide the framework; your imagination does the rest. Now when I sit in front of my computer, I know I’m writing for Terrill, Valri, Debra E. and Trixi. I’m writing for Marnita, Bobby, Vernell and Cathy... I’m writing for you. I hope you enjoyed Liam and Emma’s journey!

I love connecting with readers and would enjoy hearing your thoughts on this story. If you’re interested in learning more about this book or others that I have written, I have more information on my website: sherrishackelford.com (http://www.sherrishackelford.com). I can also be reached at email: sherri@sherrishackelford.com, or at PO Box 116, Elkhorn, NE 68022.

My sincerest gratitude for being the reason I’m able to do what I love each day!

Sherri Shackelford

Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.

—Psalm 51:10

To the people who stay up later than they should to read the next page, to the people who can immediately flip to their favorite scene in their favorite book, to the people who save the last page until the next day because they’re not quite ready to let go of their new friends... To all the readers in the world, thank you! The laundry can wait; it’s time for an adventure.

Contents

Cover (#ucda33863-e3ac-5b99-91bd-bc59b096f1ba)

Back Cover Text (#u10a70573-9426-58e0-9030-7b4098c0aa5b)

About the Author (#u3e200124-c3b6-55ad-8ab8-bf113b9d7db9)

Booklist (#uae08e304-71c0-542c-86df-0ff66c8c59c7)

Title Page (#ufe1aded0-7884-5f15-9fca-4cb5851f86e7)

Copyright (#u6ea59053-1c5e-5db8-86fb-247d34e49e0a)

Note to Readers

Introduction (#u3ee52dc9-9a13-551a-b636-272cff4a168b)

Dear Reader (#u92f152e9-15d6-57e5-8b37-afffe372dbca)

Bible Verse (#u2e6162d1-edd0-5f67-a2b8-5f47a67c1b81)

Dedication (#u92c7be14-f80f-53f2-8d73-36cb91bc77f8)

ONE (#udec2e486-89d7-5d9d-888e-12eb885471c2)

TWO (#u16da1afd-0112-554b-9fe3-78ee28b4ea61)

THREE (#ucd1cbea1-4a95-5f19-929f-527eb9b8d0b7)

FOUR (#u1df135a6-b277-567f-9461-1ef94ce9594d)

FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

ONE (#u22cb81c8-7f93-5a06-ab89-82f66e3c9229)

Deputy Liam McCallister was a dead man.

At least that’s what everyone back in Dallas thought. Until six months ago, he was working undercover in the Gang Unit of the Dallas Police Department. Now he was stuck in a small town directing traffic under the name Deputy McCourt. At least the US Marshals had assigned him a job in law enforcement while the district attorney wrapped up the case. They figured he was safe as long as he kept a low profile. No one from the Serpent Brotherhood would be caught dead in Redbird, Texas.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

If the Serpent Brotherhood knew they’d been infiltrated, they’d shut down their operations. This was better. Except one month had turned into six without a break in the case, and the wait was starting to get to him.

Fighting his way through the pelting downpour, Liam adjusted the flashing yellow barricades and ducked into his state-issue Chevy Tahoe. Heavy rains had washed out the road. There was no escaping Redbird, Texas, tonight.

A shock of static sounded from his police radio, and a familiar voice filled the cab.

“Unit 120,” Rose Johnson, the dispatcher, called.

Soaking wind slapped against his windshield in pounding bursts. Lightning streaked across the black sky, temporarily illuminating a bank of angry clouds.

Liam grasped the microphone and depressed the Call button. “Unit 120.”

“Single car accident on Highway 214,” the dispatcher relayed. “Personal injury. Mile-marker 37. Just beyond Brown Cattle feeders. Unit 130 is on scene. Requesting assistance. Fire and rescue en route.”

“Ten-four. Responding from County Road 12.”