The Texas Ranger

A prison? Maybe so. But was she ready to leave its safety? She didn’t know. But she knew that talking with Sam could be the beginning of a monumental change in her life. He would want to drag it all out. Every last bit. Even the parts she had buried so deeply that not even she knew what terrible things were there. No psychologist, no hypnotist had been able to reach it. It must be horrible.

Skye took a deep breath and looked up at her brother. “Tell him that I’ll talk to him tomorrow afternoon. Does he know that I have amnesia for the…event?”

Gabe nodded. “He knows.”

She left, went to her room and threw up.

SKYE DIDN’T SLEEP MUCH THAT night. Gabe had to come into her room twice to awaken her from a nightmare. An intercom connected her bedroom to his, and her screaming or Gus’s barking always brought him to soothe her back to sleep.

She’d been distracted at yoga class with Belle and at lunch later with Belle and Gabe.

“You don’t have to do this,” Gabe said as they drove home from town.

“Yes, I do. It’s time.”

She’d gone up to her sitting room to read, but she was still on the same page a half hour later when there was a knock on her door.

Startled, her heart pounding, she said, “Yes?”

“Skye, it’s me. Sam.”

Rising quickly, her book fell from her lap, knocking over a vase of gerbera daisies on the coffee table. Water went everywhere. “Oh, damn!”

Another knock came.

“Just a minute!” she yelled and ran for a towel from the bathroom.

Unsettled, Gus ran with her, barking.

Sam knocked again. “Skye, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she called. “Just a minute. Gus, sit!”

Gus sat, but he obviously didn’t like it and snarled at the door while she mopped up water from the table and tried to blot it up from the floor. “Oh, double damn!” She stuck the flowers back into the narrow-necked vase and tried to replace it on the table, but without the water to balance the weight, it kept listing, and she’d have to grab it to keep it from falling over.

Finally, holding the vase, she stomped to the door and swung it open.

Sam grinned and glanced at the flowers. “For me?”

“I—I had an accident. Let me put some water in these. Have a seat.” She gestured to the couch and chairs in her sitting room. “I’ll be right back.”

By the time she’d returned with the vase, Sam was sitting on the couch, his white hat in his hand. Gus still sat where she’d ordered, but he made low rumblings in his throat as he eyed Sam. Sam stood, and Gus’s ears went back.

“Gus, down. Stay. Quiet.”

Gus followed her commands, but he kept an eye on Sam. What was it with that dog and Sam?

“Sorry that Gus is being rude, Sam. I got upset over this blasted vase of flowers, and I suppose that he associated my agitation with you.”

“No problem.” Sam laid his hat on the coffee table. “Skye—”

“May I get you some coffee? Or a Coke?”

“No, thanks. Skye—”

“I’ll bet that there’s some juice in the fridge if you’d rather have that.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

She jumped to her feet. “I think I’ll have something.” She hurried to the mini-fridge disguised as a small chest and opened it. Grabbing a bottle of orange juice, she said, “Sure you don’t want something?”

“I’m sure.”

She opened the bottle and took a couple of swigs. Her hands shook, and she dribbled juice down the front of her blouse. “Triple damn! Excuse me.” She hurried to the bathroom again and blotted at the juice stains. They still showed on her white shirt. Quickly she changed her shirt and left the juice in the bathroom.

“Sorry,” she said when she returned. “I’m such a klutz sometimes.”

“I think you’re nervous.”

She took a deep breath. “I think you’re right.”

“I won’t bite. I promise.” He grinned.

How could she resist that expression? It was the epitome of the term boyish grin. She smiled. “I know you won’t.”

“Do you mind if I take notes and record our conversation?”

“No, but you won’t have much. I don’t remember anything.”

“Nothing?”

She shook her head.

Sam set a small tape recorder on the table and took a pad and pen from his pocket. “What was the date?”

“May 8. Six years ago.”

“See. You remembered that.”

She made herself take deep breaths and unlace her cramped fingers. “The last clear memory that I have is waving to my neighbor as Kaiser and I began our run.”

“What was the neighbor’s name?”

“Mrs. Howard, I think. I’m sure it’s in the police report. She said she was baking some gingerbread and that I should stop by for some after my run. I love gingerbread, and I can remember the smell of it.”

“So you can’t remember the man who grabbed you?”

She shook her head. “Not really. Sometimes I think I see his face in my dreams, but when I wake up, it’s gone.”