Fractured Memory

Eli’s goal was to make it clear to Hank that that was exactly what he needed to do to help ensure Julia’s safety.

As he entered the facility, he spied the U.S. Marshal who was working undercover dressed as a volunteer to help keep an eye on things. They acknowledged each other only with the briefest glance as Eli approached the receptionist’s desk and inquired about Hank’s room.

She pointed down the hall. “Third door on the left.”

Eli inhaled deeply. He undid the top button of his dress shirt, loosened his tie and tried to dismiss the vexing nature that the fading imprint of holding Julia in his arms had on him. He knocked softly, semihoping that Hank might be napping.

“Enter.” The voice was strong—anything but weakened with age.

He stepped inside. On the wall hung several commendations and awards from Hank’s law enforcement career. They locked eyes, Hank’s brown eyes, so similar to Julia’s, clearly sizing Eli up.

“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal son.”

Hank, a few inches shorter than Eli, struggled to plant his cane and push himself up from the rocking chair.

Eli crossed the room quickly and grabbed his forearm to steady his tremors. Parkinson’s disease had ravaged his body and laid waste to his muscles. He was a hunched-over remnant of the man in the photos.

“Sir, please, you don’t have to get up.”

“I always like to meet a man eye-to-eye. Particularly one who took such an interest in my granddaughter.”

Holding tightly on to Eli, Hank struggled to a standing position and clasped Eli’s hand in his strong, chafed, leathery one. Even though his other muscles were weak, the ones in his hand were seemingly spared from the ravages of the disease.

“I know you were the detective on Julia’s case. Recognize your face from the newspaper stories but you’re also the one who helped with her rehab. Or am I just being presumptuous?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Nice to officially meet you, son. I’m Hank Galloway.”

“Eli Cayne, sir.”

“Now sit down,” Hank ordered.

Eli assisted Hank back to a sitting position and grabbed a folding chair that sat against the wall.

“I take it your visit has to do with Julia’s strange call earlier today.”

“It does, sir.”

Hank muted the game show he’d been watching and began to rock in his chair. “I noticed a new volunteer working today. Does that have to do with you, too?”

“It does, sir.”

“But you’re not going to tell me what’s going on?”

Eli sighed and settled his back against the cool metal of the chair. He eyed the door. The less Hank knew about Julia’s situation, the better off he was, but Eli also knew Hank’s bloodhound genes wouldn’t let him sit idle—Parkinson’s or not.

Maybe just letting him in on the secret was the best way to keep him from trouble.

“The U.S. Marshals’ office is concerned that a hit has been placed on Julia’s life. I’ve placed her in protective custody.”

The chair creaked as Hank pushed it back and forth for a good minute, his eyes never leaving Eli’s, the squeaking like voltage up Eli’s spine.

“So you’re with the U.S. Marshals now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t have much in the way of financial reserves, but I’d like to give you some money to offset the costs from all the help you gave Julia.”

Eli lifted his hands up. “It’s not necessary, sir. I was honored to be able to help.”

“Seems unusual for a man to take such interest in a girl and not want anything in return.”

And there it hung in the air between them. It was time for Eli to verbalize to this patriarch that he never had any ill intentions as far as Julia was concerned.

Eli smoothed his palms over his legs. “At first, after rescuing Julia, I wanted to know if she was going to live. Being the one to find her that close to death—you can’t help wondering if you were there in enough time.”

“And then when that was clear?” Hank asked.

“Then Julia became the one person who could maybe tell us who this evil man was. When it was obvious that she was having difficulty remembering, I thought the stronger she physically became, the more likely she would remember. Helping with some of her rehab expenses, and spending time with her—encouraging her to get stronger—gave me the opportunity to continue to question her and test her memory.”

“All that time you spent with Julia, and yet we never met face-to-face...were you intentionally avoiding me?”

Eli smoothed his hands over his face. What answer would be the most reasonable? What answer wouldn’t make him seem like some creepy stalker? “I was worried about the case. I was worried that the defense could use my involvement in Julia’s rehab as a way to say the whole case against the Hangman was tainted. That I was wrongly influencing her. The more family members I interacted with then the more likely I could be accused of being improper so I did make myself scarce when you were around. What was most important was getting the Hangman off the streets. When Julia’s memory improved to the point that she was remembering things day to day but that the details of her attack were lost—I thought it was the best time to bow out.”

“And that was the only reason? To protect the case?”

“That was the only reason.”

Hank Galloway lifted an eyebrow—his built-in lie detector alarming.

Even to Eli, it didn’t feel as if he’d completely told the truth.

THREE (#ulink_6b1115dc-497c-5199-b162-adf58b53f918)

Eli parked his car behind the two agents who watched Julia overnight. His heartbeat picked up slightly. There was no denying he was anxious to see her again. He was excited to tell her the hit package had revealed a set of fingerprints they were hoping to get a match on. Thus far, the parolee remained elusive.

Exiting the car, Eli approached the other agents’ vehicle. A navy blue, older-model Ford Granada—in fact, the first type of car he drove as a teenager.

He used his knuckles to tap on the window. Will Sullivan and Jace Bastian looked his direction. Will sat in the passenger’s seat with the laptop of the security feed from Julia’s town house. Jace took the opportunity to exit the vehicle and stretch his legs. As he opened the door, two large McDonald’s coffee cups tumbled onto the broken pavement.

“How’d the night go?” Eli asked.

Jace pushed his hands toward the sky, a groan escaping his lip. “Nothing exciting to report. She read, she slept. Still sleeping.”

Eli glanced at his watch. It was almost nine. Julia said she was an early riser. Perhaps the stress of yesterday had taken its toll. It was a plausible explanation.

“Last contact?” Eli asked.