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She pressed the gas pedal, yanking the steering wheel sharply left and right. The tires slowly turned and managed to grip onto some hard ground. With a huge surge, they began moving and made it onto the cracked asphalt of the old prison road.
Joanna let out a holler of relief. “We made it!”
Sheriff Beck looked over at her as they raced from the prison. “Nice driving. What did you say your name was?”
She still found it hard to believe he didn’t even know her name. They had almost kissed once, and now she was a stranger to him. “Joanna Graham, sir.”
He turned and reached into the backseat, picking up his hat. “Is this mine?”
“Yes, sir. You’ve been the sheriff of Yardley County for two years now.”
He ran his finger over the gold badge mounted on the front of the hat. “Well, if everything you say is true, Deputy Graham, I’m going to need a lot of help filling in some serious gaps in my memory.”
“Don’t worry, sir,” she said, taking a turn onto the freeway, which would lead them straight to the hospital. “I got your back.”
He smiled. “I can see why I chose you as my deputy. You’re tough.”
“I was already the deputy when you took over the sheriff’s job,” she said. “So technically speaking, I chose you.”
* * *
Tyler studied his reflection in the mirror in his hospital room. Signs of the last few years were evident on his face: a few more lines and wrinkles where none had been before. His sandy-colored hair was beginning to gray a little, still cut in his usual, closely cropped style. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, frustration bubbling up inside. Why could he remember nothing of the last seven years? Why was his last memory of the Dark Skies mission he had served in Afghanistan? What had happened since? He glanced down at his left hand. No ring. At least he hadn’t gotten married. Although maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. He knew that he was approaching forty years of age by now. And yet he still remained a single man.
After a CAT scan on his arrival at the hospital, Tyler had been given strong painkillers while his head wound had been stitched by a nurse, who spoke to him like she knew him well, although he didn’t recognize her at all. Since she had left him alone, the silence gave Tyler time to think. The effects of the drug were still at work, making him light-headed and woozy, and he wished that Deputy Graham were in the room with him, giving him answers to some burning questions.
The door opened and a young doctor entered, carrying a medical chart.
“Please sit down, Sheriff,” he said, signaling to the bed. “You look a little pale.”
Tyler sat, leaning forward, hands clasped together in an automatic position of prayer. He found it comforting that one thing he most certainly hadn’t forgotten was his unwavering faith in God. This particular memory must be tucked away nice and deep where no amount of injury could reach.
Tyler looked at the doctor and laughed. “Either I’m getting older or doctors are getting younger. You can’t be more than twenty years old.”
The doctor smiled. “I’m twenty-five years old, Sheriff Beck. My name is Dr. Wayne Sinclair.”
Tyler widened his eyes in shock. “No way! You’re Bob Sinclair’s boy from Addenbrook Farm? The last time I saw you, you were just out of high school. You look all grown up.”
Dr. Sinclair sat on a chair and wheeled it with his feet across the floor. He positioned himself close to Tyler and took a tiny flashlight from his top pocket.
“I left school a good few years ago, sir. I’m a newly qualified doctor now. The hospital’s attending physician thought that I should be the one to treat you because you’ve known me my whole life.” He shone the light into Tyler’s eyes. “We hoped it might trigger some recent memories. You came to my wedding last year. Do you remember?”
Tyler shook his head. “I’m trying hard, but nothing’s coming back.”
The doctor leaned away from his patient. “While we couldn’t detect any obvious damage on your brain scan, it would seem that your temporal lobe has suffered an impairment that can’t be seen. This would account for the loss of memory. I understand that the last thing you remember is being on a Navy SEAL mission in Afghanistan, right?”
“That’s right, but I’ve been told this was almost seven years ago.” He gave a groan of frustration. “I just can’t get my head around it.”
The doctor touched his arm in a calming gesture. “I understand. The brain is a highly complex piece of machinery, and we simply don’t know why or where your recent memories have gone. But the good news is that most memory loss of this type is recovered spontaneously. It’s just a question of time.”
Tyler rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. The painkillers had dulled the throbbing of his temples, but he still felt them pulsating, like hammer blows through cotton balls. “How much time?”
“That’s the million-dollar question,” the doctor replied. “Let’s give it a week or two, and if nothing seems to be coming back, we’ll start you on a program of rehabilitation.” He stood. “In the meantime, there’s somebody who’s been waiting anxiously in the corridor to see you.”
“Who?”
“Deputy Joanna Graham. I think it’s a good idea for you to speak with her. She might be able to help you recall some of the last few years you’ve been in Godspeed. It’s worth a try.”
Dr. Sinclair opened the door to reveal Joanna leaning against the wall, hands shoved deep in her pockets, staring solemnly at the floor. Festive gold tinsel hung limply along the wall behind her, looking as sad and tired as she did. When she looked up and saw Tyler sitting in his hospital room, she gave him a broad smile, triggering a sensation of warmth in his chest. He began to wonder if they had ever been romantically linked. Would he know if they were dating?
The doctor stepped out. “I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll come back later.”
Now was Tyler’s perfect opportunity to fill in some of those gaps.
“Come on in, Deputy,” he said. “It’s nice to see a familiar face.”
* * *
Joanna wasn’t sure how to treat Sheriff Beck. He was still her superior, yet he was somehow vulnerable and brought out a feeling of tenderness in her. It was an instinct she had fought long and hard to suppress, since she was always living on borrowed time, never knowing if she had fifty years left to live or fifty days.
She decided to keep it professional. That’s what Tyler would want.
“The SWAT team arrived at the prison just a little too late to catch any of the gang members alive,” she said. “They recovered seven bodies, and the lab equipment had been destroyed by gunfire. The police are sifting through it all for evidence.”
Tyler approached her. He was tall and wide, and often reminded her of a pro wrestler, despite his boyish face. Since his election in Godspeed, he’d become known as the baby-faced sheriff and was popular with everyone, particularly the ladies, whom Tyler could charm to the moon and back.
“Before we continue this conversation,” he said, “there’s something I need to ask.”
“Shoot.”
He shifted on his feet. “It’s a little awkward.”
She guessed what he was getting at. “You want to know if we’re...um...you know.”
“Yes,” he said quickly. “Are we dating?” He looked uncomfortable. “Or have we dated in the past? It’s just that I get this feeling around you...” He broke off and laughed. “I feel stupid having to ask.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “We did go on a few dates about a year back, but it never worked out. It wasn’t serious. We never even kissed.”
“I see. So we still manage to work together and get along?”
“Sort of,” she replied diplomatically. “We have disagreements occasionally, but who doesn’t?” In truth she and Sheriff Beck made sparks fly but for all the wrong reasons. “You’re a man who prefers to play things by the book, and I play a little too fast and loose for your liking.” She bumped her clenched fists lightly together. “We kinda clash sometimes.”
At first their differences had been exciting, but after a while it had become obvious that they were fundamentally incompatible and mutually decided to end their fledgling romance. But their attraction to each other had never waned, and oftentimes she felt electricity crackle between them. Sheriff Beck regarded her as a risk taker, too reckless, too willing to put herself in the line of fire. But she didn’t care.
After an aggressive form of breast cancer had almost ended her life, she had quit her job as a biochemist in Boston and returned to her hometown of Godspeed to train as a local law-enforcement officer. Her parents couldn’t quite believe she was throwing away her Ivy League education to become a sheriff’s deputy, but she needed to feel more alive, more exhilarated. She needed to mask the dread she felt inside, knowing that her cancer could return to snatch her away at any moment. So she had jumped at the opportunity to go undercover in one of the most notorious criminal gangs in the Midwest. Tyler hadn’t wanted her to take the assignment. He’d said that she wasn’t ready, but she relished the chance to put herself at the heart of danger. She wanted to live every day as though it were her last.
Tyler’s face creased in thought. “I guess if we dated, you must know a lot about me. Why did I leave the SEALs to come back to Godspeed?” He looked down at his uniform. “Why did I swap black ops for writing traffic tickets?”
“Actually,” she said, “you do way more than write traffic tickets. Missouri has one of the worst meth problems in the US, and Godspeed has lost way too many residents to addiction. You came home to make a difference, to give us the benefit of your expertise and training. You’re a great sheriff, Tyler, you should know that. The whole of Yardley County is united behind you.”
“And when I came to the prison today, you were on an undercover assignment in a meth gang?”
“Yes,” she replied. “My background in biochemistry made me an ideal candidate to infiltrate the gang and learn their cook methods and means of distribution. I’ve been undercover for over six months now, and I was really close to meeting the kingpin of the whole operation.” She dropped her voice. “But somebody sold me out. When I arrived at the prison this evening, the gang members knew exactly who I was—my name, my rank, everything.”
Tyler listened closely. “Were you wired?”
“No. Until you truly earn their trust, the gang leaders check everybody for wires, cell phones and weapons. I agreed to go undercover, knowing that backup wouldn’t be an option if ever I got into trouble.”
“So how did you call for help?”
“Right after one of The Scorpions confronted me, a rival gang busted in and started shooting. It gave me enough time to make a run for it and grab somebody’s cell phone from a table as I passed. I called 9-1-1 first, and then I called you. I saw you arrive within ten minutes, but it was another five before I managed to find you.”
“Where is that cell phone now?” Tyler’s voice was so commanding, she almost forgot about his memory loss. “We should be trawling through its contacts.”
She held it up. “I have it right here. I switched it off just in case the gang can track it. I was going to discuss the matter with Chief Crenshaw when he arrived at the hospital. A nurse told me that he called to check if I was here. The SWAT team told him I’d vanished, so he tracked me down. He’s on his way over.”
Not a flinch of recognition passed over Tyler’s face when she mentioned Chief Crenshaw, despite him and the chief being well acquainted.
“George Crenshaw is Godspeed’s chief of police,” she continued. “He’s heavily involved in the Southern Missouri Drug Task Force, so I figured he’d know what to do with the cell phone.”
Tyler’s impassive eyes betrayed his lack of understanding. “You mentioned that back at the old prison. What is the Southern Missouri Drug Task Force?”
Joanna shook her head, admonishing herself. “I’m sorry. I’ve been really selfish. I shouldn’t be discussing this case with you when you should be concentrating on your own health.”
“Hey,” he said in his usual unhurried way. “No apology necessary. If I want to jog my memory, I need somebody reminding me what’s happening.”
The sudden sound of raised voices in the hallway caught Joanna’s attention. She recognized them as those of Chief George Crenshaw and the mayor of Godspeed, Harley Landon. And they were calling her name.
When the door to the room swung open, she knew instantly that something was wrong. Both men looked at her with angry eyes.
“Deputy Joanna Graham,” Chief Crenshaw said, pulling cuffs from his pocket. “I am placing you under arrest.”
* * *
Tyler automatically positioned himself between the two men and Joanna. “What’s the charge?”
“Police corruption and drug trafficking,” the bearded man said. “And that’s just for starters.”
Judging by his uniform, Tyler knew that this man must be Godspeed’s chief of police.
“Evidence recovered from the meth lab, located in the old Southern Missouri State Prison, shows that Deputy Graham is on the gang’s payroll,” the chief said. He stared directly at Joanna. “You sold out didn’t you, Deputy?”
Joanna pushed her palms forward as if trying to physically shun the accusation. “No!” she protested. “That’s not true. If I’d sold out, why would I leave evidence behind?”
“I’m guessing you got sloppy,” he replied. “For someone with a Harvard education, you sure can be dumb sometimes.”
Tyler saw a flash of resentment in the police chief’s eyes, and he didn’t like it. This vendetta seemed personal. He knew that he should recognize these men, particularly the ruddy faced, uniformed police chief. But he didn’t. And it put him at a disadvantage.
“Back off,” Tyler said, becoming defensive. “Let’s leave personal insults out of this. What exactly did you find to incriminate Deputy Graham?”
The chief slid his eyes over to Tyler. “The SWAT team recovered handwritten instructions, detailing exactly how many payments this deputy was due to receive in return for safe passage of meth out of Missouri. It gave me enough probable cause to obtain a search warrant for her home.” He eyeballed Joanna. “I found approximately two hundred thousand dollars in cash hidden in your closet. Now where do you suppose that came from, Deputy?”
Joanna’s face was stricken with horror. “No, no, no,” she repeated. “Somebody must have planted that there.”
Tyler’s mind began to work overtime. Leaving two hundred grand lying around your home didn’t seem like the smart thing to do, especially for someone with a Harvard degree.
“Chief,” he said. “Have you considered that Deputy Graham might be the victim of a setup? Handwritten notes don’t really prove anything. Somebody could’ve deliberately left them behind before going to her home and leaving the cash.”
The police chief softened his expression. “I’m sorry, Tyler. Young Dr. Sinclair told me that you took a blow to the head today and tried to insist that I shouldn’t bother you this evening, but I have a job to do. I’ve been led to understand that you might not remember me.” He exchanged glances with the other man in the room, who was a few years older and chubbier than the chief. “I’m Police Chief George Crenshaw, and this is the mayor of Godspeed, Harley Landon.”
Tyler knew that these men currently saw him as weak, so he had to change their perception.
“Yes, I know who you are,” he lied. “My memory loss was only temporary. I’m fully recovered.”
A slow smile spread across the chief’s face. “Well, I’m mighty pleased to hear it. You had us worried for a while there.” His smile faded. “I wish I didn’t have to do this to one of your deputies, but I have no choice. She needs to be remanded into custody until the Feds arrive to take over. I’d rather investigate the case myself, but you know how it is. Small-town chiefs like me get pushed aside when it suits the FBI.”
Tyler noticed Joanna rest her forehead in her palm. “This can’t be happening,” she muttered.
“Why don’t you let me run her in?” Tyler said. “I’d like to be the one to do that.”
At this point, the mayor intervened. “Thanks for the offer, Sheriff Beck, but that won’t be necessary. Chief Crenshaw and I will do all the paperwork.”
Tyler narrowed his eyes. “Since when did the mayor of Godspeed assist the police with arrests and paperwork? I know I forgot a few things, but I’m pretty sure that small-town mayors don’t have that kind of authority.”
The paunchy, middle-aged mayor reddened and cast his eyes downward. “Ah...well...sometimes I just like to go along for the ride.” He put his hands in the air. “But you’re right, Sheriff. Chief Crenshaw will handle all the paperwork.”
Tyler addressed the chief. “Where will Joanna be held?”
“She’ll be in the cell at the Godspeed police station for the night.” He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. “It’s my station, so I should take her in.”
Tyler had to think on his feet. “Come on, George,” he said with what he hoped was a note of familiarity. “Joanna’s my responsibility. At least let me take her to the cell and hand her over to you officially. Whatever she’s done, she’s under my jurisdiction.”
“Well, that’s not strictly true now, is it, Sheriff?” answered George, rubbing his neck. “The undercover operation at the old prison comes under my leadership, not yours.”
“But she’s my deputy,” Tyler said. “I’d like to deliver her to the cell myself. Why don’t you meet us at Godspeed station? Let’s not fight over jurisdiction. Not today.”
Chief Crenshaw thought for a moment, smiled, stepped toward Tyler and patted him on the back. “If you’re sure you’re feeling better, then I guess I can allow you to run her in. Has the hospital cleared you to leave?”
Tyler nodded firmly. “One of the docs gave me a clean bill of health,” he said, taking his cuffs and securing them around Joanna’s wrists. She flinched under his touch, but she didn’t put up a fight. “My cruiser is right outside. I’ll have Deputy Graham at the station in no time.”
Chief Crenshaw opened the door. “I’ll see you there,” he said walking purposely down the corridor with the mayor, seemingly anxious to start the process. “Don’t dawdle now.”
“I won’t,” Tyler said, pretending to adjust Joanna’s cuffs while watching the men enter the elevator. “I’m right behind you.”
He then checked the vicinity for Dr. Sinclair, spotting him intently studying brain scan images in a small adjacent room. Creeping along the hallway, Tyler approached the elevator and pressed the button, desperately hoping that the doctor wouldn’t see him leave.
His outward demeanor was cool and calm, but inwardly, he was battling some pretty intense emotions. His life had been turned upside down. Whether he liked it or not, he was the sheriff of a county he thought he’d left behind long ago. He’d swapped clandestine missions in far-off lands for local law enforcement in Yardley County, nestled in the boot heel of Missouri. He had been raised in Godspeed by his grandmother after his parents died in a traffic accident when he was just eight years old. His old-fashioned grandmother had taught him to be honest and upstanding and to always trust his gut. He wished she were still alive, able to reassure him that he was doing the right thing, that he wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of his life. But in the absence of both his grandmother and his memory, his gut was the only thing he could trust.
He steered Joanna into the elevator. “Is your memory really back?” she asked. He saw the desperate hope written on her face.
