With the Material Witness in the Safehouse. Carla Cassidy
Читать онлайн книгу.
the better. If I have to go to him later, I will. But at the moment I’m trying to keep this as low-key as possible.”
“Okay, it’s your call,” Michael said. “Is she still not remembering anything?”
“Nothing,” Ryan replied. “Who knows if she’ll ever remember what happened in Boston. I just wish she could remember where she’s been since she arrived here in Raven’s Cliff.”
“You have any ideas at all?”
Ryan frowned once again. “No, not a clue,” he finally replied. “But hopefully that will change over the next couple of days.”
After he hung up, Ryan remained standing on the dock, staring out at the storm clouds that drew closer. The approaching darkness in the sky filled him with a sense of apprehension.
He was a man trained in dealing with facts, and there was absolutely no factual basis for what he felt in his soul. And what he felt was that there was an evil here in Raven’s Cliff and for four days Britta had somehow been a part of it.
Chapter Four
After Ryan left the cottage, Britta carried the bags of items he’d bought her into the bedroom and began to unpack them. Toothpaste, toothbrush, deodorant and hair products went into the bathroom on a shelf, then she pulled out the clothing he’d bought for her.
By the very items he’d chosen for her, she’d guess that he didn’t know her as well as she’d thought. She frowned as she pulled out two pairs of baggy sweatpants, one in blue and one in black. There were matching sweatshirts, as well, and both were two sizes too big.
She couldn’t remember a lot of things, but she was sure this wasn’t her normal choice of clothing. He’d certainly not opted for making a fashion statement, unless it was a bad one.
As she pulled out a pair of flannel pajamas, she stifled a groan. She was relatively certain she’d never slept in flannel pajamas in her life.
More than anything Ryan had said to her, this indicated that their previous relationship had been strictly business. Still, there had been that moment when she’d awakened in the bed and had stared at him seated next to her and a memory had niggled, teasingly trying to make itself known.
For just a moment she thought she could remember the hot taste of his mouth. For one insane second she thought she had a memory of being in his arms, of his hard, muscled body pressed intimately against hers.
She shook the crazy thought out of her head and hung the clothes in the closet. The strange thing was that while there was a sense of comfortable familiarity about him, she also felt just a touch of disquiet where he was concerned. It wasn’t exactly fear, but just the feeling that she needed to be wary.
She had no choice but to trust him for the moment, but if she got a sense that he was a real, physical threat, she’d run. She might not know everything about her past, but she’d do whatever necessary to ensure she had a future.
He’d already indicated to her that there had been one attempt on her life while she’d been in his custody. She wondered if a member of the gang she’d testified against had found her here in Raven’s Cliff. Had one of them somehow held her against her will? Injected her with the drug that had stolen her memories?
But why would they do that? She’d already been in court and testified. Her memories of the shoot-out that night at the hotel were documented in court files. What good would it do anyone to try to get rid of her now, so long after the fact? It just didn’t make sense.
She hoped Ryan came back with some answers. According to what he’d told her, she’d entered the Witness Protection Program. That meant she’d agreed to leave her old life behind. She’d given up her job, the little apartment she’d called home and all her friends.
She had no relatives. She’d lost both her parents three years ago. Thank God they hadn’t been alive to see the mess that her life had become.
What she needed to do was focus on where she went from here. Surely Ryan didn’t intend for them to be here in Raven’s Cliff for too long, and then she’d be relocated.
The last bag she opened was the one she had brought with her from the clinic. Inside was the white gown she’d been wearing when Ryan had found her, along with the necklace that had been around her neck.
She pulled out the gown and ran a trembling hand over the gauzy material. The bottom was dirty and crusted with sand. She’d hoped by touching it, by looking at it closely, a memory would blossom in her head, but all she got was a vague feeling of fear.
The necklace was made of dozens of chunky pretty shells threaded onto a thin piece of fishing line. Where had it come from? Who had made it? And why had she been wearing it and the gown and wandering in the old lighthouse? She ran her hand across the shells.
Go to the sea.
The words were a faint whisper in her ear and she quickly snatched her hand away from the odd necklace, quieting the strange inner voice.
Unsettled even more than she had been, she shoved the items back into the bag and placed them on the floor of the closet, then left the bedroom.
The first thing she did when she returned to the kitchen was check the refrigerator to see what food was in there. It was fully stocked, as was the freezer. Apparently the FBI had the power not only to change who you were, but also to stock a refrigerator with enough food to last a month.
She pulled out a package of steaks to thaw. She’d cook the evening meal tonight, but if Ryan thought she was going to spend the days here cooking and cleaning for him he had another think coming.
Her mother had been a strong, independent woman, a wonderful role model for Britta. Chores at her house had been equally shared between husband and wife, and Britta’s father had never treated her mother like “the little woman” whose only job was to cook and clean for him.
A search of the kitchen cabinets yielded a notebook and a pen. She grabbed herself a cold can of diet soda, then sat down at the table to make a list of what she wanted her new life to be. Someplace in the back of her mind she knew it was a desperate attempt to regain control.
She knew she could never go back to the kind of job she’d once wanted, as manager of an upscale hotel. She’d seen enough movies to know that when you entered the Witness Protection Program you not only gave up friends and family, but also any ties to the kind of job you’d once had. She was a bit surprised that she’d been set up as a housekeeper at the Cliffside Inn.
Maybe in her next life she’d be a waitress or a cashier in a grocery store. The degree she’d obtained in hotel management would probably never be used again.
A rumble of thunder broke the silence and a small sliver of fear tightened her stomach muscles. Funny, she didn’t think she’d ever been afraid of storms before, but the kitchen was suddenly too small, too dark, and the approaching storm touched off an unexpected edge of anxiety.
She tried to focus on the paper in front of her but jumped and let out a small squeal as lightning flashed at the window, followed by another growl of thunder. Rain began to pelt down, and she found it impossible to sit any longer.
Surely the rain would bring Ryan back soon. It surprised her how much she didn’t want to be alone. As another strobe of lightning flashed, she left the kitchen and went into the living room.
At that moment she heard a key in the front door and Ryan came in, dripping water and cursing beneath his breath. “Does the sun ever shine in this place?” he asked, obviously not expecting an answer.
She hurried into the bathroom, grabbed a towel, then returned to the living room and handed it to him. He flashed her a grateful smile as he swiped it over his short brown hair.
She curled up in one corner of the sofa and fought the impulse to jam her hands over her ears as the thunder crashed overhead. A vision flashed in her head…she saw the hotel lobby decorated in gold and orange for the holiday. The lobby of the Woodlands Hotel offered lush