Roughshod Justice. Delores Fossen

know Mandy that well so she thought they might be friends.”

      Definitely not friends. Not with that blood in the apartment. Even though the neighbor hadn’t noticed any injuries, it didn’t mean Mandy hadn’t been hurt in some way. Now those goons had had her for five hours or more, and there was no telling what they could have done to her.

      “They’re holding her until I kill you.” Kelly hadn’t intended to say that aloud, but judging from the sound of agreement Jameson made, that was his theory, too.

      “Please tell me you’re remembering something. Anything,” he added, “that’ll help us with this.”

      Kelly tried again, but the jumble was still there. She tried to catch on to bits of it, but there was only one thing that was clear. “I’ll never see her again if they find out you’re still alive.” And finally something fell from that jumble. Not a memory. But an idea of how to fix it. “Is there a way for you to fake your death?”

      No sound of agreement, but he didn’t jump to nix the idea, either. “But then what? Whoever has your sister might just decide to tie up loose ends and kill her. You’re a loose end, too.”

      Yes. The worst kind. Because somewhere in that jumble of memories was perhaps the identity of the person responsible.

      “I can’t just sit here and wait,” Kelly said. Her voice hardly had any sound, and the blasted tears came again. She cursed the tears because they wouldn’t help. Heck, nothing might at this point. She could risk the men coming after her, but she couldn’t take the chance that they would murder Mandy.

      “There’s more,” Jameson said, sitting on the table beside her. “The neighbor gave the cops a description of the men who were with your sister.” He paused. “It matches the description of the two dead guys.”

      Kelly snapped back her shoulders and shook her head. “I don’t think Mandy was with me tonight. Was she?”

      “There was no sign of her, but the CSI team will process the dead guys’ SUV. We’ll also show the neighbor their pictures to see if she can confirm that’s really the people she saw.”

      And if they were the same men, then that could mean only one thing. Well, one thing if Mandy was still alive. “They wouldn’t just kill Mandy if they plan to use her for leverage to get me to do...something.” The “something” in this case was to murder Jameson. “That means they must have her stashed somewhere.”

      He nodded. “Gabriel will check it out. There might be something on their GPS. The CSIs will also check their phones so that we can try to pinpoint where they’d been in the past five hours.”

      All of that was a good start, but it wasn’t nearly enough. “I can search for her, too.”

      He gave her another of those flat looks. He was good at them, too. “You’re staying here and having those tests. In fact, you’ll probably have to spend the night here.”

      Now she was the one to give him a flat look. That wasn’t going to happen even if she had to sneak out. Too bad she hadn’t managed to hang on to at least one of those weapons the sheriff had confiscated. Of course, even if she had them, Kelly wasn’t sure she’d remember how to use them.

      “So what can I do?” she came out and asked.

      “You can stay put and let the cops and me do our jobs.” He opened his mouth, no doubt to add more. Probably a warning for her not to try to escape. But movement in the doorway caught their attention. At first, Kelly thought maybe it was the nurse coming to take her to those tests, but it was a man. Jameson got to his feet, moved in front of her and drew his gun.

      Kelly stood, too, and she peered over Jameson’s shoulder to get a better look at the man with the shaved head and bulky build. He was tall, at least six-four, and wearing a suit.

      “Frank Worley,” Jameson said like profanity. “What the hell are you doing here?”

      Worley. The man she’d been investigating when she disappeared. He might also be the man who’d hired those thugs to take Mandy.

      “No need for that gun,” Worley insisted. “And I’m going to show you why. Don’t shoot me when I pull back my jacket.”

      “Don’t give me a reason to shoot you,” Jameson countered. “But if you pull a gun, you’re a dead man.”

      “What I’m going to show you isn’t a gun, but I’m carrying one. And here’s why.” Worley eased open his jacket, and she immediately spotted something she hadn’t expected to see.

      A badge clipped to his belt.

      “I’m a Justice Department agent,” Worley added, his attention sliding from Jameson to her. “My real name is Lawrence Boyer. And I’m here to arrest Kelly for murder.”

       Chapter Three

      Jameson didn’t know who was more stunned with Worley’s announcement—him or Kelly. But Kelly did look as if she was about to try to sprint out of there. Jameson wouldn’t let her do that. Nor would he take anything Worley said, or what he was wearing, at face value.

      Including that badge or his name.

      “Federal agent, huh?” Jameson asked him, and he didn’t bother to sound even marginally convinced.

      Worley blew out a long breath as if annoyed with this. Well, Jameson was annoyed, too. He didn’t have time for this clown, especially since Worley could be behind the attack and Mandy’s disappearance. Jameson didn’t want to examine why he was suddenly on Kelly’s side. But when it came to Worley, he was.

      “I figured you wouldn’t believe me.” Worley checked his watch. “But you should be getting a call any second now from someone you will believe. Your brother, the sheriff. He’s verifying now that I’m an agent. Once that’s done, you’ll turn Kelly over to me.”

      “I won’t go with him,” Kelly said just as Jameson snarled, “Like hell I’ll turn her over to you.”

      That caused Kelly to look at him, and he saw not tears this time but an unspoken thanks. But a thanks wasn’t going to help right now. He needed some things cleared up.

      “Who are you claiming Kelly murdered?” Jameson asked.

      “Those two men your brother and his deputies are investigating.”

      Jameson certainly couldn’t deny that she had been the one to shoot them. In fact, the evidence pointed to her doing it. But the evidence was equally clear that she’d also been attacked, probably by those two men. Unless...

      He didn’t like even thinking it, but Jameson had to at least consider it. Kelly could be playing him again. She might have had a beef with those guys. Could have even written the note herself. But none of that felt right, especially now that Mandy was missing.

      “Who were those men?” Kelly asked Worley.

      Worley just stared at her. “You tell me.”

      “She can’t,” Jameson volunteered. “See that cut on her head? Someone clubbed her, and she has amnesia.”

      Worley looked as skeptical about that as Jameson probably had when he’d first heard Kelly say that she couldn’t remember. But some of that skepticism was fading. Worse, he suddenly felt the need to protect Kelly. Coupled with the remnants of the old attraction, that wasn’t a good combination.

      Jameson’s phone rang, the sound slicing through the room. Slicing through him, too, because he saw Gabriel’s name on the screen.

      “Worley’s here,” Jameson answered, and he put the call on speaker so that Kelly could hear.

      “Yeah. And if he told you he’s a Justice Department agent, he is,” Gabriel said. “I just confirmed it. His real name is Lawrence Boyer.”