Witness on the Run. Hope White

that working out?”

      “Long hours, but it pays the bills.”

      “Your connection to the girl?” He nodded toward the examining area.

      “Don’t know her. ID says Robin Strand. Lives in Seattle, Greenlake, I think. I’m guessing she works in the Chambers Tower. She had a building pass.”

      Detective Monroe pulled out a small notebook. “What were you doing at the Chambers Building?”

      “Stakeout for a client.”

      Jake suspected that Ethan hadn’t told his men that he had enlisted Jake’s help. Ethan had called last week asking if Jake had time to keep an eye on the after-hours activity at the Chambers Building, keep track of who came and went and at what times. Ethan knew something was going on in that building after hours, he just didn’t know what.

      “What client?” Monroe asked.

      “Confidential.” Jake wasn’t giving that up until E gave him permission to do so. When he’d called Jake, he’d said he suspected some kind of police corruption and needed to keep Jake’s involvement on the q.t.

      Monroe narrowed his eyes at Jake. “Uh-huh. What time did you see her leave the building?”

      “At 9:07.”

      “Was she alone?”

      “Yes.”

      “And she was running?”

      “She was. I got out of the car and called out to her. That freaked her out even more, and she took off down Seneca. She didn’t get more than a block when the SUV nailed her.”

      “We’ve got officers at the scene questioning the driver.”

      “It wasn’t his fault.”

      “Perhaps, but there’s a good chance Ms. Strand witnessed the shooting of Detective Edwards and needed to be silenced.”

      “Was Edwards working a case?”

      “That’s confidential.”

      “Where did you find the body?” Jake asked.

      “I’m supposed to be asking the questions,” Monroe said.

      The E.R. doors swung open and Ethan marched out, worry lines creasing his forehead.

      “Well?” Detective Monroe asked.

      “She doesn’t remember anything.”

      “About the shooting?” Jake asked.

      Ethan pinned him with angry eyes. “Anything. As in, she can’t remember her name, where she’s from, what day it is.”

      “That’s convenient,” Detective Monroe said, snapping his notebook shut.

      Jake eyed the detective. “Convenient?”

      “Sure, if she’s involved.”

      Not in a million years, Jake thought. Fragile Robin Strand was no more a criminal than Jake was good father material.

      “Doctor is calling it traumatic amnesia due to the blow to her head,” Ethan explained. “It’s temporary.”

      “How temporary?” Monroe pushed.

      “They don’t know,” Ethan said. “We all want this guy, Monroe. We’re just going to have to be patient or find him another way.”

      “If the perp thinks she’s a witness and doesn’t know about this amnesia thing, then she’s still in danger,” Jake said.

      “Then she should remember quick so we can put the guy away,” Detective Monroe snapped.

      “It’s not like she’s choosing to forget,” Jake said.

      “No?” Monroe challenged.

      Ethan stepped between Jake and Detective Monroe. “Dunn, you stay and watch over Ms. Strand. Monroe and I will get with the crime scene investigator.”

      Detective Monroe didn’t move at first. He stared at the E.R. doors.

      It was devastating to lose a brother in blue and frustrating to know the eyewitness was unable to help.

      Or unwilling?

      “Thanks, buddy,” Ethan said, shaking Jake’s hand again. “You’ve done more than enough.”

      “Hey, E, I need to—”

      “Later, okay?” He started down the hall with Monroe, turned and said, “Go home, Jake. Get some sleep.”

      “Hey, I don’t take orders from you anymore,” Jake said in reference to their childhood roles. Ethan had played an army major and Jake a sergeant. Even then, they’d dreamed of serving their country.

      Ethan waved him off and disappeared outside.

      Jake glanced at Detective Dunn, who stood rigidly beside the E.R. doors pressing buttons on his cell phone. Dunn was tall, husky and angry-looking. Sure he was. A brother had just been killed, possibly a friend. Jake had lost his share of those in Iraq.

      “How long have you been a cop?” Jake asked.

      “Ten years,” Dunn said, not looking up.

      “Before that?”

      “Military.”

      “Yeah. Me, too. Which branch?”

      The E.R. doors burst open and a young nurse glanced at Jake, then Detective Dunn. “Who came in with Miss Strand?”

      “That would be me,” Jake said. “Jake Walters.”

      “She’s asking for you.”

      Detective Dunn raised a brow.

      Jake shrugged and followed the nurse. Dunn shadowed Jake—a bit too close, in Jake’s opinion.

      The nurse hesitated beside a curtain and turned to Jake. “We had a hard time calming her down and didn’t want to oversedate her because of the head injury, so please don’t upset her.”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      The nurse slid the curtain open. “Robin? This is Detective Dunn and Jake, the man who brought you in.”

      Robin slowly opened her eyes.

      “I’m Detective Dunn.” Dunn identified himself.

      “You wanted to see me?” Jake said.

      She looked at Jake and furrowed her eyebrows as if she struggled to focus. Then she frowned. “You. You were in the street. When I was… I was running.…” Her breathing quickened and she looked like she was going to hyperventilate.

      The nurse eyed the blood pressure monitor. “It’s okay, Robin.” She motioned to Jake. “Please leave.”

      He hesitated, not sure what had just happened or how to fix it. “Sure. Okay.” Then he shot Robin a comforting smile. “I’ll be right outside.”

      She looked away, the nurse hovered over her, and Jake walked out, running an anxious hand through his hair. What had just happened?

      He’d frightened her; that’s what.

      A burn started low and spread through his gut. Jake’s memories surged to the surface. Her terrified expression looked way too familiar.

      It reminded Jake of what he feared most. Becoming his old man.

      Robin might have drawn a blank on ninety-nine percent of her life, but for some reason Jake Walters had spiked panic in her chest.

      Being chased, threatened.

      She knew the man named Jake, wearing a leather jacket and a silver chain that peeked out from beneath a black, V-neck T-shirt, hadn’t threatened her. She’d