Page 59 of Hunted in Hope Town

“You’d leave me alone in here, and you think that would entice whoever might be out there, if anyone is out there, to come…try to get to me?”

“Maybe.” His gaze moved from Kirsten to Ellis. “It depends on what they’re after.”

Ellis frowned at that. It was clear what they were after. Punishing him for his role in the undercover sting that hadn’t done what it had set out to do, but had killed a few and put some of the Caruso family in jail.

Kirsten looked up at him. “I think it’s pretty clear. They’re after me to hurt you, or there was no point in that stupid warning letter. Except to scare the hell out of you.”

“Or…” Boyd tapped his fingers on the table, clearly thinking through something. “The thing is, the warning makes no sense. They certainly didn’t warn you, Ellis, when they found out your identity and went to your house.”

“No, but…”

“And you’ve been safe for two years, tucked away in this little town, with Kirsten having some memory issues. Why now?”

“These are some of the questions I kind of hoped you’d answer yourself. Far away from here,” Ellis muttered. He was uncomfortable and frustrated and Kirsten had stolen his seat.

“We’ve got potential leaks in Colleen and Tom, but again, why now? Tom set up your Alaska cover.”

“He doesn’t know I’m here. He thinks I’m in Alaska.” But that was weak at best, because it wasn’t like Ellis had done a lot of work to maintain an identity in Alaska.

“Maybe,” Boyd agreed. “It could explain the two years of relative safety.”

Ellis didn’t like the way Boyd let that sit there. Maybe. What were the other options?

“But the connection to Kirsten’s psychiatrist has me wondering if there’s something…more complicated in play. Particularly since you’ve never caught wind of a threat to you or Kirsten in those two years.”

Ellis tried to work through it, but whatever Boyd was considering, Ellis couldn’t get there. “What bigger complication could there be?”

Boyd cocked his head, studied Kirsten. “You’ve been thinking about you as the target, Ellis, and I get it. But what if it was Kirsten, all along?”

“Me, but…how?”

“I don’t know,” Boyd said equitably enough that it set Ellis’s teeth on edge. “What do you know, Kirsten?”

KIRSTEN FROZE. IT WAS such a direct question, one she didn’t even know how to answer, but something internally…seemed to shutter away from her reach. Like a thought, or more likely a memory, had been just within her reach and was now gone.

A familiar feeling, all in all, but one she hadn’t had in days. She turned away from Boyd’s dark, steady gaze. It was making her feel…all those old crawling feelings she thought she’d left behind when she’d remembered.

But Boyd kept talking.

“Whoever left that letter wanted her scared. They wanted her running to you, for help. They wanted to force your hand to tell her who she was, or why bother addressing that note to Mrs. Sutton? Why connect with her psychiatrist?”

“Because of me,” Ellis insisted, but Kirsten saw that Boyd was planting seeds of doubt. Ellis might refute them now, but eventually he’d water them and let them grow. Eventually, he’d come around to whatever Boyd was saying, even if it didn’t make any sense.

Boyd shrugged, and Kirsten didn’t like how careless it was. How detached.

“Maybe,” Boyd said. “Unless there’s something Kirsten saw or heard that they want.”

Kirsten shook her head. “I remember now, and I don’t remember anything about… How could I know anything about them? They broke into my house while I was asleep. They threw me over a balcony.”

She didn’t realize she was getting upset until she felt Ellis’s hand on her back, slowly rubbing up and down her spine to calm her. She took a deep breath, leaned into him a little. “This is upsetting. I don’t know anything.”

“Okay,” Boyd said. And he didn’t push it, but Kirsten knew…it wasn’t okay. He had a theory. About her. And he’d keep digging until he proved it right or wrong.

But Ellis changed the subject. They discussed some of the places Boyd had traced the remaining Carusos to. It was purposeful. To leave her out of it. They’d probably reconvene after she went to bed and talk about it behind her back.

She wanted them to. She knew she shouldn’t, but she hated this feeling. That it was back. That nagging, headachy strangeness in knowing something was hiding right here inside of her.

She excused herself into her room, but she didn’t get into bed. She paced, trying to will her brain to remember, while she heard the low tone of men’s voices.