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Please, Lord Jesus, help me! Please heal my mind!
Unfortunately, her memories did not come rushing back. Not that she’d anticipated they would. That wasn’t how prayer worked. She stared numbly out the window as scenery passed by.
Doc took the ramp onto the main highway leading back toward Lexington. There was plenty of traffic now, going both ways. As she looked at the vehicles in front and behind them, despair hit hard.
They’d never be able to see the gunmen if they happened to catch up in time to avoid them.
“We’re going to be fine.” Doc reached over to take her hand. “Using Rex’s car for a while should help.”
She wanted to believe that. “Any idea how they found us?”
His jaw flexed. “They must have figured out I’m connected with Grayson’s Guardians. The rental car and property were booked using my Grayson’s Guardian’s credit card.”
She couldn’t imagine it was an easy thing to track credit cards. And she knew that pointed to someone with resources to buy someone who excelled at hacking into technology. Maybe even connections to law enforcement. She frowned. “Okay, but if that’s true, then they’ll be able to find Rex’s vehicle too.”
“Not as easily if we aren’t using our credit card for gas, food, or a rental property.” He gently squeezed her hand. “Thankfully, the state of Kentucky doesn’t have toll roads. We’ll find a remote off-the-grid place to park for a few hours, then head to the riverfront to see if your memory returns.”
“Okay.” It was the only reasonable option. “Too bad we don’t know where I live.”
Doc shot her a quick glance. “I was going to ask Rex to look up the address on your driver’s license, but there’s really no point. Even if we knew where you lived, and it was somewhere other than your father’s farm, we can’t risk going there.”
“Yeah. I guess.” He was probably right. Anyone looking for her would stake out her residence. A flash of being in a small kitchen with white cabinets against green walls and a small center island popped into her mind. Her kitchen? It didn’t look big enough to belong to her father’s larger house on the farm.
Maybe she lived in a smaller house or cottage on the farm. Close enough to be near the horses but far enough to have some level of independence from her father.
That her memories were so brief bothered her. Mucking out a stall, an argument with her father, a slap across Tristan’s face. Why couldn’t her memories just return in full force? Why were they piecemeal like oddly shaped parts of a puzzle with glaring gaps in between?
She curled her fingers into fists in frustration. She needed the whole picture. To know everything that had transpired over the past few days.
Maybe even the past few weeks. She wasn’t sure she’d been at the stable connected to the racetrack to witness Calvin Jacobson’s murder, but maybe she’d overheard someone planning to take Savior’s Journey out of the picture.
Doc abruptly left the highway at the next exit. She tensed and twisted in her seat to see what had caught his attention. “Are they behind us?’
“Not that I can tell only able to see headlights.” He offered a reassuring smile. “I’m taking reasonable precautions.”
“I see.” She swallowed hard and willed her heart rate to return to normal. “Next time, warn me.”
“Sorry about that.” He looked chagrined. “We’ll be at the restaurant soon.”
“Great.” She was tempted to mention the kitchen memory but decided it wasn’t helpful. Most of her memories had not given them much information.
Her gut clenched with fear. What if her mind never healed? What if she was destined to live the rest of her life with zillions of holes in her memory?
Keeping a wary eye out for trouble as he drove, Doc wished he had a better plan for how to get to the bottom of this mess. In some ways, Fiona had a point about going to the police. They were fast running out of options. Yet based on some of his past experiences, he didn’t trust the police with the task of protecting Fiona from harm.
Sure, the detective would launch an investigation, no doubt attempting to link these shootings targeting Fiona to the murder of Calvin Jacobson, but that would take time.
Time they didn’t have. Not when the bad guys kept showing up to finish them off.
As it was, sitting for what was left of the night in a car wasn’t exactly taking action to eliminate the threat. There had to be something more that they could do.
Too bad, he couldn’t come up with anything other than possibly setting a trap. Using Fiona as bait wasn’t an option, but between them, he and Rex may be able to lure the gunmen out of hiding.
The main problem with that scenario was that if the gunmen were simply hired hands, they’d need to figure out a way to keep them alive long enough to uncover the truth. And that wouldn’t be easy once bullets started flying.
He felt certain Fiona’s father, or someone else with money, had sent the gunmen after Fiona. Guys like her father didn’t get their own hands dirty.
The idea of possibly setting a trap rolled through his mind as he headed toward the restaurant. Would Rex go along with the wild idea? Maybe.
