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  As the news anchor segued to a story about a string of gas-station robberies throughout western Mass, he lowered the volume, but kept an eye on the screen in case they came back with more information.

  She couldn’t remember anything? That was an unexpected stroke of luck. In that case he just had to get to her and kill her, then everything would be okay.

  The report hadn’t given him much to go on, but he could work with what it had. Oakhurst County detectives were asking for information, which gave him a general sense of where she was. He’d find some untraceable way to call them—not hard to get a burner phone. They’d get a deluge of calls from cranks, and his call would meld in with the masses. He’d find out who was on the case and follow them until they led him to her.

  But he had to move quickly, before she remembered.

  Chapter Thirteen

  For the next three days, Jo and Arnett became a task force of two, fielding a barrage of calls claiming to have information about Zoë, and checking on her when they were able. Most of the calls were easily eliminated as irrelevant or cranks, and by Saturday they’d narrowed it all down to several dozen they needed to follow up. Several of those turned out to be deeply disturbing, like the twenty-five-year-old man who showed up at the station claiming Zoë was his wife, with no pictures or other proof. After a very short investigation, they’d discovered he was married—to another woman who was at home cooking his dinner.

  Arnett slid back into his desk chair when they returned, shaking his head. “What the hell did he think was going to happen? That we’d trot her right on out and hand her to him, no questions asked?”

  “Preferably in handcuffs, so he’d be able to quickly tie her up in his basement,” Jo added.

  Arnett ran his hand up and down his face. “Nearly thirty years on the force, and people still manage to surprise me.”

  Jo waved her hand in a circle toward him. “That’s because no matter how much you try to disguise it, you, my friend, are an eternal optimist. You believe in the fundamental goodness of people.”

  “Lies and slander.” A grin tugged at his lips. “Anyway, back to it. I have to leave in about an hour, I promised Laura I’d be home in time for us to eat dinner together.”

  Jo glanced at the time on her computer. “I’ve got to head out, too, so that works out well. I can manage by myself tomorrow if you’d like—” Jo’s phone rang, and her brow creased. “It’s Sunset Gardens.”

  Arnett looked up from a stack of messages as Jo connected the call and put it on speakerphone. “Fournier.”

  “Hello. This is Dolores Chambray, I’m a nurse at Sunset Gardens care facility. I’m sorry to disturb you, but a man just showed up claiming to be Zoë’s husband, and she’s extremely upset. She asked me to call you.”

  Jo came up out of her chair, and grabbed her blazer. “Is he still there?”

  “No, he disappeared when I went to get Zoë.”

  Jo shot an annoyed look at Arnett, who was shrugging into his coat. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Jo pushed through the front doors of Sunset Gardens. A guilty- looking woman rose from behind the counter. “Dolores Chambray?”

  “Yes. Thanks for getting here so quickly, I wasn’t sure what to do.”

  Jo crossed quickly to the counter. “Where’s Zoë now?”

  “She’s in her room. Julie’s calming her down.”

  “Walk us through what happened.”

  Dolores’ worried expression intensified, and she threw a nervous look at the security guard sitting next to her. “Okay, well, I was catching up on paperwork while Jerry was on his break, and a man came in. He said he thought his wife was here, the woman who’d lost her memory, and asked to see her.”

  “Then what?” Arnett asked.

  “I went to get her, and when I got back, he was gone.”

  “Just like that you went to get her, because he said she was his wife?”

  Dolores flushed. “He was convincing. He said he saw her picture on the news, and that it was his wife. I know you’ve been trying to get her to remember, and I figured her memory would come back if she saw him. If not, no harm done.”

  “No harm done unless he pulls out a gun. We had a long discussion with Director Rosen about safety protocols. Did she not pass that down to you?”

  Dolores’ color deepened still further. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

  Jo took over. “What did this man look like?”

  Dolores looked relieved to be on firmer ground. “Tall, about six feet I’d guess. Dark hair. I couldn’t see his eyes, he had sunglasses on.”

  “Did he give his name?” Arnett asked.

  “He said it was Oscar Snow.”

  “But you didn’t check ID?” he asked.

  “No.” She looked like she was about to cry. “And when I told Zoë, she refused to come out, and asked me to call you, and to get his address and telephone number.”

  At least someone had common sense. “And when you got back, he was gone?”

  “Yes. I ran to the door, to see if he was just outside for some reason, but he wasn’t. So then I came back in and alerted Jerry”—she motioned to the guard—“then checked the other wing. I’d have noticed him in the hall if he’d come down Zoë’s wing.”

  “Unless he hid in one of the rooms when he heard you coming back out,” Arnett said.

  Dolores’ face turned sickly white. “Jerry checked every room after that.”

  “I did. Everything was clear.” Jerry nodded.

  “You have a security camera on the gate. We’ll need to see the footage,” Jo said.

  Jerry stood up. “I’ll pull it for you.”

  “Thanks. In the meantime, we need to talk to Zoë.” Jo rounded the corner before Dolores could respond, and strode down to Zoë’s room, Arnett at her side. When they reached the door, they knocked gently, then opened it.

  Zoë sat in the oversized chair, wrapped in her throw blanket, with Julie encouraging her to drink what appeared to be herbal tea. As soon as she saw them, she set the cup down, and started to rise.

  “No, please stay where you are.” As Jo crossed the room, Julie stood up and offered her chair. “Thank you. Dolores told us what happened. Are you okay?”

  Zoë nodded her head and looked down into her mug. “I’m fine, just shaken up. They want me to take a sedative, but I don’t like how they make me feel. Have they searched the building?”

  “They have, every room. Whoever the guy was, he’s gone. We’re pulling up the security footage, and we’ll find him. But we need to ask you. The man said his name was Oscar Snow. Does that sound familiar at all to you?”

  Zoë met Jo’s eyes. “No. But that doesn’t really mean much.”

  “No, right. We’ll check into it, but it’s almost certainly a fake name. And I’m sure the man was just some random person. We always get a few of those when we have a situation like this.”

  Zoë nodded, and looked back into the mug.

  Jo threw a look back at Arnett, who looked just as confused as she felt. “I know you’re shaken up, and I would be, too. But the good news is, the security worked. He didn’t get into the building, and he didn’t get anywhere near you. And, now we’ll be able to convince our lieutenant to get that guard for you. We’ll talk to him about it first thing in the morning, okay?”

  Zoë’s eyes shot up to Jo. She started to say something, but stopped. “Okay,” she finally said.

  Jo searched her face. “Or, I can talk to Doctor Soltero about moving you to another facility if that would make you feel safer?”

  Zoë turned to stare out her window, and shook her head. “No. You’re right. Everything worked the way it was supposed to. Dolores stopped him at the counter, and he’s gone now.”

  Jo reached out to squeeze her hand. “You’re going to be fine. And don’t take that sedative if you don’t feel like it—but it might help you sleep.”

  Zoë looked back at her, and smiled. “Thank y
ou, Detective. I appreciate all your help.”

  Jo smiled back. “That’s what we’re here for. If you have any concerns, or anything else happens, call us right away. That card I gave you the first time we met has my direct cell number written on the back.”

  Jo watched Zoë over her shoulder as she and Arnett left.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Back at the front counter, Jerry had a memory card waiting with the relevant security footage. Jo stuck it into the front desk computer terminal, started the file playing, and realized almost immediately the footage was useless. Shot from an almost ninety-degree angle, there was no chance of seeing the car’s driver, or the license plate number. And, it was in black and white—all they could tell was the car was a dark Toyota, most likely a Corolla. When they’d expressed their frustration, Jerry sheepishly replied that they’d never had to worry about people getting in who shouldn’t be there—they’d only ever used the footage to alert them when a resident with dementia was wandering where they shouldn’t.

  By the time they left, Jo had to hurry to make her date with Matt. The process of getting ready brought to mind Eric’s text—she still hadn’t responded to it. She promised herself she’d do it the following day, and that she’d make it an actual phone call.

  More excited about seeing Matt than she’d expected to be, she slipped on a red sheath dress that never failed to get a reaction from men—only to discover it fit just a titch more snugly across her middle than was flattering. She berated herself for one too many meatball subs as she changed into a more forgiving black-jersey A-line dress. She took her time applying a dark red lip to set off her green eyes and dark brows, and then, satisfied with the result, headed out.

  She found Matt waiting for her in the bar of Chez Lumiere. He rose at the sight of her, as handsome as she remembered. His black suit was well made but didn’t scream designer, and the cream shirt underneath warmed the olive undertones in his skin. He broke into a smile and held her gaze as he kissed her hand, then turned to tell the hostess they were ready to be seated. As they walked through the champagne-rose tables and armchairs, his fingertips rested ever-so-slightly at the small of her back, and he pulled out her chair before she sat.

  “Quite a gentleman. You don’t see that very much anymore.”

  “My mother taught me the secret to winning a woman’s heart is to treat her like the treasure she is.” He sat, and picked up his menu. “I think I’m in the mood for a steak tonight. They have magnificent filet mignon here. What looks good to you?”

  The waiter appeared, and they gave him their orders. Once he filled their water glasses and left, Matt turned to her again. “Have you found out anything else about Zoë?”

  “Yes and no,” she said, and filled him in on the blood results, and their attempts to trigger her memory. “So far, no luck.”

  He nodded. “Clever approach.”

  “And, we had some drama tonight.” She told him about the intruder. “Normally I’d say he’s just a weirdo, but what’s really bothering me is how he knew where to find her. There’s no public record you have to keep of where you placed her, is there?”

  His brow creased. “No, all information like that is kept strictly confidential. And I trust my staff implicitly.”

  Jo nodded. “That’s what we assumed, but I told Bob I’d check. So that means someone went to some extreme length to figure out her location, which suggests something more nefarious.”

  “As in, the person who attacked her and her daughter is coming after her again?”

  “That’s my worry. But Sunset Gardens is on high alert now. Nobody’s going to get through that gate, let alone past the front counter. Still, I wonder if it would be worth moving her to a different facility?”

  “I can check into it. If it’s safer for her, I’ll find a way to work it out.”

  Jo reached over and put her hand on his. “Thank you. I realize that makes things harder for your schedule.”

  He waved her off. “Completely irrelevant.”

  She knew that wasn’t true, and found him all the more appealing for claiming it was.

  The waiter appeared and set their food in front of them, then asked if they needed anything more. They said they didn’t.

  “That’s taken care of, then. So, tell me more about yourself,” Jo said.

  For the rest of the meal, they chatted easily about their careers, their childhoods, and their families. He was the oldest of four, with two sisters and a brother. He was one of the very few doctors on the planet with parents who disapproved of his career choice, because his father owned a chain of furniture stores he’d hoped Matt would take over. Luckily, his younger brother Raul had been happy to step up to the plate. But while his siblings had several children between them, his mother was still devastated he hadn’t married and produced offspring of his own.

  Jo laughed. “Never met the right girl?”

  “Something like that.” He glanced away across the room, then met her eyes again. “Same for you?”

  “Something like that.” She raised her glass. “Here’s to having families that care about our happiness, even if they vocalize it a little too much.”

  He laughed, touched his glass to hers, then changed the subject.

  Throughout the evening, Jo sipped her wine and watched him. The way he spoke, the expressions on his face, even his movements were infused with a natural assurance that drew her. She could easily lose herself in those arms, let his body carry her mind far away, leaving work and family behind. And the way everything seemed to take so much out of her lately, that would be a very welcome getaway.

  As they left the restaurant, meal finished, Matt again guided her with a hand gently rested on the small of her back. The gesture, combined with the wine, sent a rush of warmth through her. They handed their stubs to the valet, and he turned to her.

  “Coffee at my place?” The tilt of his brow and the corner of his mouth were a gentle tease.

  “That sounds perfect. I’ll follow you.”

  The instant his front door closed behind her, he gathered her in his arms and kissed her. Soft and lingering at first, but when she buried her hands in his hair and tugged, the kiss became hungry, and passionate. She savored the taste and feel of him for a long moment, then, heart racing and heat flashing through her, she gently bit his lower lip. He answered by pulling his hips into hers, and when she moaned, he pulled away to lead her to his bedroom.

  For once, Jo completely forgot about the coffee.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Jo woke Sunday morning in Matt’s bed, the familiar rush of disoriented dread hit her. Waking in someone else’s bed, especially the first time, was always a shock to her system. And, despite the cozy eiderdown blanket and the soothing blue of the walls, the emotion was oddly magnified this time, hitting with a side of nausea.

  She grabbed her phone from the purse she’d cast aside the night before, and checked the time. Seven-thirty a.m. She’d never be able to sneak out this late without waking him.

  She sat up slowly and when he didn’t stir, slipped out of bed. She gathered her clothes and tiptoed into the bathroom, her bladder far too full to wait until she got home. When she emerged, fully dressed, he was awake.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “Work.” She slid back over to him and covered her lie with a kiss. “I promised my partner I’d be there at six.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her, but his half-smile remained. “Far be it from me to interfere with the safety of Oakhurst County. But while I normally love being used for my body, I have to admit I’d like to see you again.”

  Jo ran her hand down his chest, and kissed him again. “I’d like that, too. I’ll call you.”

  She slipped out the door and into her car, confused when the disorientation didn’t dissipate as his house disappeared in the rearview mirror. In fact, it magnified, and—

  She yanked the wheel as she rounded the corner, threw open her door, and vomited into the gutter.

/>   She pulled several napkins from her center console and cleaned her face, then poured the half cup of leftover coffee waiting in her cup holder over the vomit, washing away as much as possible.

  Something wasn’t right. What sort of stomach flu came and went like this? She had sushi the week before, had she picked up some sort of parasite? Or—her father flashed through her mind—could it be some sort of cancer?

  She fought down the irrational panic that gripped her chest and redirected to the nearest CVS. Nothing here would solve the underlying problem, but it would get her through the weekend until she could see a doctor. She located the anti-nausea medication, and, dazed by the selection of options, picked one at random and read the back.

  A line from the warnings jumped out at her: Do not use while pregnant.

  Pregnant.

  The world retreated into a tunnel around her as she stared at the word. That explained everything: the moodiness, the fatigue, the tight clothes, the nausea. But it couldn’t be. She used birth control religiously. And she hadn’t had sex since Valentine’s Day.

  Oh, shit. She hadn’t had her period since two weeks before Valentine’s Day, either.

  She set the anti-nausea medication back on the shelf, hand shaking so hard she nearly knocked it over. She scoured the signs hanging over the aisles and located the one she needed.

  An hour later she sat on her bathroom floor, gaping at the second stick to show the same results.

  She was pregnant.

  When her phone rang, she barely registered the number from Sunset Gardens. She answered, eyes still on the pregnancy test, as Director Rosen’s frantic voice broke over the line.

  Zoë was gone.

  Chapter Sixteen