Rebecca Zanetti - Forgotten Sins

Shane opened the door. “I have a feeling Malloy is after something. I don’t like that he didn’t tell you any details about his new developments.”

She was surrounded by manipulative people keeping hidden agendas, and that included Shane. Even if the amnesia was real, he wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the truth.

The waiting room of the police station held two leather couches, a myriad of live plants, and several wide orange chairs. Homey and comfortable. A slice of small town in a city that had grown unexpectedly. A forty-something woman with riotous red hair sat behind a broad counter walled off by thick glass, humming contentedly through the night shift. Behind her spread a wall of photos depicting police officers at various award ceremonies. She smiled and spoke through the speaker, her voice emerging tinny. “May I help you?”

Shane stepped forward to answer just as a buzzer rasped and a door opened next to the counter. Malloy held it open with one beefy hand. “Come on in.”

Josie pivoted to walk into a wide, quiet hallway. Shane’s broad hand settled at the small of her back, pressing her along. Possessive and protective—completely in charge. She’d forgotten that feeling of being his.

Several closed doors lined the hall as the three approached a large double door that blocked the hub of the police station from the public. Malloy pushed open a scratched metal door, gesturing them inside a conference room with a thick oak table and leather chairs. Josie slid into the chair Shane pulled out for her, glancing at the pleasant watercolor of a snowy mountain scene adorning the side wall. “Where’s the two-way mirror?” she asked.

Malloy snorted, walking around the table to sit and drop manila folders on the polished wood. “The interrogation rooms are closer to the cells. This is just a meeting room.”

Shane sat next to Josie. “Right. Exactly what are we meeting about, Detective?”

Josie leaned back in her chair and away from the comfort she’d find leaning into Shane.

Malloy rubbed his chin, studying them with shrewd and tired-looking eyes. He’d discarded the rumpled suit coat and old tie, rolling his shirt up to reveal dark hair along his arms. He focused on Shane. “Have any of your memories returned?”

“Not yet, but they will.” Shane ignored Josie’s move away and reached out to place one broad arm across her shoulders. “Have you heard from Pendleton?”

“Not yet, but I will,” the detective parroted Shane’s tone. He eyed Josie. “When you were married, did your husband ever talk about his skill set in the military?”

The arm around her shoulders stiffened, but Shane’s body remained relaxed and his expression unconcerned. Josie stilled. “No. Shane didn’t talk about his past, about his future, or about his job, Detective. I believe we’ve covered this.” Admitting her marriage was a sham settled like a rock in her stomach. She crossed her legs. “Why do you ask?”

Malloy glanced at Shane and flipped open a file, taking out three photographs to place on the table. “I ask because we found three dead bodies down by the river a couple hours ago.”

Josie sucked in air, her gaze glued to the pictures of dead men lying on metal slabs, their bodies covered by flimsy sheets. Just like on television. Shock set off a roaring in her ears. “Who are they?” she croaked out.

Malloy shrugged. “We don’t know yet. But a preliminary examination shows the first two died from broken necks.” His finger tapped on the third picture of a man with mottled bruises and cuts marring his face. “This guy probably died from an intense beating that crushed his skull—we’ll know more after the autopsies tomorrow.” The detective glanced at the damaged knuckles of Shane’s hand resting on the table.

“Any forensics?” Shane’s voice remained pleasant and unconcerned.

“Not yet. But I’m sure we’ll find something.” Malloy raised an eyebrow. “Do either of you recognize these men?”

Josie studied the pictures, a lump forming in her throat. Had Shane killed three men with his bare hands? Was he capable of such an act? Her skin pricked with awareness and a new sense of self-preservation. She didn’t know the man she’d married. “I don’t recognize them.”

Shane’s hand settled at her nape.

She jumped.

Malloy’s eyes narrowed.

Shane rubbed her neck in soothing circles that failed to soothe. “I don’t know them.”

“We found a baseball bat near one of them.” Malloy took out a picture of a metal slugger. “It was in the river, but we’ll find prints on the handle.”

Shane shrugged. “We both know you already printed the bat, and if you’d found any, you’d have said so.”

Josie stiffened. How did he know that?

Malloy surveyed her. “Are you sure you don’t recognize any of these men, Mrs. Dean?”

“Yes.” She kept her voice low to prevent it from quivering. “Why do you ask?”

Malloy reached into a second file for an evidence bag holding a battered piece of paper. “Because we found your picture in the pocket of a dead man.”

Josie reached out with trembling fingers to touch the wrinkled paper. The picture was from her firm’s website and had been printed on cheap computer paper. Her knees trembled and the air in her lungs chilled. “Why would someone have my picture?”

Shane shook his head. “So the mugging wasn’t random.”

“No.” Malloy tapped his pen on the table. “These men were looking for Mrs. Dean.”

“Why?” Josie turned toward Shane. “I don’t understand. Why would these guys be looking for me? And why hurt you?” Reality began spinning away from her along with her sense of safety. Fear tasted like acid in her throat. “How did you meet up with them?” So many questions, and the answers remained locked in Shane’s hard head.

His jaw tightened. He grabbed the paper, studying her smiling face. “I don’t know. But this picture is off the Internet, right?” At her nod, he exhaled. “We’ll discuss the safety in posting your face online later.” He tossed the paper back down. “They needed the picture to identify you. My assumption is they were looking for me, considering someone bashed my head in.” The chair creaked as he sat back. “Of course, we need to get you somewhere safe while we figure this out.”

Had those men been looking for her? What if they’d found her? No way could she have defended herself against all three of them. “The three guys with my picture are dead.” Probably by Shane’s hand.

He eyed the picture. “There could be more men after us.”

“After you.” Or maybe after her. What was she going to do? “Maybe I should take a vacation. By myself.”

He shifted his focus, his gaze wandering her face, a smile flirting with his lips. “You’re stuck with me for now, angel. Deal with that fact.” The smile did nothing to camouflage the determination setting his hard jaw.

Malloy cleared his throat. “I can put you somewhere safe, Mrs. Dean.” His chest puffed out.

Josie fought to keep from choking on the testosterone that thickened the air. “I need a minute to myself, gentlemen.” The word probably didn’t apply to either man sitting in the room. What should she do?

Hiding out didn’t seem like a smart option… especially without a timeline. She couldn’t just abandon work, especially since she needed to correct Billy’s files—and then make partner. The security from such a position would allow her finally to relax a little bit, and the only way she’d get the promotion would be to stay visible. At the firm, anyway. “Is there another alternative?”

Malloy sighed. “I can have a black-and-white check by your house during patrol. We don’t have the manpower to put someone on your house twenty-four hours a day, but I’ll do what I can.” He slid the paper into a file, tapping the entire stack into a neat pile and eyeing Shane. “I’m assuming you’ll be staying with her?”

“Yes.”

Josie blinked several times. Why would those men want her? What was Shane involved in? What if they came after her? Sure, she remembered some self-defense. Not enough, though. She’d purposefully decided to take yoga instead of karate to keep in shape. The exact opposite of what Shane would’ve told her to do.

Malloy stood. “I don’t have any other questions for you right now but would appreciate you keeping me informed of your location.”

“Of course.” Shane pushed back from the table and stood, assisting Josie to her feet. “Let me know if you identify the men in the morgue.”

“I will. Although you’ll probably remember them soon, I’d think.” The detective crossed around the table. “I’ll show you out.”

Well past midnight, darkness filtering in the window, Josie finished knitting a scarf and laid it on the bed to admire it, her mind ablaze with thoughts. Shades of copper speckled the scarf’s pattern, guaranteed to bring out the amber flecks in Tom’s eyes. She’d been working on the scarf for him for about a week. Maybe she should’ve called him back after dinner. Should she tell Tom about Shane staying with her? She and Tom were just friends, but something more had hinted between them lately, and she liked him.

A year or two younger than her, Tom was a good guy, a construction worker with big dreams. And he believed in her dreams. Of course, right now her biggest dream was getting back to her safe life.

Was she in danger now? Were the men after her, or did they have her picture because they sought Shane? She and Shane had left the police station and run to a clothing store to buy him jeans. He’d scowled the entire time and had been quiet, lost in his own thoughts. Not sharing them with her and not providing any answers—just like old times. Once home, they’d both headed to bed.