Undercover Memories Read Free

And I should bandage a couple of these cuts—”
    He waved her off with a limp flick of his fingers. “I’m too tired to worry about anything right now. You’re sure about the bed?”
    “Positive.” He saw the way her gaze flicked toward the front door. There was no way to keep her from leaving as soon as he closed his eyes. Nor was there any way to make sure she didn’t use the big knife she’d hidden in the desk drawer unless he tied her up, and he wasn’t going to do that. Frankly, at that moment, he didn’t particularly care what she did. He had to sleep.
    He got to his feet and looked into her gray eyes. “Good night, Paige Graham.”
    She almost smiled. “Good night, John Doe.”
    * * *
    T HE LIGHTS WENT ON AT 6:45 a.m. Paige knew this because she’d spent the night sitting on the sofa with the cleaver, just in case. At the moment when the lamp blazed, she was staring at the clock, trying to figure out what to do.
    Getting power back made that decision easy. The first order of business was to see if there was anything on the news about an escaped convict or a serial killer. She got up quickly and crossed the room to the small television set that sat inside a hutch. She turned it on and adjusted the old-fashioned rabbit ears until the only channel she’d been able to pick up was clear enough to watch.
    She heard the shower start running, but she kept the volume low anyway. More rain was predicted for today. A woman in New York had won the lottery. Firemen had saved a puppy that fell through the grating into a culvert. Interest rates were up. Unemployment was down. She was about to give up and go start a pot of coffee when the picture on the screen changed to one of a forest. A reporter stood next to what appeared to be an abandoned campsite.
    As Paige listened to the sketchy details, her fingernails bit into her palms. At a nearby park that was still closed for the season, an unidentified man had been savagely attacked. He’d been airlifted to Green Acre and was listed in critical condition and in a coma. Another man was wanted in connection with the attack. His name was John Cinca and he was a bodyguard working out of Lone Tree, Wyoming. Police were combing the area looking for him. A car rented under his name was found abandoned in the park. Another car was there, as well, abandoned, this one stolen. There were no witnesses and the reason for the attack was unclear.
    They flashed a picture of John Cinca on the screen.
    John Doe.
    Paige found herself standing. She had to get out of here! She ran to the door and looked through the window.
    During the night, the rain had turned to snow and left a few inches on the ground. She would leave a visible trail if she attempted to walk away. Her car was right there . She had to get her keys.
    But John was in the bathroom, and so were her jeans with the keys in the pocket. The bedroom door was ajar and opened the rest of the way noiselessly. She all but floated across the floor to the bathroom. That door opened silently, as well. She could discern the outline of John’s body through the shower curtain. Yikes, he was muscular! She grabbed her jeans, closed the door and retraced her steps across the bedroom.
    Once in the living room, she pulled the keys from the pocket and snagged her coat and handbag off the back of a chair. She glanced back at the bedroom door—the coast was still clear although the shower had gone off. Man, why hadn’t she grabbed her shoes? No matter, just get out while the getting is good.
    She opened the door and tiptoed onto the deck, avoiding the plank she’d noticed squeaked the day before. Looking back as often as she looked forward, she made it to the car but chose to unlock it with the key rather than risk the noise it made with the keyless entry button. The door opened quietly and she slipped inside. She left the door unlatched but the car started beeping when she inserted the key, so she closed it, wincing at the thud it made.
    Taking