Shadows of Her Mind

By K. M. Winthrop

She awakened by the side of the road, frightened and alone, her mind a blank.
Embarking on a search for her identity she was distressed to discover she had a sinister past.
The only man who knew her believed she was involved in a murder.
The only man she trusted had a contract to kill her.
The only man who could save her filled her with terror.
And the only clue to her identity was a horrifying nightmare that dominated her mind when she was asleep and her consciousness when she was awake.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781664121225

Book preview

CHAPTER I

Nick Markous presented an imposing figure as he hastened down the hallway while a knot of apprehension drew tighter with every step he took. His face showed none of the anxiety he felt, the result of long years of training. It served him well in police work.

It also came in handy in a poker game.

He excelled at both.

He couldn’t explain it but his instincts told him something was wrong and he always paid attention to his instincts. They were right too often for him to ignore them. No doubt they were on the mark tonight as well. Why else would the call him out of the Captain’s meeting. He’d left Steve in charge and Steve could usually handle just about anything that came up. What’s more, they never called him for good news.

It took every ounce of self-control for him to keep his pace down to a brisk walk when those same instincts told him to move at a dead run.

He was tall, slightly over six feet, broad shouldered but slender across the hips and athletically built. His classic Grecian features were strong and well-formed, a broad forehead over arched brows, high cheekbones, and a determined jaw. His deep set eyes were black and heavily lashed. In a less rugged face, they might have been described as pretty. His eyes contrasted nicely with a lightly tanned complexion that should have been swarthy but was not. His jet black hair was a bit too wavy for his taste and he wore it a bit longer than average, making him appear younger than his thirty five years. His expression would be described as stern but for his magnetic smile and the warm Mediterranean personality it mirrored. Dressed in a gray suit and tie with a rose and gray pin-striped shirt, he looked more like a corporate executive than a cop. It was an image he made no effort to dispel.

What’s up? he inquired briskly as he entered the sparsely furnished squad room.

He glanced at the clipboard where the complaints received during each watch were logged noting, for a change, it was unusually empty. Especially for a Saturday night.

Steve Walton hung up the phone abruptly when he saw him.

Glad you’re here, Boss, he began with obvious reluctance. There was a shooting at the Wellman place tonight but the—

A shooting!

The knot in his stomach twisted and snapped. The worst of his fears were realized.

Damn it, Steve!

"Relax. I was about to tell you the victim was a man and yes, I’m sure. Jerry Quinn was in the car that got the squeal. According to him, the victim was dead on arrival. They don’t have a positive ID on him but from the description I’d be willing to bet it’s good old Charlie Wellman himself.

Jerry said neighbors heard a man who sounded like Wellman in a heated argument with a woman. A few minutes into the argument they heard something they thought was a car backfiring. I’d guess that was about eight o’clock. Then it got really quiet until they heard a second bang about twenty minutes later. They got concerned and called in a complaint to the desk. It was received at eight twenty-four and the call went out ‘possible shots fired.’

Eight o’clock, Nick mused thoughtfully.

He glanced down at his watch. It was nine thirty-five. He sighed and sat on the chair beside Steve’s desk.

Did you think to ask Quinn if they had a description on the woman?

Yeah, but he doesn’t know. Two men from homicide showed up and took over. He knows about our interest in the house so he called me. You don’t think Wellman was arguing with Tracy, do you? She should have been clear long before that.

Damn I hope so! She was supposed to deliver the package around seven thirty. With any luck she was out of there before it happened. More likely, somebody was after the package and, quite understandably, Wellman gave him, or her, an argument. Have you heard anything from Dan or Bobby?

Not a squeak.

Steve was fidgeting with some papers on the desk and refused to meet his eye.

After I talked to Jerry, I tried calling them. Bob’s cell went straight to voice mail and Dan didn’t answer. I asked communications to contact them and tell either Dan or Bob to call in ASAP. No response. They’re either out of range or away from their cars. I also called Lieutenant Whalley’s office and told them we were interested in Wellman. They promised to keep us posted.

I’ll believe that when I see it, Nick remarked sourly. Maybe we’d better ride over to Wellman’s and look around while Doug Whalley is tied up at the Captain’s meeting. Call downstairs and round up somebody to babysit with the phone.

I already did. I figured you’d want to do some snooping around on your own. Frank Newly is on his way up.

Steve stood up and slipped into his sport jacket.

He was small and slightly built, barely able to meet the height and weight requirements in effect when he joined the department. That worried Nick until he discovered that, like many slight men, Steve was wiry and as agile as a cat. As fair as Nick was dark, his blue-gray eyes were innocent-looking and he wore a pair of heavy wire-rimmed glasses. He more closely resembled a bookish high school senior than the thirty-one year old father of five.

Uh, no sense calling Tracy, Boss, he offered when Nick picked up the phone. I called both her house and her cell as soon as I heard about the shooting. I’ve been trying every few minutes ever since. She’s not home and her cell’s going to voice mail.

Nick frowned and glanced at his watch again.

And she hasn’t called in?

He read the answer on Steve’s face before the man could speak.

Damn!

The art show opened tonight. You know how she’s been looking forward to it. She probably took off for Sarasota right after she left Wellman’s.

No, she would have called first. She knows how we all sweat it out when she makes one of these damn deliveries.

He separated the ignition key from the others on his key ring and handed it to Steve.

I’m parked halfway down the block. Bring my car up to the door and wait for me. And don’t be all night about it, he added gruffly as Steve disappeared into the hall.

Nick checked the time again as he reached for the phone. It rang as though on cue the instant his fingers touched it.

That must be Tracy, he thought optimistically. And it’s about damn time.

But his relief was short lived. He noted the interoffice line flashing rather than the private line Tracy called in on. He lifted the receiver and punched in on the line.

Narcotics, Lieutenant Markous.

Lieutenant, this is Bishop in Communications. We finally managed to contact Dan Jensen. He’s on his way in and he said he has to see you. He said to tell you it’s important.

The uneasy feeling crept through him again. Dan was the easy going type, unruffled and good-natured, often to the point of irritation. Dan rarely ran into a situation he considered urgent enough to be termed important. When he did, it usually meant trouble.

Tell him I’ll wait for him in my office. Then call Steve Walton in my car and tell him to take off without me. I’ll catch up with him later.

He hung up and walked into his office, slamming the door behind him. He tossed is suit coat onto the file cabinet, its usual resting place.

His office was smaller than the squad room, furnished by a large, cluttered desk, a pair of visitor chairs, his computer and a pair of file cabinets, and a battered but comfortable chair. Recent pictures of Chris and Alexi smiled at him from the double frame on the desk.

The chair creaked as Nick sat down, and he propped his feet on a waste basket he kept under the desk for that purpose. Automatically, he reached for a cigarette, forgetting for a moment he was finally able to quit smoking only a week before. Instead he picked up a pencil and, trying to ignore the urge to smoke, he toyed with it restlessly.

Actually, he assured himself, there was no reason to be as concerned as he was. After Tracy picked up the package at the docks, she only had to cross the bridge back to Demens Point and deliver it to Charlie Wellman. Nothing could be simpler. Plus Dan and Bobby would be close by in case she ran into trouble. For more than a year she made several similar deliveries without a hitch.

But this time there was a hitch. This time someone, possibly Charlie Wellman, was killed, probably for the contents of the package. A large amount of pure, uncut cocaine!

And Tracy hadn’t called in yet!

Nick opened his drawer and pulled out the pack of cigarettes he kept for emergencies. This, he decided, was an emergency. He lit one and inhaled deeply before he picked up the phone and rang Tracy’s cell. It went to voice mail. He swore under his breath as he slammed the receiver onto the cradle.

Making an obscene phone call? a gruff voice inquired from the doorway.

Startled, he looked up as Dan Jensen ambled into the office. Nick glared at him, censoring the first phrase that sprang to his lips.

You’re not funny, Dan. It’s about damn time you showed up. Where have you been all night and what the hell happened at Wellman’s?

Wellman’s? Dan repeated.

A puzzled expression crossed his face. He moved to sit on the corner of the desk. When he caught the expression on Nick’s face and pulled up a chair instead.

Nothing happened at Wellman’s, Boss, but—

Nothing happened at Wellman’s? I doubt you’ll find many people to share your opinion on that subject. There was a shooting there tonight.

Damn!

Damn indeed. My sentiments exactly. The victim’s description matches that of one Charles Wellman, Nick responded with an exaggerated patience born in sarcasm. I can’t help but wonder how something like this could happen when one of my detectives was sitting outside watching the house. Do you have any theories?

Dan moved uncomfortably in his chair and shook his head.

He was all right when Tracy left the house. He walked her to the door.

Nick’s tension abated slightly and he sighed audibly.

Well, at least you did something right. At least she got clear before they nailed him. By the way, where is she? We’ve been calling her all night and we haven’t been able to contact her.

I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m not exactly sure where she is, Boss.

His voice dropped to a barely audible level and he mumbled. I-uh-lost her.

"You—what!"

Nick surged to his feet, unwilling to believe what he heard.

You lost her, Dan? How on God’s green earth did you manage to lose her? Come to think of it, why the hell were you following her in the first place? Bob was supposed to be following Tracy. You were supposed to watch the package.

I know.

Dan met Nick’s eye with the familiarity of a long friendship.

He was in his early forties, the age where a man’s waistline expands at the same rate his hairline recedes. His dusky brown hair had the beginnings of gray around the temples and his brown fawn-like eyes peered out from behind newly acquired glasses.

"Damn, I’m sorry, Boss. I don’t know what the hell happened. The whole delivery was one big fiasco. Bob was waiting for her at the bridge and I was staked out in the alley behind Wellman’s house. We were keeping in touch on our cells in case they were monitoring the police frequencies, yakking back and forth to kill time. Around seven ten, Bobby started wondering what happened to Tracy. She hadn’t passed him and she was late. He was still watching for her fifteen minutes later when she drove up and parked her car in Wellman’s driveway. She went inside but she didn’t take the package with her.

"She was with Wellman for about ten minutes. When she came out they were talking and there was no sign of trouble I could see. She must have known Bob wasn’t behind her because she signaled me to follow her instead of watching the house. I figured they changed the drop and she still had the package with her so I took off behind her. After a block or so she gunned the engine and, I swear, Boss, she tried to give me the slip. That car of hers can really move and you know how Tracy drives. It wasn’t easy but I managed to keep up.

"I called Bobby and told him to cut across town and fall in behind me while I tried to figure out what the hell was going on. I couldn’t understand why Tracy would try to lose me after she signaled me to follow her.

We kept up with her as far as Clearwater, and you know how some of those roads are up there, round and round? Well, she was right in front of me one minute. The next minute I turned a corner and she was gone. All Bob and I could do was drive in circles trying to pick her up again. Fifteen minutes later we found her car abandoned behind some deserted buildings that are scheduled to be torn down for a new shopping mall. There was no sign of an accident, but there were fresh footprints from two men and tire marks from another car.

Nick dropped back into his chair. Ignoring the cigarette that was still burning in the ashtray, he picked up his pencil again.

What about Tracy? he asked quietly, not sure if he really wanted to hear the answer.

I’m sorry, I just don’t know. There was no sign of her anywhere. I left Bob out there to see what he could find and I came in after you.

Nick was silent, not trusting himself to speak.

Uh, one more thing.

Reluctantly, Dan reached into his pocket and took out a small purse.

I found this beside the car.

Nick opened the bag and spilled the contents onto the desk. It contained a wallet with a few dollars and credit cards, a pink cell phone and the usual girl stuff. He stared at the items. There was no doubt they belonged to Tracy.

I guess we can forget about locating her through her cell, Nick sighed.

He opened the phone to check on recent calls but found the call list blank.

Typical Tracy. She was borderline OCD where her phone was concerned. She habitually cleared her call list after every call. He scribbled her phone numbers on a sheet of paper and called Newly into the office.

Check with the phone company for recent activity on these numbers and find out what tower pinged the last cell call, he ordered, handing him the sheet.

After Newly left the office Dan suggested, It’s possible she left her purse in the car and it slipped out when the door opened,

Nick closed the door firmly before he turned to him.

Sure, Dan, she lost it, he thundered, not even trying to keep his temper under control. Damn it, what the hell’s the matter with you? You’ve been with the department for twenty years and you can’t follow a girl in a shocking pink car. And she wanted to be followed. How could you be so damn stupid?

He stormed over to the window and stared down at the street while he lit another cigarette.

Dan picked up the things and slipped them back into the purse.

I know, Boss. Believe me, you can’t say anything I haven’t told myself at least twice already. In fact, I thought of a few things you didn’t.

Yeah, I imagine you did, Nick conceded.

His voice dropped to more reasonable volume.

Of course you’ve had all night to think about it. Give me time, I’ll get around to them.

He grabbed his jacket off the filing cabinet and opened the door.

Come on, let’s go out there and see what we can find.

Twenty minutes later, Dan pulled off the road and parked beside Bob’s gray Volkswagen.

I wondered where Bobby disappeared to. Nick mused half to himself.

He walked across the muddy field, surveying the area with his flashlight.

His bug is here so he can’t be too far away. You know Bobby isn’t inclined to do too much walking.

Nick played his light on Tracy’s sporty, pink Alfa Romero Giulietta.

It was abandoned behind some partially dismantled buildings, partly concealed by a pile of rubble. Its right fender was only a hair’s breadth away from a jagged chunk of concrete, the front wheels precariously close to a shallow ditch. The car was covered with a thick coat of dust. There were clumps of grass and weeds caught on the wire hubcaps, bumpers, and under carriage.

Nick scowled and jammed his hands into his hip pockets. Tracy literally adored that car and she would never treat it that way. Nor would she park it in such a position.

He faced Dan slowly.

Are you sure Tracy drove the car away from Wellman’s?

I’m positive. She walked out the door and signaled me to follow her. The car pulled out of the driveway a couple minutes later and it wasn’t out of my sight until I lost it about a mile from here. From the looks of it, she must have cut across some of the land that’s been cleared for the new mall.

Nick stared at the car, unable to accept the evidence he saw before him.

Was she alone?

I couldn’t say for sure. Every time I got close to her, she gunned the engine and took off. I thought she might be going to meet somebody and she didn’t want me to roll in on top of her. The more I think about it though, the more I wonder if she was actually driving. Tracy may drive too damn fast most of the time, but she’s a good driver. I’ve never seen her squeal the tires or take a corner on two wheels. Whoever was driving just didn’t handle the car the way Tracy does. And you know she would never park it like this.

Yeah, I know. I was just thinking the same thing.

Nick heard footsteps behind him and he turned to see Bob appear out of the fog.

Bobby Conway was almost as tall as Nick, but at twenty-three, his form hadn’t filled out from the gangling stage. His pixy face was liberally sprinkled with freckles and was capped by a shock of fluorescent red hair. His mouth was permanently stamped into a good natured grin, and his blue eyes were already surrounded by faint laugh lines. He was wearing too-tight jeans, a faded blue work shirt with the sleeves ripped off just below the shoulder, and scruffy black, ankle high boots.

Nick eyed his attire without comment, although restraint was difficult.

Where’ve you been, Bobby?

I’ve been out tramping through these dumb buildings, he drawled lazily.

He stretched his lanky frame across the hood of Dan’s car.

Tramping lightly, I might add. They look like they’re fixing to collapse any second now. I thought it might be a good idea to check them out just in case.

His voice trailed away and he shrugged helplessly. In a soft tone he mumbled. I didn’t find anything, Nick. I checked the car over too. It’s clean.

Show me those footprints.

Over here. I thought one of the men may have carried Tracy from one car to the other. It’s pretty muddy here.

Nick followed him to the other side of the car and bent down to examine the footprints. One set of prints approached Tracy’s car where it was joined by the driver’s prints. Then both men returned to the street and stopped beside the second car’s tire marks. Presumably they got into the car and drove away.

Nick walked along beside the prints, then he crouched down to compare the indentations.

Do you notice anything unusual? he asked.

No, should there be?

"Both sets of prints are men’s. The prints of the man who drove Tracy’s car are about two sizes smaller than mine. He wasn’t too heavy, one forty, maybe one fifty. The other man was about my weight, probably a bit heavier. His shoes are slightly larger than mine and his prints are the same depth both coming and going. If either of them carried Tracy from one car to the other, figure an extra hundred and five pounds, his footprints would be a lot deeper. I seriously doubt she was in the car when they parked it here.

How much time elapsed from the time you lost the car until you found it? Was there enough time to change drivers?

Yeah, we found it here about fifteen minutes after we lost her.

Nick stood up abruptly and walked back to Tracy’s car. Stooping beside the right rear fender, he ran his hand inside, producing a magnetic key case.

I guess that’s all we can do here, he sighed.

He stared at the car for a moment before he handed Dan the key.

Drive the car back to town. Have the lab go over it with a fine tooth comb, inch by inch. Hang around the garage and hustle the lab boys along because I need those reports. I’ll be in my office.

Dan grunted something under his breath and slid into the driver’s seat. He backed out cautiously to avoid scraping the paint. After a moment the car’s tail lights disappeared into the fog.

I guess Dan and I really screwed up this time, Nick, Bob mumbled. I’m damn sorry.

Yeah, I know. Bobby, he sighed without turning around.

He shoved his hands into his pockets again and stared at the place where the car was parked. His eyes searched the soft ground for a clue to what might have happened.

After I leave, I want you to call the Clearwater Police and ask them to send their lab people to go over the area. Tell them I want casts of those prints and the other car’s tire tread. Then cruise the area between here and the place Dan lost the car. There can’t be that many places Tracy could have gone. Maybe you can come up with something.

Right.

Nick looked him over critically. I do hope remembered to bring your ID with you, he commented. Otherwise you might have trouble convincing them you’re an honest to goodness cop. In fact it’s just possible they’ll arrest you for vagrancy.

Yeah, I knew we’d get around to that.

Bob grinned winningly, rearranging the pattern of freckles on his face.

I’ve got my ID in my shoe and it will stand the closest inspection as long as I stay down wind.

He chuckled but when Nick’s stony continence remained unmoved, he shrugged and added seriously.

Come on, Nick. If they picked up on me while I was tailing Tracy, you wouldn’t want me to roll in looking like Joe Fuzz, would you? I have what the captain would refer to as a ‘respectable outfit’ in my car. I promise to make myself pretty before the Clearwater dicks show up.

Make sure you do.

Nick slipped into the driver’s seat of Dan’s car.

When you’re finished here, get your butt back to the office. I may need you.

CHAPTER II

She was startled awake by the sound of brakes squealing. They sounded close, too close. She couldn’t understand how they came to be there of all places. If only she could stop those horrible waves from pounding maybe she’d be able to think clearly.

Dizzily, she picked her head up out of the sand and opened her eyes to find a car only a few short feet away from her. The beam of its headlights blinded her and she turned away, covering her eyes with her hands. A voice, its words indistinct and angry, blended with the slam of the car door and footsteps that hurried across the gravelly pavement. When her eyes became accustomed to the light, she saw the dim outline of a man kneeling beside her.

The boats!

Her voice caught in her throat. She was seized by an unexplained terror at the memory. With trembling hands she reached out and grasped the man’s arm.

Those horrible boats! They’re coming! Don’t let them get me. Please don’t let them get me!

Boats?

He harrumphed and shook his head.

Sure, Kid. Now I’ve heard everything. I don’t know what you’re on but I doubt you’ll find many boats sailing around out here. If you want my opinion you’d be a hell of a lot better off worrying about the cars.

The sarcasm in his voice turned to anger.

You’re just damn lucky my brakes are good, lady. What the hell are you doing out here anyway? Do you realize I came within a hair of hitting you? What are you doing in the middle of the damned road?

Bewildered by his irritation, she released her hold on his arm and glanced about her. She frowned as the dark, lonely road took shape before her eyes. What was a sunlit beach of soft white sand only a moment before was now a dark road covered with rough gravel. The warm breeze was now a damp, chilling wind. The waves that were angrily crashing onto the beach evolved into a grove of orange trees, shrouded like ghosts in the patchy fog. The only thing that remained was the sound of the surf and that was pounding in her brain.

But the boats. They were right here. I mean—they seemed so real.

The memory sent a chill through her and she found herself trembling violently.

The man sighed wearily. Yeah, they usually do.

He slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Look, I’m sorry I yelled at you, he added in a soothing tone. But you scared the living daylights out of me. How did you manage to end up sprawled out in the middle of the road at this ungodly hour of the morning?

She shrugged as she drew his jacket close around her, grateful for its warmth. She made no effort think about where she was or why. She probably wouldn’t have been able to anyway. Her head was spinning too wildly for anything that resembled conscious thought.

He repeated his question, this time with more insistence in his voice. She made an effort to find an answer for him, only to discover that she had no answer to give him. The prickles of alarm rose up inside her and her fingers flew to her throat seeking—something—she had no idea what. They came away empty as her eyes widened with the terror she felt.

I don’t know! I just don’t know. I can’t remember anything!

The smile hardened on his face.

What do you mean you can’t remember? he demanded. You just mean you don’t remember how you got here, don’t you?

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She was numb with shock and the tears that filled her eyes spilled over and rolled unheeded down her cheeks.

Come on, Kid, don’t start that. You’re only going to make things worse, he ordered gruffly.

Confused as she was she could still sense a feeling of concern beneath his words.

You’re probably having a bad reaction to whatever you turned on with tonight. It’ll pass.

I’m what?

The phrase was familiar to her but for a moment she was unsure of its meaning.

Turned on? she frowned, trying to read something in his face.

Isn’t that the usual explanation when people see boats sailing through the orange groves at two in the morning?

He reached into his pocket and drew out a handkerchief.

Here, dry your face and let me help you up. There’s a diner a few miles from here and we can discuss all this over a little breakfast and a hot cup of coffee. You look like you could use some.

He sensed her hesitation and added kindly, Look, I know I’m a stranger and all that. But if I were the type of man your mother always warned you about, this is the sort of place I’d take you to, not from. Besides, I can’t just leave you alone out here, can I?

Oh God, I hope not!

She managed a wry smile.

It never occurred to me the alternative to going with you was staying here.

Meaning I’m the lesser of two evils?

I didn’t exactly mean to put it that way but—

She shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes.

It’s okay, Kid, I understand. Just so I will no longer be a stranger allow me to introduce myself. I’m Tony Anselmo and believe me, you have nothing to worry about. I’m strictly the knight in shining armor type. Heck, I spend half my life roaming through these orange groves looking for pretty ladies in distress to rescue. However, I must apologize for my white charger which you will soon discover is actually a blue Toyota.

He raised his brows questioningly. After a moment he prompted, I suppose I could always call you Miss X.

She frowned at him again. Then, realizing what he was asking she trembled, fighting the panic that was building inside her again.

My name. I don’t know. I’m trying but I can’t remember anything.

All right, try not to think about it right now, Tony advised gently. It’ll come back to you before you know it.

I certainly hope so, she breathed, almost to herself.

She tried unsuccessfully to swallow the lump that filled her throat.

If it doesn’t, you just might end up with a hysterical woman on your hands.

She hoped to keep her voice light. It sounded high pitched and shaky, although it still evinced a lot more confidence than she felt. She took the hand Tony offered her. Leaning heavily on him, she managed to get to her feet with all the grace of a drunken giraffe. Her head began to spin from the activity, her rubbery knees threatened to give way under her. Her stomach churned violently. For one horrible moment she was afraid she was going to disgrace herself further by being sick.

Tony’s arms flew around her and he steadied her until the dizziness passed.

Thanks, I’m all right now, she mumbled after a moment.

She was as grateful for the warm comfort of his arms as she was for the support they provided.

I didn’t mean to throw myself at you like that but I felt kind of light headed.

Don’t mention it. You can have my shoulder for as long as you need it. But it might be a good idea for us to get you into the car before you fall on your face. Watch your step, he cautioned.

He slipped an arm around her waist and steered her toward the car.

I’m afraid the state of Florida isn’t too conscientious about filling up the pot holes in the roads.

Florida? she mused.

She envisioned a shape on a map but beyond that, the name meant nothing else to her.

Yes, of course. The orange trees.

Right. This road leads back onto the main highway about ten miles north of Clearwater.

Tony opened the car door and she settled gratefully onto the seat. The warmth of the car nestled about her, giving her the almost irresistible urge to curl up and go to sleep. Struggling to stay awake, she watched Tony as he walked around to the driver’s side and slid in beside her.

He wasn’t tall, only about five-eight, but he was lean, broad shouldered, and well-built. He was wearing a dark sport shirt and light brown slacks that matched the jacket he wrapped around her shoulders. His face was pleasant and boyish. He might have been described as handsome were it not for his nose which was just a shade too large. His wide mouth smiled easily over a deeply clefted chin. His piercing gray eyes were startling in contrast with his dark hair and deep Florida tan. She would have guessed his age at thirty.

Tony noticed her watching him and smiled pleasantly.

Try and relax, Kid, he advised. You’re not going to help anything if you stay this uptight. You’ll be a lot better off if you try not to think about it. Although I suppose that’s easier said than done.

It is indeed, she answered.

Her eyes were still stinging from the pressure of unshed tears. She quickly faced the window, pretending to be interested in the scenery as it passed.

I’ve been repeating the name Clearwater over and over but it doesn’t mean anything to me. I suppose I must have heard of it. How big a place is it? Do you live there?

Clearwater is a fairly large city and if you’re from around here, I’m sure you would have heard of it. I live in Tampa. He noticed her frown and added, That’s about thirty-five miles from here. It’s a large city and yes, you certainly should know that name whether you’re from around here or not. I was on my way home but I’m not too familiar with this area and I took a wrong turn. It’s lucky for you I did or you’d still be decorating the orange groves.

She gave him a smile that wasn’t entirely forced and pushed a stray wisp of hair back from her eyes. She was surprised when she realized what a tangled mess it was and she searched her pockets for a comb. Finding them empty, she tried to smooth it out with her fingers.

Tony grinned and took a comb out of his pocket.

Typical female, he teased as he handed it to her. The world could come to an end and you’d still be worried about the way you look.

It’s an inborn defense mechanism, she returned lightly. Men wear armor and women fix their hair. At any rate, they try. I can’t believe it’s such a mess.

Chuckling, he pointed to some lights ahead of them.

The diner is just ahead so finish polishing your armor, M’lady, and we’ll get some coffee.

The waitress’s frank appraisal when they entered the diner was enough to make her face burn. The woman managed to make the Good evening, she greeted them with sound lewd and suggestive.

The girl tried to make herself as tiny as possible as they crossed the room and sat in booth at the rear of the diner. The woman followed them and handed them coffee stained menus, then hovered over them while they looked them over.

Zat it? she asked as she scribbled down the order Tony gave her. Be ‘bout ten min’ts.

She gave them a last, knowing smirk and shuffled back to the counter, disappearing through a swinging door that probably led to the kitchen.

It isn’t funny, Tony, she remarked as he snickered behind his hands. I think I’d better take a fast trip to the ladies’ room and make some emergency repairs before I destroy your reputation. I didn’t realize how bad I must look until I saw the way that woman gaped at me. Heaven knows what she must be thinking.

You know exactly what she’s thinking, Tony snorted. You wouldn’t believe the look she gave me.

She grinned at him without answering, then glanced about the diner until she found a sign indicating the restrooms.

I won’t be long, she promised.

Taking the comb he offered her, she slipped out of the booth.

She found the light switch just inside the door and switched it on, flooding the room with light as the door swung shut behind her. A quick movement on one side of the room startled her and she whirled about to find a woman staring at her. Then she relaxed when she realized that she was looking at her own reflection in the mirror.

That’s me! she thought.

Fascinated by what she saw, she moved closer to the glass, gazing at the image. Wondering why her own face should be so unfamiliar to her she did a quick inventory.

She guessed she was in her early twenties, twenty-two perhaps or twenty-three. She was small in stature, no more than five-three, with a figure that was well-rounded in the proper places and gracefully slender in others. Her honey blond hair fell past her shoulders in soft waves framing the fair, porcelain complexion usual to blonds. Her eyes, the color of semi-sweet chocolate, were shaded by long, naturally dark lashes. Her nose was small and straight, tilting just slightly to emphasize a full, sensitive mouth. The set of her jaw could only be described as stubborn.

She was wearing expensive-looking blue slacks and a yellow and blue print blouse. She wore no jewelry however an untanned strip on her left ring finger suggested a ring may have been removed recently.

It was easy to see why the waitress found her appearance so interesting. Her clothes were soiled with dirt from the road and the sleeve of her blouse had a small, jagged tear near the shoulder seam. Her face was tear-stained. Her hands and arms were filthy. Along one side of her neck was a long, narrow scratch that could have been made when a fine chain was roughly torn away.

Despite her disheveled appearance she was fascinated by the reflection in the glass. It was with great reluctance she forced herself to turn away from the mirror.

First the dirt, she thought as she faced the sink. Naturally, the hot water knob spun uselessly in her hand. The cold water tap worked however and noisily released a large amount of air along with a trickle of icy water. She washed quickly, the cold water refreshing her much as it cleaned. Probably more than it cleaned considering the lack of soap. When she finished, she dampened a paper towel and brushed her slacks and blouse.

After she ran Tony’s comb through her hair, she dampened it and arranged it as neatly as she could, not an easy job. She had no idea how she usually styled it.

She took a last, long look at the image in the mirror. Pleased with the improvement, she left the room.

Well, I must say that’s quite a difference, Tony grinned.

His eyes made a hasty appraisal as she sat down across from him.

How are you feeling now?

Better.

She sipped the coffee gratefully, letting the warm liquid trickle down inside her.

I’m a little woozy but otherwise okay. Except for one small problem, that is, she added ruefully.

Yeah, that problem. Don’t worry about it, Kid. I’ll see to it that you get home okay. I just called my partner and told him I might be a little late getting back.

He noted the questioning expression on her face.

We own a restaurant in Tampa. Chuck closed up last night and I was supposed to open this morning. I conned him into switching shifts with me to give us some extra time. That way if we have trouble finding out who you are—

A pained expression crossed her face.

Hastily he assured her, Look, if you live around here we shouldn’t have too much trouble. But if you’re a tourist, and with your accent that’s a possibility, we could have a problem.

She felt the tears burning into her eyes again and she quickly forced the worrisome thoughts out of her mind. Tony was right. She wasn’t going to solve anything that way.

She dabbed her eyes with a napkin as she inquired, Accent? I didn’t realize I had one.

Well, I can assure you, you don’t sound like Central Florida or any other part of Florida for that matter. When I first heard you speak I would have said deep south. Typical Scarlet O’Hara and all that. Now I don’t know. There’s something else in your voice, the way you kind of zip over your R’s for example. I can’t seem to place it.

I’m afraid I can’t help you there either. Until you mentioned it, I didn’t realize I had an accent. I sound perfectly normal to me.

She forced a smile.

But while we’re on the subject of dialects, Tony, I thought you were the one with an accent. You cut all your words off short and then there’s the way you pronounce, or should I say mispronounce your vowels—

Are you getting ready to call me a Yankee? Tony demanded with a laugh. "Because if you are, I readily admit, and with some degree of pride. I am from ‘Joisey’. Known to the uninitiated as New Jersey."

This time her smile wasn’t forced and Tony returned it.

That’s what I like to see. Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are when you smile?

As far as I know, you’re the first.

I find that awfully hard to believe.

He raised his coffee toward his lips but before he could sip it, an idea struck him and he set the mug down with a bang.

Say, I’ve got an idea. If there’s a label in the back of your blouse it could give us a clue to where you live. At least, it will tell us where you shop. Either way, we’ll have some idea where to start looking.

I never thought of that, she beamed.

Her face darkened and she added, The way my luck’s been running tonight, I probably shop at some chain store with a branch less than five minutes drive from every point in the universe.

Bite your tongue! I can’t believe you’re such a pessimist. I can assure you, Kid, that outfit did not come from the five and dime. Now would you mind?

He gestured toward the window and she obediently faced it. Tony folded back the collar of her blouse, exposing a small white tag stitched to the facing.

Parker Brothers, Demens Point, he read. Does that mean anything to you?

Silently she mouthed the words several times as she tried to recall the store.

No, I’m afraid not, she sighed finally, not even trying to conceal her disappointment. Is Demens Point far from here?

About thirty miles. It occurs to me it might be a good idea to head there instead of Clearwater. You could recognize something there. If all else fails we can go to Parker Brothers when it opens tomorrow. If you’re a steady customer, somebody there might recognize you.

Won’t that be awfully far out of your way?

Yes, and it will be an incredible inconvenience, as well. But what else can I do?

Tony shrugged with mock helplessness.

In a teasing tone he continued, I’m just a pushover for a lovely lady in distress.

Well, I’m glad of that. I think I can do without any more ditches tonight, thank you.

She reached across the table and touched his hand.

I really mean it, Tony. Thanks for everything. If you hadn’t come along when you did, I don’t know what I would have done.

Aw, forget it, Kid, he interrupted hastily.

He turned on his boyish grin.

You know, if you keep this up, you’re going to start me blushing. Actually, it won’t be that much farther for me. Tampa is only one bridge away from Demens Point. Does that mean anything to you?

As a matter of fact, it does. If I close my eyes, I can visualize a map of Florida with all those names you mentioned nicely spelled out beside their little dots, but that’s it. I can’t remember anything else about them. That’s really funny, isn’t it? she asked.

The bitterness in her tone revealed just how unfunny she thought it was.

I know there’s a place called Demens Point but my own name—

She bit her lips, choking back the rest of the words as the panic swelled up inside her and threatened to explode.

Oh, Tony, what am I going to do?

Come on, Kid, cool it, Tony ordered under his breath.

He glanced over at the waitress who was slouched against the counter, watching them with interest.

That old girl has already got me tagged as a defiler of young womanhood. If you start bawling in here, she’ll probably get the local feminist organization over here to picket. Seriously, I’ve heard of cases like yours before. One minute you can’t remember anything and the next minute everything comes back just like that.

He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

Oh, if only I could believe that, she whispered in a tight voice.

Heck, why not? That’s the way it happens on television, Tony laughed.

When he noted her face reddening, he grinned.

Hey, I was just kidding. From the expression on your face, one would think the world was about to explode and I just struck a match.

He drained his coffee and set the mug down on the table with a thump.

Come on, let’s get out of here.

She was glad the road to Demens Point was not as dark and lonely as the one where Tony found her. It was lined with tidy restaurants and motels tucked behind gaudy neon signs that were still burning despite the hour. She lay her head against the back of the seat to watch the lights flashing past. The coffee failed to rouse her as she hoped. But it did sharpen her senses, making it easier for her to concentrate.

Or it would have if she could have found something in her mind to concentrate on. She was still unable to break through the barrier that barred the gateway to her memory. The more desperately she tried to grasp at a memory, the more elusive it became.

Hopefully, she thought, Tony was right when he told her all she might need to bring back her memory was the sight of one familiar face or landmark. Even if Tony was wrong, certainly someone had to know who she was. It was impossible for her to find her way into the orange groves on foot and no car was parked in the area. That left only one solution. Someone must have brought her there and left her.

But who? She asked herself. And why?

She frowned, remembering something Tony said earlier.

A bad reaction from whatever you turned on with.

Turned on with? She heard that phrase before and she knew it should mean something to her. Puzzled, she repeated the phrase to herself, her lips silently mouthing the words. After a few moment’s effort she was still unsure of what it meant unless—!

It suddenly occurred to her that Tony was referring to some kind of drugs!

No, that’s impossible!

She refused to accept the idea, discarding it immediately. Then she remembered a small sore she noticed when she was washing. Curiously, she ran her fingers along the soft flesh of her forearm, just below the hollow of her elbow. To her dismay, she found a tiny swelling on the vein.

Needle mark? Tony asked casually.

His voice startled her. She wasn’t aware he was watching her. Covering the offensive mark with her hand, she glanced at him and nodded, her face flushing with embarrassment. She tried to read the expression on his face but he was staring intently at the road, his face stony.

He must be disgusted with me, she thought, as the tears burned into her eyes again. She couldn’t blame him. She was feeling pretty disgusted with herself.

Don’t take it too hard, Kid, Tony advised calmly. You’re definitely not the type and you don’t have any other needle marks I could see. I suspected something like this when I found you on the road and I made it a point to do some very discreet checking while we were in the diner. My guess is you decided to have a fling and you either overdosed or had a bad trip. That would explain those boats of yours. When you passed out, your little friends panicked and dumped you out there in the orange groves. They probably made tracks out of there so they wouldn’t be blamed if something, well, permanent happened to you.

That’s possible, she admitted.

Her fingers tightened on her arm and she forced herself to focus her thoughts on something else.

"Tony, suppose when we get to Demens Point, well suppose I still don’t remember anything? What am I going to do then?

I don’t know. I imagine we’ll think of something, but why borrow trouble? We can worry about that if and when the time comes.

Maybe I should go to an emergency room, or perhaps the police station. Maybe they could find out who I am from my fingerprints or something.

That’s always an option. If all else fails, that may be the only one. It will be all right, trust me.

He touched her hand and she smiled at him.

That’s better, he grinned. Why don’t you try to get some rest, Kid? We’ve got a way to go and you look like you’ve just about had it.

She rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes. The easy motion of the car combined with the humming of the engine relaxed her. Her weariness gradually overcame her anxiety. She was almost asleep when the car lurched suddenly, throwing her against the door.

Instantly, she was wide awake.

Tony, what—?

Don’t get upset, he whispered, But I think a car is fallowing us. I’ve been watching it and they seem to be keeping a steady distance behind us no matter how fast or slow I go. Of course it is possible they just happen to be going in the same direction we are, but I think I’ll make a couple of fast turns and find out for sure.

She turned and fixed her eyes on the car behind them as Tony swung left onto a small side street. He made a quick right turn onto a narrow street running parallel with the main road and pushed the accelerator to the floor. Nervously, she watched the speedometer needle creep higher. Seconds later the other car fell in behind them again, following in tandem.

At the next intersection the traffic light turned red just as they pulled up to it. Cursing under his breath, Tony eased his foot off the gas pedal. He flicked on his turn indicator as he pulled into the right lane and coasted to a stop. The other car began to close up the distance between them. Tony glanced into the rearview mirror and watched as the car rolled to a stop behind them. Then he stamped on the gas pedal, jerking the wheel left. The car squealed across two traffic lanes to make a left turn through the red light. The driver of the other car hesitated only a second before he roared after them.

I guess there isn’t any doubt now, Tony observed tensely.

Maybe it’s a cop. The way my luck seems to be running, you’ll probably end up with a ticket.

He’s no cop, Kid. Believe me, he’s no cop.

She glanced fearfully at the headlights behind them.

I guess not. But why are they doing this? What could they want?

I haven’t the slightest idea. I was sort of hoping you could tell me. Nobody I know would pull a stunt like this. They have to be looking for you.

Her face brightened and she felt a feeling of relief pass through her.

Well, then they must know me. I mean, that’s what we want, isn’t it? They can probably tell me who I am. Why don’t we just stop and ask them what they want?

Undoubtedly they do know you but I don’t think stopping for a chat would the best idea. Their attitude isn’t exactly what I’d call friendly."

His words were calm but there was something in the tone of his voice that alarmed her.

She frowned her confusion.

If they were friends of yours, they’d simply catch up to us and give a few blasts of the horn. But they seem to prefer tailing us instead. They appear to be waiting until we get onto a lonely stretch of road which, by the way, we’ll be doing at the next light.

His voice trailed away and he shrugged ominously.

She shuttered and peered down the road. The traffic light was twinkling in the darkness just a short distance ahead of them.

Still traveling at a high rate of speed, they hit the light red. Tony raced through it and turned onto a dimly lit road, the tires squealing in alarm. The other car swung in behind them and gradually began to close up the distance between them.

Here they come, damn it all, Tony growled tensely.

He floored the accelerator and the little Toyota leaped forward. Still the other car continued to gain on them.

I don’t know what they’re driving but we’re not going to outrun them in this crate, he muttered under his breath. Hang on, Kid, I’m going to try to outfox him.

She nodded solemnly and gripped the arm rest as Tony swung the wheel hard to the left aiming toward another street. The tires screeched and the car skidded into the oncoming lane, almost reversing its direction as the stink of burning rubber filtered into the car. Frantically spinning the wheel, Tony managed to regain control of the car and he sent it streaking onto the narrow street.

They’re still behind us, she whispered. You didn’t lose them, Tony, but you darn near lost me.

Well, I told you to hang on, he growled, his jaw tight.

His teeth were clenched and his mouth hardened into a narrow slit. She could tell he was almost as unnerved by the situation as she was. Returning his attention to the road, Tony spun the wheel again and the car squealed onto a narrow side street that wound through a wealthy residential section. He turned again at the next corner, then made another fast right.

I think you lost them, she whispered breathlessly as she peered over the back of the seat again. There aren’t any lights behind us. I didn’t see them make that last turn.

Good.

He exhaled noisily and eased his foot off the accelerator.

They’ll probably cruise around for a while looking for us. We’d better find a place to play possum.

He made another quick left, although this time he did manage to keep all four wheels on the pavement when he turned. He drove slowly along the street, keeping his eyes on the side of the road. Finding a likely spot, he eased into a long, winding driveway that was almost entirely concealed by a high hedge on either side. The car rolled to a stop, out of sight of both the road and the house beyond it. Tony cut the lights and the engine.

Do you still want to stop and ask them if they know you?

She shook her head solemnly.

You were right. I guess it wouldn’t be the best idea. Tony, I can’t believe all this is happening to me

He reached into his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes and she noticed that his hands were shaking as he fumbled to remove one. He offered her one and when she refused, he lit one for himself and inhaled deeply.

Whatever I was involved in tonight, she began shakily, I guess it was more than just a wild party.

Talk about understatement.

Tony drew on his cigarette and let the air out with a soft, whistling sound.

I think we’d better sit here for a few minutes. Then we’ll wind around these streets for a while before we take a different road south.

CHAPTER III

Nick walked into his office, picked up the phone, and called Tracy’s number. Even before it rang, he knew she wouldn’t answer. He’d been trying the number all night with the same result. Still, he let it ring for a full minute before he hung up. He rested his head in his hands, trying to think of some logical explanation for what happened. His thoughts were still circling in a holding pattern when Steve Walton strolled into the office fifteen minutes later.

Sit down, Steve, he growled without looking up. What did you pick up at Wellman’s?

Not a hell of a lot, I’m afraid.

He yawned lazily as he settled into a chair.

"The ID on the murder victim isn’t positive yet but I saw the body. It’s definitely Charlie Wellman. He was killed by a bullet through the left temple clean as a whistle. From the angle of the wound I’d guess the killer was on the tall side, five-ten to six-two, but that’s’ only my opinion at this point. The bullet went clear through and lodged in the front door jamb. They’re running the 9mm slug through the lab now. Another shot was fired in the opposite direction. It went wild, smashed a kitchen window, and probably hit somewhere in the back yard. They’ll start searching for that one tomorrow morning.

"That gives us a bit of a riddle. We’re sure the killer was standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the hall, facing the hall when Charlie was shot. His body was found in the foyer by the front door. From the position of the body he had to be facing the kitchen when he bought it. Either Wellman fired at the killer before he was shot or they were waltzing around in there. No weapons were found but they’re going to check Wellman’s hands to see if he fired a gun recently. There wasn’t any brass on the scene so the killer must have taken it with him.

"They don’t have too much on the woman the neighbors claimed they heard. Forensic thinks she’s a blond from several long hairs they found on the back of the couch. They also found a woman’s fingerprints on some of the furniture but that’s not really surprising. We know Tracy was there tonight. From what the neighbors told us Charlie and the woman had quite an argument. Brief but loud. Nobody seems to know what they were fighting about.

Boss, I seriously doubt he was arguing with Tracy. Somehow I can’t picture her screaming at anybody the way the neighbors say that woman was screaming at Charlie.

Humph, if you only knew, Nick remarked, a slow smile spreading across his face. But I agree it couldn’t have been Tracy they heard. Dan says she left Wellman’s house around seven forty-five and he still had her car in sight at eight o’clock.

He stood up and slipped into his jacket.

I’m going to take a ride over to her house and see if I can figure what the hell’s going on. Maybe she left some kind of message. And don’t tell me she isn’t home, he added irritably when Steve started to speak. "I know she isn’t home, damn it. The drug delivery