Remember Me (A Katie Winter FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 9)

By Molly Black

When a body is found gruesomely impaled on a tree in a frozen landscape, FBI Special Agent Katie Winter must team up with her partner to enter this killer’s mind. But the case leads her down a rabbit hole deeper—and more dangerous—than she ever could have expected.

“Molly Black has written a taut thriller that will keep you on the edge of your seat… I absolutely loved this book and can’t wait to read the next book in the series!”
—Reader review for Girl One: Murder

REMEMBER ME is book #9 in a new series by #1 bestselling mystery and suspense author Molly Black.

FBI Special Agent Katie Winter is no stranger to frigid winters, isolation, and dangerous cases. With her sterling record of hunting down serial killers, she is a fast-rising star in the BAU, and Katie is the natural choice to partner with Canadian law enforcement to track killers across brutal and unforgiving landscapes.

A page-turning and harrowing crime thriller featuring a brilliant and tortured FBI agent, the KATIE WINTER series is a riveting mystery, packed with non-stop action, suspense, twists and turns, revelations, and driven by a breakneck pace that will keep you flipping pages late into the night. Fans of Rachel Caine, Teresa Driscoll and Robert Dugoni are sure to fall in love.

Future books in the series will be available soon!

“I binge read this book. It hooked me in and didn't stop till the last few pages… I look forward to reading more!”
—Reader review for Found You

“I loved this book! Fast-paced plot, great characters and interesting insights into investigating cold cases. I can't wait to read the next book!”
—Reader review for Girl One: Murder

“Very good book… You will feel like you are right there looking for the kidnapper! I know I will be reading more in this series!”
—Reader review for Girl One: Murder

“This is a very well written book and holds your interest from page 1… Definitely looking forward to reading the next one in the series, and hopefully others as well!”
—Reader review for Girl One: Murder

“Wow, I cannot wait for the next in this series. Starts with a bang and just keeps going.”
—Reader review for Girl One: Murder

“Well written book with a great plot, one that will keep you up at night. A page turner!”
—Reader review for Girl One: Murder

“A great suspense that keeps you reading… can't wait for the next in this series!”
—Reader review for Found You

“Sooo soo good! There are a few unforeseen twists… I binge read this like I binge watch Netflix. It just sucks you in.”
—Reader review for Found You

• Language: English
• Publisher: Molly Black
• Release date: Sep 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094394794

Book preview

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R E M E M B E R   M E

(A Katie Winter FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 9)

M o l l y   B l a c k

Molly Black

Bestselling author Molly Black is author of the MAYA GRAY FBI suspense thriller series, comprising nine books (and counting); of the RYLIE WOLF FBI suspense thriller series, comprising six books (and counting); of the TAYLOR SAGE FBI suspense thriller series, comprising six books (and counting); and of the KATIE WINTER FBI suspense thriller series, comprising nine books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Molly loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.mollyblackauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2022 by Molly Black. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright Mia Strendal, used under license from Shutterstock.com.

BOOKS BY MOLLY BLACK

MAYA GRAY MYSTERY SERIES

GIRL ONE: MURDER (Book #1)

GIRL TWO: TAKEN (Book #2)

GIRL THREE: TRAPPED (Book #3)

GIRL FOUR: LURED (Book #4)

GIRL FIVE: BOUND (Book #5)

GIRL SIX: FORSAKEN (Book #6)

GIRL SEVEN: CRAVED (Book #7)

GIRL EIGHT: HUNTED (Book #8)

GIRL NINE: GONE (Book #9)

RYLIE WOLF FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

FOUND YOU (Book #1)

CAUGHT YOU (Book #2)

SEE YOU (Book #3)

WANT YOU (Book #4)

TAKE YOU (Book #5)

DARE YOU (Book #6)

TAYLOR SAGE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

DON’T LOOK (Book #1)

DON’T BREATHE (Book #2)

DON’T RUN (Book #3)

DON’T FLINCH (Book #4)

DON’T REMEMBER (Book #5)

DON’T TELL (Book #6)

KATIE WINTER FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

SAVE ME (Book #1)

REACH ME (Book #2)

HIDE ME (Book #3)

BELIEVE ME (Book #4)

HELP ME (Book #5)

FORGET ME (Book #6)

HOLD ME (Book #7)

PROTECT ME (Book #8)

REMEMBER ME (Book #9)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

The nighttime forest was still and quiet. Only the faintest breeze rustled the trees as Max Granger crept along the path, checking behind him every few steps. He was on the alert for the gleam of a flashlight, or a loud shout, or the barking of a guard dog. Anything that told him he'd been discovered.

He tugged the hood of his black jacket lower over his face. Soft moonlight shone through the leaves, faintly showing him the way.

In his hands he clutched the tools of his trade - four large buckets, and a bag that contained a battery-operated drill, and four homemade PVC spiles that he was using as tree taps.

In this lush forest, rich with the sap and foliage of spring, he was going to steal maple sap straight from the trees. With daytime temperatures now warming, and night temperatures still icy cold, this was the best time of the year for tapping the trees, when the sap was sweet and flowing.

There was a market for it. Maple syrup was an expensive commodity. He had a connection that paid well. The illegal network was thriving.

But it was creating a lot of anger, as Max knew. Farmers were seeking to crush it, to stop the theft at all costs. That was why there was every need for caution. He'd heard that some of these farms were employing armed guards who had been told to shoot on sight. He didn't know how true that was. He hoped it was just a rumor, deliberately spread to put off opportunity seekers like himself, but still, he knew there was more risk than there had been last season.

The farmers said that the illegal tapping harmed the trees, not only stressing them in terms of sap production, but also damaging the fine and expensive wood with the too-large drill bits and the clumsy insertion of the taps which the thieves used. It made them less valuable for when the trees were felled.

But the way Max saw it, the farmers had thousands of trees. Maybe even millions! They were wealthy, they drove big SUVs, they lived on fancy ranches. Their forests covered hundreds of acres.

They could spare a few trees! He only targeted a few each time, pushing in the taps, attaching his brown-painted buckets which were barely visible against the bark. Then, two nights later, he would sneak in again to collect his largesse, the buckets full of sticky, fragrant sap ready for him to take and sell.

It was early in the summer season, and Max was getting in there now, to take what he could from trees that already had two taps in place. He was adding just one more per tree, hoping the addition wouldn’t be noticed. They could surely handle that?

As Max paced, soft-footed, through the forest, he felt a sense of resentment toward the farmers.

They were threatening him, driving him out, rumors abounding that they would shoot to kill. And he was just scraping a living, doing what he did, in the long, exhausting, risky nights. He was an unemployed guy otherwise. He had to afford things somehow!

Every night he was out, he knew, he risked death or arrest. Even if he was only stealing a few buckets of sap.

But in a strange way he thought of these as his woods, his trees. He knew the pathways through the plantations intimately, he liked the feelings that ran through him when he was here, seeing the sap glisten on the trees, the smell and feel of earth, of leaves. The adrenaline rush, the feeling of being on the edge.

But, as he paused to listen again, the adrenaline rush changed to a surge of fright.

There were footsteps behind him. He could hear them pacing softly through the trees.

Sneaky, stealthy footsteps. And as he turned, wide-eyed, he saw the gleam of a flashlight.

Max's heart started to accelerate. They knew he was here. No way was this a coincidence. They must have seen him creep into the woods and followed him.

Now he'd have to hide, and hope that the matte black clothing he wore provided cover against that piercing flashlight, and didn't give him away.

Fear lanced through him again as he realized something else.

This lone person, walking through the woods, this didn't seem like a typical security operation which usually took place in pairs or groups.

It felt more like a renegade on the hunt. One man on his own, on a mission. A murderous mission. Those footsteps sounded implacable. It seemed inevitable that the bright beam, swinging from left to right, would soon pick out his shape or the shape of his buckets.

He noticed the paint was peeling off the outer one, leaving its shiny white surface visible, and his teeth clenched as he realized how that white plastic would gleam in the light.

Frantically fighting for calmness, Max told himself he was just being paranoid. Just paranoid. It was no more than a bored security guard doing his job, walking through to check for any extra buckets on the trees, or maybe even a late night hiker passing through. All he had to do was go further back into the woods to hide.

But if it was routine, why were the footsteps stopping, as if the man following him was listening out for any sound? As if he was straining to hear Max walking. Max breathing. The rattle of a bucket, or the items in the bag he carried.

Anything that would give away where he was.

If he was shot, deep in these woods, nobody would hear the gun go off. And nobody would find him. In the vastness of the forest, he could easily be buried under a loose covering of soil, in one of the grassy strips between the trees, to rot away undiscovered until, one day, someone stumbled upon his bones.

Max decided to retreat further into the woods. Hiding, now, was the priority.

He didn’t want to be shot by a rogue guard, someone who was longing to use his gun without consequences and had been given free rein by the farmers, who would turn a blind eye to whatever happened, confident that there would be no repercussions. Law enforcement in this area wasn’t trusted. Police had a hard time doing their job.

He’d told nobody where he was. Why would he? Telling anyone was a rookie error. But it meant that in the forest, he'd be gone forever, would never be found.

He pulled the hood over his face, crouched low and slunk into the trees, not daring to use his flashlight, hoping that the darkness of night and their tall trunks would give him cover.

But the stranger was not so cautious. The beam swept across the forest, lighting up the trunks, and a moment later, it veered toward Max's hiding place.

His legs felt weak with fear. His chest felt tight.

He had to act fast.

He backed away, trying to use the tree trunks as cover, retreating while trying to keep his equipment bag quiet and still, not allowing himself to breathe hard or to make a mistake, to stumble over one of the tree roots.

He wanted to run, but knew he couldn't risk it. Not in the pitch dark.

Max's heart was beating. It felt like it was trying to burst out of his rib cage. He felt his breaths become shallow; he couldn't get enough oxygen into his lungs. The beam was getting closer. The footsteps were getting louder. Who was this man, hunting him so patiently?

Max backed away. If he could get behind this big, solid trunk, he might just be able to hide. It was one of the biggest trees in the area.

He looked up, seeing the breadth of its trunk, the branches high above. This would have been a good tree to tap. He could have filled two buckets easily. But now, all he was hoping was that this tree would make him invisible to whoever was pursuing him so implacably.

He backed up another step.

And then, he fell. His feet came up against something solid and heavy, something that shifted and moved when he touched it, but not enough. A loose root, growing out of the ground, perhaps. Unbalanced, surprised, he fell.

His buckets clattered down. The bag with his tools jingled and thudded onto the ground. This was it, he'd busted himself, it was too late. Now the footsteps would undoubtedly turn his way.

He put a hand down to the root, bracing himself to push off from it and run. Headlong flight was his only chance to get away now.

But as his hand reached the tree, he didn’t touch the rough, knotted bark he'd been expecting. Instead, his hand clenched over something that was icy cold, and soft, and felt strangely familiar. Familiar and terrible.

Now hyperventilating, he stared down. Stared at something that was faintly visible in the glow of moonlight.

A naked body that was as pale as porcelain in the gloomy dark. A sheet-white face. A head. Eyes that were dark in the face, a parted, bloodless mouth.

Blonde hair cascaded like a river over the shoulders.

He backed away, gasping, realizing his hands were now dirtied with soil that was damp and strangely red, and panic flared in his mind.

It was a corpse, a corpse under the tree, a woman who had bled out, tapped like the maples themselves. This was so impossible, so terrifying, that Max didn't care anymore who found him, or who shot him. He didn't care if the footsteps following him came closer or if the flashlight pinned him in its beam. The consequences no longer mattered. All that mattered was the horror of this present moment.

Panting with fear, Max began to scream and scream and scream.

CHAPTER ONE

Katie Winter paced up and down in the hospital waiting room, walking from one of the pale blue painted walls to the other, feeling stressed and worried and, above all, impatient. She glanced again at the door on the far wall. When would a doctor open it, to update her on what she needed to know?

It was five a.m. Just a few hours ago, her twin, Josie, had been airlifted here, to Rochester General Hospital, New York. After spending sixteen years in captivity, held prisoner by a psychopath who had taken her, Katie had finally hunted her down in the wilderness of Canada, a few miles from the border. After a deadly fight, Katie had rescued her twin from the underground hiding place where she’d been imprisoned.

As she walked up and down the waiting room, pushing back her brown hair, Katie felt guilt overtake her again. She was trying so hard not to feel responsible for what had happened. But it was impossible.

She was the cause of the hellish sixteen years her twin had endured. It was Katie's fault. All her doing.

It had been her idea to go on the kayaking adventure when the river was in flood. Josie's kayak had capsized. Unconscious and injured, she had been snatched from the riverbank where she had washed up, by the strange, bearded man, Gabriel Rath.

He'd taken her away with him, and after that, Katie had no idea what her twin had to endure. All she knew was that sixteen years later, after piecing together what had happened, she had confronted Rath in his hideaway.

She'd killed him. The memory of that fight was something her mind was still not ready to deal with. Arriving there hoping to speak to Rath, she’d had no choice but to defend herself as he attacked her savagely with a knife, yelling that he’d been waiting for her and for that moment. Katie had been forced to draw her gun. She’d hoped to wound him with her shot, to make him drop the knife. But he’d jumped sideways, straight into the path of the bullet as she’d pulled the trigger, and it had killed him almost instantly.

And then, as afternoon turned to evening, she had found Josie, hidden away under the floorboards in a filthy, cold, underground room.

Katie could hardly bear to remember those first moments, first of hope and then of shock. Her twin had not spoken, but stared at her silently.

Josie was emaciated. Covered in sores. Her hair, her body, were filthy beyond description. Even her face was not like Katie remembered at all. Only those green eyes, wide and terrified, had looked familiar.

And she hadn't spoken. Hadn't said a word as Katie had frantically pulled her out of her hideaway. She’d been weak, dehydrated, almost comatose.

Then, in response to Katie’s phone call, the police and paramedics had helicoptered in. There must have been twenty people on the scene as night fell, bustling around, trying to manage the situation. Katie had been interrogated by the local RCMP officers and had to explain and justify her actions.

The fight scene had been tracked through the cabin. Markers had been put in place indicating what had happened where. The entire scene had been photographed.

Katie herself had been a murder suspect for a few long hours, until the evidence trail had been analyzed and she had been cleared. She knew the trauma of that time would live with her for years.

She barely remembered how she'd gotten out of that cold, remote scene, but what she did recall was begging that she should be taken where Josie was going.

The thought of being separated from her twin again was more than she could handle.

Scott, her boss at the cross-border task force, had intervened. He had organized for a helicopter to take Katie straight to the hospital in Rochester where Josie had been rushed earlier. Since Josie was a U.S. citizen the transfer had been cross-border.

Arriving at the hospital, Katie had been told that there would be no news for a few more hours while they assessed Josie, who was currently sedated following her ordeal. So Katie had booked into a guesthouse across the road from the hospital, but she'd done no more than take a shower to wash off the blood and grime from her fight, before returning to the hospital to find out if Josie was okay.

The wait felt endless. But finally, she saw, the door at the other end of the room was opening. At last, she would know if her sister was going to survive her ordeal.

Katie rushed over to the door as the doctor walked in. He was a man in his forties, with receding blonde hair, keen blue eyes, and a lean, intense face.

Ms. Winter? he greeted her.

Yes, that's me. Doctor Nicklaus? she read the name on his tag. Is there any news?

Your sister’s vitals are stabilizing and she’s out of danger, the doctor said.

Katie felt a rush of relief.

But then the doctor continued, his voice serious. I must warn you we're not out of the woods yet. She suffered from a panic attack when we tried to treat her wounds, and clean her up. Understandable, after what she's been through. But it's going to be safer, and better for her healing, to keep her sedated for a while more. We're looking at keeping her under, and on a drip, for another few hours at least. Perhaps longer.

Katie nodded.

Yes, I can understand that she would be very traumatized after what she's been through, she said, trying to swallow down her disappointment. She'd longed to spend time with Josie, to offer her encouragement on her healing, to tell her that she loved her.

It may take a while for her to fully recover. We'll update you again as soon as we can, the doctor said, with a sympathetic nod, before turning and walking back into the ward.

Now that Katie was more certain Josie was going to survive, she had another important task. She didn't know how she felt about this. It wasn't going to be easy. But she needed to tell her parents that Josie was still alive, that she was in the hospital, and that she was going to get better.

Her parents had been estranged from her ever since Josie's disappearance. She'd recently tried to mend the relationship, but after Katie admitted that she was still searching for Josie, her father had cut off ties once again.

Now, it was time to call her parents. At five-fifteen a.m. they would hopefully be awake and ready to speak to her, and hopefully to travel through to the hospital.

Taking out her cellphone, Katie dialed the number.

The call cut off immediately. She frowned down in concern. What was wrong?

With a frustrated sigh, Katie then remembered that her father had blocked all her numbers. That was how angry, how hurt, he had been.

That was how much pain this incident had caused, pain that had stretched over sixteen years, causing destruction and heartbreak and an annihilation of the relationship between Katie and her parents.

That was what Katie blamed herself for.

She hated that she'd brought this pain into their lives. She hated that she had caused this incident, and hadn't been there to save her sister.

Although she knew that accidents happened, and that it was surely unfair to heap so much blame onto a sixteen-year-old who was already hurting, but that was how this disaster had played out.

It had forced her to go out into the world, to be independent, to make her own way, without support, love, or encouragement.

And it had definitely guided her into the field of law enforcement. She'd wanted to make things right in society, to try to atone for the disaster she had caused that could never be fixed.

She had no idea how her parents would react to this news. But she had to tell them, no matter how difficult it might be. They needed to rush here, to be by Josie's side, to wait for her to come out from under the sedation and to reunite with her again.

Josie needed her family right now. And if Katie didn't make this call, who else would?

She'd seen a payphone near the hospital entrance. It had been years since Katie had used one. She was surprised there were still any around. It seemed ludicrous that she would have to use this to call her parents, but it was the easiest option.

Leaving the waiting room, Katie hurried downstairs, rushing through the disinfectant-scented corridors, her shoes squeaking over the clean and shiny tiles.

She headed out, through the muted, early morning activity in the main lobby, and walked over to the payphone.

It looked forlorn, scuffed, and seldom used.

She checked the phone number.

Then, standing in the cool spring evening, she made the call that she knew would change her parents' lives forever.

CHAPTER TWO

Katie felt breathless as she listened to the phone ring. Who would answer, her mother or her father? Would they listen when they heard her voice? Or hang up on her immediately? Her stomach twisted at the thought. Surely they wouldn't do that.

When she’d been a kid, five a.m. had been a busy time in the summer months. Her dad would already be awake, in the shed behind the house, preparing for the day ahead, hitching up his trailer, checking bookings for the boats he hired out. Her mother would be making coffee and snacks for the guests, school lunch for Katie and Josie.

When she'd been there recently, the house had been different. Quieter. Her parents had been shrouded in depression and grief, staring at the television. Surely at this early hour, they couldn’t already be stationed there? And yet that was how she pictured them. That image of them had stuck in her mind.

Just as she thought it was going to ring unanswered, the call was picked up.

Hello?

Katie felt a rush of relief that it was her mother speaking. She closed her eyes, and gripped the phone tighter in her hand. She knew what the next few words would mean.

Mom? she said in a low voice. It's me, Katie. Please don't hang up. I’m calling from a payphone. I have important news. She needed to get that imperative across to her.

What is it? Are you okay? She could almost imagine her mother, standing in the hallway, glancing behind her, conscious of her father's angry inhalation of breath from the living room as he realized that the daughter that he'd banned from communicating, was getting in touch again.

I'm fine. She took a deep breath. Mom, I - I found her. I found Josie.

Tears prickled her own eyes at the words, flowing onto her cheeks, unstoppable. Her chest was heaving as she spoke and she found herself fighting for control.

Her mother gasped.

What? Katie, what - you mean, you found her? Are you saying she's - she’s alive?

She's alive. She's not well, but she's stable. She's in Rochester General Hospital. Sedated. He had her. Gabriel had her. He kept her locked away.

It didn't help that now she could hear her mother sobbing - great, rough, gasping sobs that sounded as if her whole heart's pain was being poured out. No way could Katie stop herself from crying as she heard this onslaught of emotion.

You need to get here. Please. As soon as you can.

She wanted to hear some acknowledgement from her mother. But all she heard were the sobs, more intense and heartfelt than any grief she'd ever heard before.

Rochester General Hospital. I'm here, Mom.

She thought her mother was trying to say something.

But then, abruptly, the call was cut.

*

Katie sat in the waiting room, fidgeting impatiently. It was an hour and a half later. She didn't know what was happening, or if her parents were going to arrive.

She hadn't wanted to call back. They knew her cellphone number if they needed to call her. All they had to do was unblock it.

But if they had decided to come to the hospital, if they'd gotten into their car and headed to Rochester, then they should be arriving at any moment.

She could hear the nurses and doctors coming and going in the neighboring ward. But the corridor door remained closed. She'd heard no other visitors, no other voices.

And then, suddenly, footsteps approached and the door swung open.

Her mother walked in, her face sheet-white, her eyes swollen. She seemed dazed, as if she was treading a line between disbelief and reality.

Katie, she cried. Oh Katie. You found her. Is she really here? Really okay?

The tears streamed down her mother's face.

Katie stood up, rushing over to her mother, enfolding her in her arms, holding her close.

She'll be okay. She's going to be better. They said so. But she's sedated now.

She hadn’t held her this way for sixteen years, in all the time she'd been estranged from her family.

I can't believe it, she wept, I - I can't believe it. It's incredible. You found her.

I promised I'd try, Katie whispered.

Katie felt her mother convulse with sobs, holding on to her with desperation.

I'm so sorry for what I did, she sobbed, I'm so sorry I failed you. I failed her.

No, Katie comforted her. You didn't fail me or Josie. It's all okay.

Katie put her arms around her, and held her tightly, waiting until her sobs had calmed, watching while she dabbed at her face, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

And then, looking up, she saw her father walk in.

He looked more forlorn than Katie had ever seen him.

He had also been crying. His eyes were reddened and swollen. His shoulders were hunched. His graying hair was tousled and untidy.

He looked at Katie. Then he looked down.

I'm sorry, Katie, he said. I'm so, so sorry. I don’t know how to say this, the words don’t mean enough. I doubted you. I couldn't hear what you said. I didn't believe it was possible.

It is possible, Dad, Katie said.

She stepped forward and embraced her dad. He wasn't much of a hugger. The embrace felt awkward, but he held her tight, and to Katie, it meant the world.

Shall we go and see Josie? her mother asked. Are we allowed?

I guess we are, Katie said.

She walked over to the door where the doctor had come out, and pushed it open, finding herself in a small annex.

Beyond was the other door to Josie's private high-care ward. Katie tapped on it, and a minute later, a nurse opened it.

The white-uniformed woman looked inquiringly at Katie.

Do you want to see Josie? she asked, glancing at her parents beyond.

Yes, if it's possible, please, Katie said.

Sure. You can come in. She's sedated, so you can't interact with her. But I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear your voice.

There was a hint of uncertainty in the nurse's voice; Katie wasn't sure why. She saw she had a fresh, deep scratch on her cheek.

The nurse stepped aside and Katie walked in, with her parents anxiously crowding through the doorway behind her. They walked over to the bed where Josie lay. She'd been bathed, Katie saw, but her skin still looked pale and sallow, as if starved of sunshine for years. Her lips were cracked and dry. Lines on either side of her mouth and around her eyes were deep and grim even in repose, and Katie thought, with a clench of her stomach, that they spoke of untold stress, suffering, and torment. Her eyes, though closed, looked sunken, with blue shadows underscoring them.

The beeping of machines was the audible reassurance that she was alive, that she was stable. A drip filtered liquids and nutrients into her veins.

Her mother stepped forward and grasped her hand. Josie’s nails looked freshly cut and Katie guessed the hospital had done that. They hadn't been able to do anything with her hair, though, except to chop the tangled, filthy mess into a roughly short, neat style.

Oh, Josie, Josie, her mother whispered.

Tears dripped down onto her twin's arm.

Things are going to be okay, Katie said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

Wanting to give her father some space, Katie stepped back. Her father sat down on the chair by the bed. He reached out and took Josie's other hand.

Hello, my little girl, he said, tears staining his cheeks. Oh, my little girl.

And, at that moment, her phone started buzzing in her pocket. It was Leblanc's name on the screen, she saw.

Detective Leblanc, her case partner at the cross-border task force, and now, her lover.

I’m just going to go out and take this call, she murmured, but she didn’t think her parents even heard. They were so preoccupied with Josie, that Katie didn’t feel guilty for giving them some time alone with her as she hurried out and picked it up.

Leblanc. Where are you? I'm here at Rochester hospital.

She wasn't sure where Leblanc would be, whether he would still be at work, in the office at Sault Ste. Marie where the task force was based, or whether he would already be home in his apartment.

But his next words shocked her.

I'm here, too. At the hospital. Scott told me what happened. I had to come and see you, Katie. I needed to make sure for myself that you were okay. And to speak to you. There’s something I have to tell you urgently.

Katie's eyes widened. Leblanc was here? That was a total shock. Over and above the stress of her current situation, she felt her heart briefly lift at the thought of seeing him. What did he need to tell her?

Feeling curious to know, and eager to see him, she rushed out of the waiting room and down the stairs to meet him.

CHAPTER THREE

Katie rushed through the hospital lobby, spotting Leblanc immediately at the entrance door. Tall, olive skinned, dark-haired, with his usually stern face lighting up as he saw her.

She rushed