A Woman With A Mystery
SHE HAD NO MEMORY AND NO PASTA year ago Holly Barrows had raced through a raging snowstorm–convinced someone was trying to kill her–into the arms of Slade Rawlins. She'd appeared before him like a beautiful apparition in the dark of night. But she was real, flesh and blood, and his fingers had memorized every curve of her body. Then she'd mysteriously vanished, only to return the following Christmas with an outrageous claim of kidnapping.COULD THEY HAVE A FUTURE?Monsters, she'd said, had taken her baby. But any baby she'd had would also have been Slade's. And he was consumed by his need to protect Holly and locate their child before the family he desperately wanted was lost…forever.
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He’d hoped that she would remember the two of them on her own…
“Do you recall where you were this time last year?” he asked. “From Christmas Eve through the end of February?”
Her head jerked up. She said nothing as her surprised gaze locked with his, but her face paled and she dropped the glass in her hand. It hit the hardwood floor, shattering like a gunshot, ice shooting out, the last of the cola puddling at her feet. But she didn’t move. She stared at him as if seeing a ghost. No doubt a ghost of Christmas Past.
“You?” she cried, all the ramifications coming at Mach-two speed.
“The baby—”
“It’s ours…?”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in Houston, B.J. Daniels is a former Southern girl who grew up on the smell of gulf sea air and Southern cooking. But like her characters, her home is now in Montana, not far from Big Sky, where she snowboards in the winters and boats in the summers with her husband and daughters. She does miss gumbo and Texas barbecue, though! Her first Harlequin Intrigue novel was nominated for the Romantic Times Magazine Reviewer’s Choice Award for best first book and best Harlequin Intrigue. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Heart of Montana and Bozeman Writers group. B.J. loves to hear from readers. Write to her at: P.O. Box 183, Bozeman, MT 59771.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Holly Barrows—Someone had taken control of her mind—and her memory. Now they had her baby. But had they “sent” her to Private Investigator Slade Rawlins? Or was she starting to remember her past?
Slade Rawlins—The private investigator had his own reasons for wanting Holly to remember—everything.
Shelley Rawlins—Slade’s twin knew more about their mother’s murder than she thought—enough to get her killed.
Dr. Allan Wellington—The doctor might be dead, but he was far from forgotten.
Inez Wellington—How far would she go to keep her brother’s legacy alive?
Police Chief L.T. Curtis and Norma Curtis—The cop and his wife were like family to Slade and his sister Shelley.
Dr. Fred Delaney—He’d been the Rawlins family doctor for years, but could he be trusted?
Carolyn Gray—The nurse was the only witness, and now she was missing.
Marcella Rawlins—Her murder had gone unsolved for twenty years—until her son stumbled across a letter.
Lorraine Vogel—The nurse knew where all the bodies were buried.
Jerry Dunn—The pharmacist was only doing what his father before him had done.
Acknowledgments:
Thanks to Randy Harrington, RPh, for his advice on hypnotic drugs; Marcia Proctor, CHt, RBT, for her technical input on hypnosis; Carmen R. Lassiter for her computer expertise and moral support; and as always the Bozeman Writers Group for keeping me honest.
Dedication:
With love and gratitude, this book is dedicated to Bill and Dorothy Heinlein. You are the in-laws I always dreamed of. Thank you for taking me into your wonderful family, for making me feel so welcome and for raising such a great son.
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
Epilogue
Prologue
Halloween
The pain. It dragged her up from the feverish blackness, doubling her over in a scream of anguish. Her eyelids fluttered, a flickering screen of light and dark. Three shadows moved at the end of the bed, silhouetted against a shaft of blinding light. They wavered in a whisper of dark clothing and low voices, hovering at her feet, waiting.
“Help me,” she tried to say, but her mouth was cotton, her words lost in their whispers.
The shadows moved, blocking the blinding light. She blinked, focused. A scream tore from her throat as she saw them, really saw them. Her eyes locked open, her heart clamoring in her chest at the sight of their grotesque faces as they huddled around her. The three made no move to stop her from screaming and she knew from some place deep inside her that she couldn’t be heard outside this room or they would have.
She tried to get up. Another pain shot through her. She pushed herself up on her elbows, suddenly light-headed and sick to her stomach. She could feel the agony again, coming like a speeding train toward her. She had to get away before it was too late.
One of them stepped from the bright light, face hidden behind a hideous mask, voice muffled. “It will be over soon.”
Her eyes widened, blood thundered in her ears. She knew that voice! Oh, my God!
Hands held her down as the pain accelerated, the macabre shadows a frenzied flicker of movement and whispers, the horrible whispers, suddenly rising in alarm.
She tried to see what was wrong, but her view was blocked, the hands strong holding her down. She squeezed her eyes shut against the horrifying images, against the paralyzing fear and the unimaginable pain. Gasping for each breath, she fought not to scream, fought not to lose her mind. But she knew it was already too late. The moment she’d seen their masked faces, she’d known. The moment she’d heard the familiar voice. The monsters had come to take her baby.
