The last time.
Or was the last time now?
Her stomach knotted and she clenched a fist against it in an attempt to ward off a rising tide of nausea. Surely she hadn’t just…
Fragmented scenes flashed across her mind—bits and pieces of her life that assured her she hadn’t imagined the passage of time. Her queasiness eased.
A nightmare, then.
She frowned, wincing as skin tightened over bone.
No nightmare. She felt too awful to be dreaming. Taking care to make no more sudden moves, she shifted her head and peered into the shadows, hoping she was wrong about the speaker’s identity.
“Can you stand a little light?”
No. She didn’t want to see, didn’t want to know who was there. Before she could protest she heard a click, and white pricked the darkness, illuminating the figure next to the bed. She squeezed her eyes shut as her suspicion was confirmed.
It was Luke.
A rush of longing, more potent than anything she’d allowed herself to feel in ages, clogged her throat. What was he doing here? No one had told her he’d returned to Colorado. But then, why should they? No one knew it mattered. No one—not even her family—knew what it had cost her to offer her ex-husband his freedom and then watch him walk out of her life. Without a single protest.
A familiar, aching hollow opened inside her, an emptiness more draining than whatever had landed her in this bed. Wearily she opened her eyes, knowing she had to say something. “What…happened?” Her tongue, suddenly three sizes too big for her mouth, stumbled awkwardly over the words.
“There was an accident.” He lifted the water container from the table beside the bed. “Would you like some water?”
She nodded, then regretted the movement as pain needled down her neck. What did he mean, “an accident”?
Before she could make sense of the statement, he’d slipped an arm beneath her shoulders for support and eased her higher, allowing access to the container’s plastic straw. She gulped greedily, trying to ignore the pressure of firm muscles at her back and his palm warm against her arm. When he finally drew away, it was like losing him all over again. Perilously close to tears, she said the first thing that came to mind. “I thought you were in Texas.”
Only when his expression tightened did she realize how accusatory she sounded. Helplessness enveloped her. Around Luke, it seemed she never said the right thing.
“I’ve had enough of Texas. Two years was all I could take.” He shrugged, the nonchalant gesture at odds with his bleak tone. “No Rocky Mountains.”
Two years? It seemed like yesterday. Through eyes barely open she studied his heavily shadowed jaw and uncompromising mouth. He hadn’t changed a bit. Except that now, instead of condemnation, she sensed a flicker of concern in his eyes. Tears prickled against her lids.
Too late. An eternity too late.
Two years ago she’d needed him. Not now. She concentrated on the throbbing in her head in an attempt to blot out the pain in her heart.
It hurt so bad.
When she raised a hand to her forehead, her fingers brushed a padding of gauze. “What—”
“Leave it alone,” Luke said. Laying a restraining hand on her arm, he reached across her to press the button on the bed’s control panel.
Although Cassie tried to summon resentment at the authority in his tone, her senses overrode her. His touch warmed her chilled skin. His familiar scent filled her nostrils, stirring old memories, old needs, old desires.
The hall door swung open.
“You’ve finally decided to rejoin us, have you?” said a cheery voice. The nurse touched Cassie’s wrist, checking for a pulse Cassie felt sure was elevated, then smoothed the bed-clothes. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been keelhauled.”
“That’s to be expected. How’s the head?”
“Sore. What happened?”
“You had an accident.” The nurse shot a glance at Luke. “Hasn’t Detective Slater—”
Confused, Cassie saw Luke shake his head, halting the nurse midsentence. A look of consternation crossed the woman’s face, but she recovered quickly. “You’ll be fine,” she assured Cassie with a comforting pat before leaving. “I’ll let the doctor know you’ve regained consciousness. He’ll want to see you right away.”
Cassie scarcely registered the nurse’s departure over the sound of blood rushing in her ears. Every instinct screamed they were hiding something—something worse than the car accident she’d imagined when Luke first spoke. But that was crazy. She wasn’t pregnant. Not this time. Dizzy with tension, she fumbled for alternatives. For an instant she envisioned herself paralyzed, but a quick test of her legs beneath the covers assured her everything was in working order.
The fact that she was relatively uninjured did little to stem her rising flood of panic. She hadn’t imagined the odd exchange between Luke and the nurse, so what else could it be?
A gruesome thought popped into her head. “Did someone die?”
Avoiding her eyes, Luke massaged the back of his neck in an all-too-familiar gesture of reluctance.
My God, that’s it. I’ve killed someone! Her breath caught in her lungs as she waited for the answer.
“Yes.”
She recoiled. Around the lump of horror forming in her throat, she managed to croak, “Who?”
Luke turned away, his voice muted. “Judge Wainright.”
Judge Wainright? Why would Judge Wainright be in her car?
Cord whispered across metal.
Cassie’s gaze leaped to where Luke stood at the window, pushing aside the curtains to look at the predawn sky. She stared in alarm at his slumped shoulders while faint impressions brushed her consciousness.
Rain.
Shifting shadows.
Darkness.
Abruptly, before she lost her nerve, she spoke. “I don’t remember the accident. Tell me.”
“No accident.” Luke let the curtain fall back into place. “Murder.”
Light flashed across her memory. Light and the sound of thunder.
A storm. Yes—a storm! She’d been on her way to interview Judge Wainright… She remembered rain splattering her face as she hurried from the parking lot into the building.
Into the building?
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Something about the building. She gripped the bedrail, struggling to remember.
Shifting shadows.
The taste of terror on her tongue.
A flash of light.
Her gaze leaped to the door of what she supposed was the bathroom, strangely unsettled by the darkness beyond. And like a rubber band stretched to the breaking point, the string of impressions snapped.
Shuddering, she released the railing and stared at her open hand, unsurprised to see the imprint of the metal bar on her palm. She rubbed at the ache and took a shaky breath. “It’s all a blank.”
Luke took forever to settle into the room’s only chair, an eternity of time during which her anxiety level went up several notches. His guarded expression,