Sudden Recall. Lisa Phillips

airport. But that didn’t mean he was willing to risk not being around if she needed him.

      * * *

      Sienna knelt and pulled the shoebox from under the bed. Outside, she heard Parker’s truck start and the engine rev as he drove away.

      A cold settled in her stomach as she realized she was here without him. Some part of her seemed to recognize him, as much as she didn’t want that to be the case. The last thing she needed was a man she had no memory of expecting her to say a particular thing or act a particular way.

      That kind of pressure—wondering if she was still the woman he’d known and who that was—would drive her crazy. Sienna felt crazed enough already. The CIA? It was enough to send her running out the door. With no memory, she was more than in over her head; she was drowning. Those men had tried to kidnap her, and she’d had no way to fight them off beyond the basic self-defense techniques she’d learned at the gym.

      Sienna removed the rubber bands that secured the box and sat back on her heels. She flipped the lid onto the floor to reveal the contents.

      A collection of photos with curled edges had been fastened with a rusty paper clip. The one on top was a country house and barn. Underneath the stack was an old movie ticket stub, two postcards from European cities that were blank on the back and enough space for the Bible Sienna had removed when she’d woken from her coma.

      Nothing new. Nothing that made her remember what she was supposed to be doing. Or anything about who she was.

      Did Nina really think Sienna hadn’t looked in the shoebox before? And what in here made Nina believe Sienna would leave her aunt?

      The Bible had been a solace to her in the months she’d tried to get her memory back. Sienna had scoured its pages, reading and rereading passages she had highlighted in her forgotten past. Notes she had made in the margins where it had spoken to her in one way or another. But none of that meant anything to her now—she had no frame of reference for it. She had read it as though for the very first time, soaked up the hope and peace found in those pages when so much of her life was upside down.

      Sienna flicked through the photos, but there wasn’t anything tucked between them. She only saw images of people she didn’t recognize in places she’d never been.

      With a cry of frustration she dumped the shoebox over. She wanted to smash the thing, but then she’d have nowhere to store the secret treasures of a woman who didn’t exist anymore. Maybe she never would.

      On an exhale, Sienna righted the box and restowed the items. When it was secure, with the rubber bands replaced, she went to the closet and tucked it in her duffel. Who knew what the night would bring? If she had to run, she wanted the hidden things with her.

      Sienna glanced at her closed bedroom door. Did she want to face her aunt? Karen was keeping secrets from her. Why else would she have asked Sienna if she had killed her attackers? Now Sienna knew why her aunt had thought that. But was it real? Was she a killer?

      She got ready for bed. She was done with this awful day where her life had upended. With a sigh, she closed the bathroom door and went to the window. The night outside was dark, but the only light came from the living room to her right. Sienna had turned off her lamp so she could better see the stars, but it was cloudy. Not a night to dwell on the magnitude of things around her.

      The backyard was an expanse of damp grass from the rains they’d had the past week, but was now twice as green. Bad with the good, just like everything in her life.

      The trees swayed in the breeze, though her barn was silent. The animals were fine.

      The quiet just reminded her that no one needed her. At least, not until she recalled whatever it was she’d forgotten. Then maybe everyone would stop giving her indecipherable looks or walking on eggshells as they bypassed her to get on with their important lives.

      A flash of motion by the barn.

      She’d painted it herself, because every barn should be red. Plain wood was a travesty. Probably just a small animal foraging.

      It moved again. Bigger than a critter. The size of a grown man.