had a sister. Her name was Beth.” His voice dropped when he said her name. Almost as if he couldn’t speak the name out loud. Joss tensed. Whatever he was about to tell her pained him a great deal.
“She was my little sister, two years younger than me. She was beautiful and bright. Long dark hair...like yours. Only, hers was curly like mine.” A smile flashed across his lips. Gone in a moment. “She followed me everywhere...even in high school. That’s why I should have seen it. I should have realized.”
He shook his head. The pain in his expression went so deep, it hurt to see it. Reaching out, she grasped his hand. His touch was familiar. It had been like an anchor these past few days, keeping her from flying into empty space, from losing herself in darkness. She hoped she could do the same for him.
“Don’t. Don’t say more. I’m sorry I asked.”
He shook his head and gripped her hand, met her gaze. “It’s important, Joss. I want you to know.”
There was more...so much more behind the words. Something he wasn’t saying. But his hand was warm and strong. She wanted to bring it to her lips and kiss it, to thank him for trusting her.
But that would make him uncomfortable. Her emotions were too strong and overwhelming for the casual relationship he’d described. He’d told her they were friends. They clicked and worked well together. His words exactly. But Joss had the feeling “clicked” had meant a lot more to her, something Dylan didn’t want to acknowledge or discuss. Every time she’d tried to express her gratitude, to explain the unusual bond she felt with him, he grew uncomfortable and changed the subject. So she held her feelings and the words back.
“All right.” If she couldn’t comfort him in the way she wanted to, she could at least give him permission to share his heartache. “Tell me.”
He swallowed. “I went off to college and left Beth behind. Two years later she was dead from an overdose. She was seventeen.”
Joss was silent for a long while, as she searched for words. “I’m sorry. So sorry. But it wasn’t your fault...you were young.”
He gripped her hand with both of his and looked deep into her eyes. “But that’s the problem, Joss. It was my fault. I could have stopped it. She had a crush on my best friend, Rusty. He got her involved in the drug scene. I knew he was hooked on painkillers long before Beth started hanging out with him. I turned a blind eye to his usage, Joss. I covered up for him. I could have told his parents...told mine. They would never have trusted him with Beth. But they knew he was my best friend, thought he’d never let anything happen to her...”
His words trailed off into excruciating silence. Anger twisted his features. Anger and frustration...pain so strong, Joss could barely stand it.
She didn’t know what to say, didn’t understand the significance of why it was important for her to know. She only understood how it had impacted his life. “That’s why you say your work is a God-given mission.”
He nodded, never loosening his grip on her hand. “I stood over her coffin, stared at her emaciated body—I barely recognized my beautiful, vibrant little sister. My parents told me she was having problems. They thought it was an eating disorder, maybe depression. They didn’t suspect drugs and I didn’t want to believe Rusty would betray me like that...not until the evidence lay in front of me. I promised God right there and then that I would devote my life to stopping drug traffickers.”
She gripped his hand. “You’ve done it, Dylan. Holmquist tells me you have one of the best records of success in the DEA. That’s why they sent you here. You can be at ease. You’ve honored your promise.”
“More than a promise, Joss. A vow, and it was my duty.” He lifted her hand, squeezing tighter. “My sister died because I covered for my friend Rusty. I was responsible.”
His intense gaze made her uncomfortable. “What are you trying to tell me, Dylan? Is there something I should know?”
The tension in his body eased and he released her hand. “No. No. I’m just... I don’t talk about Beth much. Not ever, really. I guess I got carried away.”
She smiled. “Thank you...for sharing. It means a lot to me.”
He looked away and shifted. “You need to stop thanking me so much. I’m only doing what needs to be done. And besides.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “We don’t usually talk about serious stuff. I call you ‘hot shot.’ You call me ‘special.’ We argue over football teams. Mine, of course, is better.”
So they did share football! She’d gotten something right. They also had common beliefs, as well as faith and confidence in the justice system. Maybe Dr. Hull knew what he was talking about. All she needed to do was to concentrate on what she did know. That was easier to do around Dylan, because for her, he was special.
Swallowing her fear, she said, “Which is my team?”
A sly twist slipped over his lips. “Well...how will you know I’m telling the truth? Maybe I’ll make you a Wildcat so when your memory comes back, you’ll remember the Sun Devils and know I got you.”
The attempted joke didn’t work, mainly because it reminded her that she might not ever remember. That made her future a big black hole, just like her past. She turned to him, all humor gone. “I trust you. You’re the only one I can trust right now.”
The wry twist faded and he looked away. “You know, I’m going to try to catch Holmquist before he leaves.”
The door closed behind him and the room seemed empty. In spite of what he had said, her release from the hospital was going to be a tactical nightmare. The city police would have to schedule someone to watch over her 24/7. Maybe her friends—the friends she couldn’t remember—would have to volunteer their time to guard her. The extra expense and stress would be ridiculous. Who would pay for it? How long could it last?
And...those men were still out there...trying to kill her. Why? Was that the terrible thing she needed to prevent? Her own murder? That was a horrifying thought.
She was letting the deep dark holes overwhelm her again. She tried to slow the raging questions exploding in her mind.
If Dylan would just come back. He was so strong and vital. His presence filled a room...drove out the dark holes. She could wrap his vitality around her like a warm, safe blanket and she needed that...needed something or she might tip over the edge.
As if on cue, the door opened and he returned. A slight smile tilted his lips. “Holmquist is staying. He wants to be here when you check out.” He seemed relieved.
She said nothing. Her supervisor’s concern was nice but she really wanted Dylan there. “You’re coming with me, right?”
“Of course. Wouldn’t miss your return home.”
An undertone of intensity laced his lightly stated words and gave her pause. “Why?”
He frowned. “Because we need to answer the all-important question. Do you throw clothes in a corner or hang them neatly in the closet?”
Caught off guard, she let another small chortle slip out. “Owww. I told you not to make me laugh.”
“Can’t help it. I’m dying to find out your dark secrets.” His words held an undertone of...something. A sincerity that took her by surprise. She stared at him.
He lifted his gaze upward, clearly striving for a deep-in-thought expression “I’m pretty sure you are a ‘hang it very neatly’ type.”
He meant to make her laugh, but she sensed something behind his words. What was it? Was she an unpleasant, uptight woman he didn’t like?
“You make me sound like a prude. Am I?”
He stopped to consider. “No. Thorough. By the book. Sincere. Passionate about your work. But easy to be around. Energetic and full of questions. Fun. You’re surrounded by friends all of the time. You told me once you don’t