attack in a residential neighborhood in broad daylight probably had made arrangements for an escape. Shore was likely already out of the area.
And planning round two.
“Any idea why Shore came after Willa earlier than intel had indicated?” Brandon asked.
“Our best guess is that he had her house under surveillance and saw Bo and you arrive. He probably thought he should go ahead while he still had her in his sights.”
That made sense, and it told him a lot about Shore. The man could and would improvise, and that made him even more dangerous.
“We’ve arranged a safe house for Willa,” Cash continued. “It’s local so you won’t have to be on the road too long with her. I guess it goes without saying that she’ll be in your protective custody.”
Yeah. Without saying. Brandon was too deep into this to turn back now.
“Sergeant Harris McCoy and I will be there in about a half hour, and we’ll take you to the safe house.” Cash paused. “We’d also like Willa to see a therapist who specializes in recovering lost memories.”
Brandon glanced at Willa. Even though she probably hadn’t heard what Cash had just said, she could no doubt sense Brandon’s own hesitation. He was hesitating not because he thought the therapist was a bad idea but because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to convince Willa to trust anyone associated with the police.
Including him.
“I’ll have to get back to you on that last part,” Brandon told Cash.
Willa’s left eyebrow lifted.
“Why?” Cash asked. “Have you talked her into cooperating yet?”
“No.”
“Try harder. Because we’ve just gotten an update on what could be our next hostage situation.”
“And?” Brandon asked when Cash didn’t continue.
“And the news isn’t good.”
Chapter Six
Two days.
The short timeline kept going through Willa’s head, stuck like a broken record, on the entire drive from Austin to the safe house. Two days.
Christmas.
That’s when SAPD thought there’d be another hostage situation at a hospital. Or at least that’s the information Sergeant Cash Newsome had relayed to Brandon while they were waiting in the break room at the Austin P.D. building. The authorities had two days to stop another nightmare from happening. But while the so-called intel had provided a time, SAPD didn’t have a location. Or a motive.
They were counting on Willa to help them.
“Good luck with that,” she said to herself. She huffed at that and the so-called safe house as it came into view.
Even if she could completely regain her memory before then, Willa wasn’t convinced she actually knew anything that would help.
Two days.
And God knew how many women and babies would have to go through the same kind of hell that she’d gone through for the past four months.
“You okay?” Brandon asked, bringing the car to a stop in the tiny garage of the safe house.
Willa considered lying but decided it was useless. “No.”
He matched her heavy sigh with one of his own and hit the button on the automatic garage opener. He waited until the garage door was completely shut before they got out of the nondescript dark blue car that SAPD had provided.
There was a single light on in the laundry room situated just off the garage entrance, but there was enough moonlight filtering through the windows that she didn’t have any trouble seeing.
Willa glanced around at the safe house. Well, what there was of it anyway.
It was small, much like her rental place that Shore had blown up on the other side of town. Except this place wasn’t in the suburbs. It was in the country, halfway between San Antonio and Austin, and to get to it they’d used a rural road. Their nearest neighbor was more than a mile away.
She walked through the house, taking inventory. Two sparsely decorated bedrooms, one bath and a living-dining-kitchen combo. Though Brandon and she had already eaten dinner at police headquarters, the fridge had been stocked with plastic-wrapped
And planning round two.
“Any idea why Shore came after Willa earlier than intel had indicated?” Brandon asked.
“Our best guess is that he had her house under surveillance and saw Bo and you arrive. He probably thought he should go ahead while he still had her in his sights.”
That made sense, and it told him a lot about Shore. The man could and would improvise, and that made him even more dangerous.
“We’ve arranged a safe house for Willa,” Cash continued. “It’s local so you won’t have to be on the road too long with her. I guess it goes without saying that she’ll be in your protective custody.”
Yeah. Without saying. Brandon was too deep into this to turn back now.
“Sergeant Harris McCoy and I will be there in about a half hour, and we’ll take you to the safe house.” Cash paused. “We’d also like Willa to see a therapist who specializes in recovering lost memories.”
Brandon glanced at Willa. Even though she probably hadn’t heard what Cash had just said, she could no doubt sense Brandon’s own hesitation. He was hesitating not because he thought the therapist was a bad idea but because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to convince Willa to trust anyone associated with the police.
Including him.
“I’ll have to get back to you on that last part,” Brandon told Cash.
Willa’s left eyebrow lifted.
“Why?” Cash asked. “Have you talked her into cooperating yet?”
“No.”
“Try harder. Because we’ve just gotten an update on what could be our next hostage situation.”
“And?” Brandon asked when Cash didn’t continue.
“And the news isn’t good.”
Chapter Six
Two days.
The short timeline kept going through Willa’s head, stuck like a broken record, on the entire drive from Austin to the safe house. Two days.
Christmas.
That’s when SAPD thought there’d be another hostage situation at a hospital. Or at least that’s the information Sergeant Cash Newsome had relayed to Brandon while they were waiting in the break room at the Austin P.D. building. The authorities had two days to stop another nightmare from happening. But while the so-called intel had provided a time, SAPD didn’t have a location. Or a motive.
They were counting on Willa to help them.
“Good luck with that,” she said to herself. She huffed at that and the so-called safe house as it came into view.
Even if she could completely regain her memory before then, Willa wasn’t convinced she actually knew anything that would help.
Two days.
And God knew how many women and babies would have to go through the same kind of hell that she’d gone through for the past four months.
“You okay?” Brandon asked, bringing the car to a stop in the tiny garage of the safe house.
Willa considered lying but decided it was useless. “No.”
He matched her heavy sigh with one of his own and hit the button on the automatic garage opener. He waited until the garage door was completely shut before they got out of the nondescript dark blue car that SAPD had provided.
There was a single light on in the laundry room situated just off the garage entrance, but there was enough moonlight filtering through the windows that she didn’t have any trouble seeing.
Willa glanced around at the safe house. Well, what there was of it anyway.
It was small, much like her rental place that Shore had blown up on the other side of town. Except this place wasn’t in the suburbs. It was in the country, halfway between San Antonio and Austin, and to get to it they’d used a rural road. Their nearest neighbor was more than a mile away.
She walked through the house, taking inventory. Two sparsely decorated bedrooms, one bath and a living-dining-kitchen combo. Though Brandon and she had already eaten dinner at police headquarters, the fridge had been stocked with plastic-wrapped
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