Elena delayed putting her fingers on the keyboard by reaching over to trim dead leaves from the philodendron on the table.
“Quit fooling with the plant. Let’s check it out.”
Elena rubbed the dirt from her hands onto her jeans and put her hands on the keyboard, but she wanted to jump and run. She launched the browser and went to Google. She typed in geocaching serial killer. Her fingers hovered over the keys. If she was connected with this in some way, maybe it would show up. She added the keywords missing woman and hit the enter key.
A flurry of listings appeared. The very first one screamed out at her: MISSING WOMAN FEARED DEAD AT HANDS OF SERIAL KILLER.
Bree gasped beside her and reached over to run the cursor over the link. “How smart to add the search words missing woman.” She clicked the link, and the news article appeared. She scrolled down and stopped when a picture of Elena and Terri smiling at each other rolled into view.
“It’s you. You and Terri,” Bree whispered. Leaning over Elena’s shoulder, she touched the screen. “I can’t believe it.”
“I can’t read it,” Elena whispered. She covered her face with her hands.
Bree pulled up a chair beside her and sat down. “I’ll read it.”
Elena had to face this—whatever it was. Terri’s life depended on it. She slowly put her hands down and forced herself to read.
Bree was already reading it aloud. “According to this, a serial killer, one who leaves his victims at geocaching sites, was thought to have attacked you and taken your body to dispose of. There’s a statewide search going on for you,” Bree said, still reading. “Your name is Eve Andreakos, not Elena Cox.” She frowned. “And even Terri’s name is Keri, not what we thought.”
“She doesn’t say K very well,” Elena said. No, not Elena. Eve. She tried on the new name and found it felt oddly familiar. “I was attacked by a serial killer, not . . . not an abusive husband?”
Bree looked up, and their gazes locked. “I’d thought that, too, that maybe you were the victim of domestic violence.” She turned her attention back to the screen. “You were married to a Nikos Andreakos, a state cop. You’re divorced.”
Nikos Andreakos. That name meant nothing. Eve began to read again. “He’s been investigating this serial killer, Gideon.” The name on her lips felt vile. “Gideon.” She jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair in the process. Stumbling back, she clutched her arms around herself.
Bree followed and grabbed her hand. “It’s okay, Ele—I mean Eve. We’re here for you. We need to let your family know you’re alive. The state police will protect you.”
“They didn’t protect me in the first place.”
“They know he’s after you now. Do the names trigger anything? Anything at all?” Bree asked.
Eve shook her head. “Nothing.” She had to think this through. Figure out what to do, how to protect her daughter.
“Maybe it will come back now.”
Eve pulled her hand out of Bree’s grasp. “I want to see what else it says.” The computer screen called her back. Knowledge was power. Sitting back down in front of the computer, she read through the different articles.
“He’s killed at least three people,” she said. Then she gasped. “Look! This body they found right after I showed up here—they think it’s me! But they haven’t got an official identification yet. He puts clues from religious texts on the geocaching site. And mutilates the body in some way.” She clutched her stomach. “Before he kills them.”
“What a sick puppy,” Bree said.
“If only I could remember what he looks like,” Eve said, pressing her fingers against her temples. The more she fought against the suffocating blanket around her memories, the more her memories slipped away.
“Don’t try to think about it,” Bree advised. “You’ll just make yourself crazy. Let’s go see Doug and have him make a call to Nikos.”
“I don’t want to see this Nick person.” She felt nearly as panicked at the thought of this unknown ex-husband as she did about Gideon. There was something extremely disorienting about thinking of having shared a life—a bed—with a man she didn’t know anything about.
“You called him Nick,” Bree said. “Not Nikos. Are you remembering?”
Eve put her hand to her throat. “I think everyone calls him Nick.” She couldn’t explain how she knew this. “I want to see what he looks like.” She typed in Nikos Andreakos Michigan State Police and hit enter.
The first link was to the Michigan State Police site. She went there, but it didn’t have a picture, just a press release about Nick being appointed to oversee the special unit in charge of the Gideon investigation. The next few links were news articles. On the third try she hit the jackpot.
The page loaded, and a picture of several men in front of a courthouse popped up. Captain Nikos Andreakos was identified as the man in the middle.
“Hard to see him,” Bree observed.
The picture was fuzzy and only showed him from the side. Dark, curly hair was the only clearly distinguishing feature.
Eve felt something break inside. Her eyes burned as she stared at the man in the photo. Clasping her arms around herself, she began to weep, harsh sobs that seemed to erupt from someplace deep inside.
Bree embraced her. “Eve, what is it?”
“I don’t know,” Eve sobbed. Somehow she knew this man had broken her heart, and she wept from the pain of it even though she didn’t understand. How could something she didn’t remember hurt so much?
12
It was really too late to come calling, but Nick didn’t want to wait until morning. Though it was after ten, it looked like every light in the lighthouse shone out the windows. He parked his SUV in front and went up the steps to the front door. He could smell popcorn through the open window.
A pretty red-haired woman answered his knock. “Did you forget your key?” Her smile faded when she saw Nick. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were my husband.” She glanced at her watch.
“I know it’s late. My name is Andreakos, and—” Before he could tell her he was with the state police, she put her hand to her mouth and took a step back. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” But the color washed out of her cheeks, and she glanced behind her. “Wait here.” She shut the door in his face.
Nick stared at the wood three inches from his nose. He rapped again. “Mrs. Matthews?” What had just happened? She’d acted as though she knew his name. Doubling his fist, he pounded harder.
The door opened a crack. “I’m sorry,” the woman said. “Listen, could you come back in the morning? It’s really too late to deal with this tonight.” Her green eyes looked enormous in her pale face.
Deal with what? He hadn’t even told her what he wanted. “It’s crucial that I talk to you and Ms. Cox. Please, it will only take a moment. I’m with the state police. I don’t want to have to throw my weight around, but I can if I have to.”
Her gaze went over his shoulder, and he heard the crunch of gravel. “Listen, let me ask my husband what to do.”
Nick was ready to throw up his hands. What was the big deal? He turned to see a stocky man about his own age get out of a pickup. Dressed in a park service uniform, he nodded to Nick, then frowned when his wife rushed toward him.
“Bree, what’s wrong?” He shot a suspicious gaze toward Nick and gathered his wife close.
Nick couldn’t hear their whispered comments, though Bree’s agitation was clear. He stuck out his hand as the other man approached with his wife. “I’m with the Michigan State Police. I’m investigating the serial killer who calls himself Gideon.” Nick shook his hand. “Who are you?”
“I’m Kade Matthews. Bree’s husband.”
“I’d like to interview her and your guest, Elena Cox.”
“Not until we talk.”
Nick had had enough. “Look, I’ve told you I’m with the Michigan State Police. We can talk here or we can talk up at the sheriff’s of
fice. Those are your options. I’m trying to stop a killer.”
Kade studied his face and evidently found something he liked. “Elena is in a fragile state. I’m not sure letting you talk to her is a good idea. You know she was hurt when my wife found her?”
“I’ll take it easy with her.”
Kade looked away. “Um, Elena was walking along the side of the road just outside town. Bree stopped and picked her up. She had a head wound and a knife cut along her rib. She didn’t remember how she got there, who hurt her.”
Bree tugged on her husband’s arm. “Let’s sit down a minute. I don’t want her to overhear us.”
Nick followed them to the porch swing. The air smelled faintly of dew and some sweet flower. The light from the old-fashioned street lamp illuminated their corner.
Kade kept staring at him. Nick could almost sense a wave of hostility and suspicion from the other man surging again. “What?”
Bree glanced at his left hand. “You’re married.”
“I was. She—she was killed by the serial killer I’m tracking.” Nick was in no mood to talk about his marital status—or lack thereof. “My daughter is still missing.”
Bree put her hand over her mouth. Kade stood and paced the porch. Both of them sent off agitation in waves.
“I think we’d better let you talk to . . . um . . . Elena,” Bree finally said.
CAR LIGHTS SWEPT THE FRONT LAWN AND POKED through Eve’s bedroom window. A few minutes later, the murmur of voices floated up the stairs from the entry, and the front door opened and closed a few times.
“Elena, where are you?” Kade’s voice called from the entry.
Elena? Hadn’t Bree told him they’d figured out who she really was? Elena still sounded more familiar than Eve. “I’m up here,” she called. “Be right there.” She hauled herself up from the rocker by the window and went down to the living room, where she found Kade and Bree standing by the fireplace.
Kade’s blue eyes probed Eve’s face. “You okay?”
Eve nodded. “As okay as anyone is to discover a serial killer is after her. Did Bree tell you we know my name is Eve Andreakos?”
Kade nodded. “I know. It’s just . . .”
“What’s wrong?” Eve asked him.
Bree glanced at her husband, then back to Eve. She cleared her throat. “Um, there’s someone outside.”
Eve wasn’t sure how this pertained to her, but it obviously did.
“A Michigan State captain,” Bree went on. “Nick Andreakos.”
The name sank into her consciousness. She tried to wrap her mind around it. Nick. Here. She rose slowly. “He’s . . . in Rock Harbor? You didn’t tell him I was here, did you?” She darted a panicked glance toward the entry and moved toward the stairs.
Bree grabbed her arm. “He wants to help you, Eve. Why are you so afraid of him?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember.” The adrenaline pumping through Eve’s veins should have told her something, but she couldn’t grasp hold of it.
“Keri has been asking for her daddy,” Bree reminded her.
“I know.” She sagged against Bree. Even though she didn’t remember Nick, Keri did. And she missed him. Eve had no right to deprive her daughter of her daddy.
“I didn’t tell him who you were. He thinks you’re dead,” Kade said.
“Dead?” Eve needed to sit down. She sank into the couch.
Bree nodded. “He thinks Gideon killed you, just like the newspaper said.”
“And Keri? Where does he think she is? Dead too?” Just saying the words made Eve shudder.
“He said she’s still missing.” Bree touched her shoulder. “You okay?”
“No.” She wouldn’t be okay until this nightmare was over—if it ever was. “Don’t you think you’d better warn him?”
“I thought maybe getting his first reaction when he sees you might tell us if he had anything to do with the condition you were in when you got here,” Kade said.
Eve nodded. “Okay.” She was not ready for this.
“Let me get him.” Bree backed out toward the door.
Samson hunkered down and barked, then ran toward the door with his tail wagging hard enough to come off. Eve told herself the dog wouldn’t be so welcoming to someone who was a danger. Gracie licked her foot, and she scooped up the kitten for courage while she watched the door for her first glimpse of her husband.
Ex-husband, she reminded herself. He had no power over her.
Voices came her way. First just a murmur, then she could distinguish a deeper voice intermingled with Bree’s higher one. The timbre set the hair on the back of her neck to vibrating. She put her hand on her throat and watched for her first glimpse.
Heavy boots clomped along the wooden floor. Eve’s pulse rattled against her veins. If she were small enough to squeeze under the sofa, she would have crawled under it.
Two figures loomed in the opening from the hall. Eve’s gaze brushed Bree’s face, then moved to the figure behind her. The man behind Bree towered over her petite frame. He turned his head and glanced into the room. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
The color washed from Nick’s olive skin. No words came from his parted lips, just an intake of breath that left a question dangling in the air.
Eve’s gaze traced his features. His physical attractiveness made the room seem small. The picture online hadn’t captured the magnetism that radiated from his dark eyes. Broad shoulders, dark hair that curled a little at his neck, chiseled lips and bone structure. He could have posed as Adonis.
This man had lived with her in a home somewhere. They once had a life together. He had fathered her child. It was more than she could take in. All this history, and she didn’t have a clue how it had played out.
Eve found she was standing. His dark eyes swallowed her whole. The hunger that blazed in them changed to a fierce joy and passion. Before she could move or react, he was in front her. His hands came down on her shoulders. The heat of his fingers burned into her skin where he gripped her.
“Eve,” he whispered. “Eve, you’re alive.” His gaze roamed her face, then lingered on the scar on her temple. His hands moved up to cup her face. Then somehow her face was buried in his shirt that smelled like fabric softener and spicy cologne.
Had she ever felt this way before? Surely she had, but it felt like she’d never been embraced like this before, never inhaled the scent of strength that poured into her nose. Her bones seemed to melt into wax that left her clinging to his shirt.
She tried to resist the softness that swept over her. How could she feel this way when she didn’t remember him? Just when the embrace had gone on longer than she thought she could bear, he released her enough for her to push away from the suffocating folds of fabric.
“I thought you were dead.” Nick’s words came out in hoarse staccato. “We found bones. We called in a forensic sculptor. The re-creation looked just like you.”
His voice was deep, deeper than she’d thought it would be. It made the blood drop from her head to her feet. Any words she might say got stuck somewhere between her intentions and her tongue. All she could do was stare at him.
He stared back with a burning passion in his eyes. Had that been the problem? Maybe he’d been a possessive husband.
“Aren’t you going to say hello?” he prodded.
“I . . . I . . .” She swallowed and tried again. “You’re . . . Nick?”
He frowned. “What? Of course I’m Nick.” His gaze searched her face again. “You’re different somehow. What’s wrong, Eve?”
The disappointment in his voice wounded her. “I’m sorry.” She looked down at her hands. “I can’t remember anything. Until today, I didn’t even know my name. I thought it was Elena Cox.”
“You’re Elena? The Elena who found the body?”
She nodded and held up the ballet-slipper necklace that bore the name she’d adopted. “The name Elena is on the back.”
“Your old teacher,” he said. “S
he gave you that. You . . . you have amnesia?” He went even paler, if that was possible. “Is that why you let us all go on thinking you were dead for three months?”
She nodded. “I just found out today who I am.”
His head jerked around. “Keri? Where’s Keri?”
Eve tried to wrap her mind around all she’d discovered. “She’s upstairs.” She laid her hand on his arm and was surprised by the hard muscles under her fingers. “She’s fine.”
Nick closed his eyes. “Thank God, thank God,” he whispered. He opened his eyes and raked her face with his gaze again. “You look good, Eve.”
Eve could have said the same thing back to him if she’d had the nerve. Nick Andreakos had the kind of masculinity that would have made any woman take a second look. She was drawn to him even though she didn’t remember him.
Surely she must be some kind of wanton woman to desire a man she didn’t know.
She wet her lips, unable to muster a single comment.
“How did you survive Gideon’s attack?” He seemed to be drinking her in the way a man in the desert would gulp water.
“I don’t remember.” She wanted to step away from him, but her legs wouldn’t obey.
“I was so afraid.” His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists. “There was blood in the living room. All the furniture was messed up. When that skull turned up looking just like you, we were all sure . . .”
“What skull?”
“Animals got to the body, and all we found were scattered bones. I couldn’t wait for DNA identification to get back, so I had the re-creation done. It looked just like you. I was sure it was you. But all his victims have resembled one another. We still don’t have DNA back yet.”
She moved slightly away from him. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“I wonder if he found another victim when you escaped.”
She flinched. “I can’t remember anything,” she said again.
“Nothing?” The disappointment in his voice sharpened the word.