Page 87 of His Forgotten Colton Fiancee

She pointed to the faces creating the collage on the poster board. West’s blood ran cold.

Each photo bore a strong resemblance to the same identifying characteristics as the man Quinn had described to the police sketchartist. All were scowling, angry. The therapist encouraged her to create a board linking her to the past.

Maybe Quinn’s subconscious couldn’t erase the dark-haired man. Or he had a greater significance, one she couldn’t yet place.

“What do you remember of him? Close your eyes and tell me.”Don’t push her. Don’t scare her.

“Smoke, thick, gagging. Nasty look to him, as if he wanted tohurt people. He scared me a little. I...had to get to Tia.”

“Why? Why did he scare you, Quinn? What was he doing to Tia that made you open that door to go inside, instead of turning and calling the police?”

“I—I don’t know!”

Scraps of paper littered the table. A small frown dented her brow as she opened her eyes. “West, what’s wrong with me? Will I ever get my life together?”

The whispered plea tore at him. “It will take time. You have to believe your memory will return, honey.”

The frown deepened. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t stress about it.”

“No. I mean, I didn’t know.” She pointed to the photos on the board. “I remember thinking that I’d seen him before, but couldn’t recall where. And then I opened the door andpow!”

West considered himself a good judgeof character. He’d undergone behavioral analysis training at Quantico, knew how to watch a subject to see if the pulse jumped, the eyes darted, or stiffened, rubbed his eyes or nose.

He knew Quinn, at least he thought he did. Guile wasn’t in Quinn’s personality. She embraced honesty and directness.

“Quinn, do you know where Demi is? Have you been helping her hide?”

Her eyes widened.“No. I—I don’t think so. How could you even ask me that?”

“Because you said you wished to get closer to her. If she asked you to help her, would you? Or turn her over to the police?”

Quinn’s mouth wobbled precariously. “Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done before, West. Maybe. I don’t know how her jacket got in the cabin. All I know is I remember wanting to get closer to her,and failing. So what does that make me? A suspect?”

West’s heart jumped as his pragmatic side reeled in emotions. “I don’t know. That would be determined after you recover your memory.”

A wry smile touched her lips. “Sounds like a good reason not to fully recover.” Quinn sighed. “But I’ll face whatever I must. I don’t care. I only want to get better, West.”

He had no more answers thanbefore.

A car lumbered up the roadway. Quinn frowned. “Does anyone know we’re here? Besides your friend?”

“Mike.” He felt his stomach lurch with hard anxiety. “Mike is my boss with the FBI.”

“Your boss. Mike is the one you were talking with in the hospital room when you thought I was asleep.”

Aw damn. West fisted his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me,West? What’s going on that you’re so secretive? I overheard you talking with someone named Mike about getting closer to me to find out what I know about my sister’s disappearance.”

Stomach knotting, he waited for her to finish. That damn phone call in the hospital...

Quinn dropped the scissors. “Did Mike tell you to check on me? Instruct you to get close, try to get information on my sister?”

Maybe it was time he leveled with her. Hell, a little, anyway. “Mike authorized my being on loan to the RRPD.”

“You said something about waiting for me to wake up and remember where Demi was.” She came closer, until she could see the darkness in his eyes. “I kept drifting in and out of sleep, but I know you didn’t intend for me to overhear that conversation.”