Page 33 of His Forgotten Colton Fiancee
Of someone’s life that had been snuffed out by a killer.
And she’d survived that.
I don’t know anything about my life, who I really am and who I can trust. How can I trust this West, who’s supposed to be my future husband, when he’s talking about me as if I’m under investigation?
She turned off the television and reached for the cell phone Austin hadbrought her. Scrolling through the contacts, none of the names looked familiar.
Maybe they were clients. Or friends. She had no clue. Quinn swiped through the photos, hoping it would trigger something.
Many photos of herself with West. One at a fancy dinner, with candlelight, both of them smiling at the camera. One of them at an outdoor bazaar. A few more of West, his shy grin, as he rodea horse.
So, they’d been horseback riding. She must have enjoyed that. And shopping and eating dinner with him. The photos proved they shared a life or at least spent significant time together.
If so, why was he checking on her as if she’d done something wrong?
Quinn took her notebook and wrote down questions. Demi seemed to be the common factor in everything that happened, even theloss of business for the catering company.
The pen paused in midscribble.What if Demi is the person who blew up the real estate office?What if she wants to hurt me?
Having a sister who was on the run, suspected of killing grooms, did not endear her to Quinn. Having no memory of her felt worse, because she had no basis to make her own judgment of Demi, only what others told her.
She studied the other notes she’d made about family. Seemed as if she had a slew of Colton cousins, from the police chief, Finn Colton, to his kid sister, Valeria. Yesterday in ICU Finn had told her Valeria wanted to visit, and might be by today or tomorrow.
Valeria must be a cousin she liked, Quinn decided.
In the contacts section, she found Valeria’s number and went to dial. Hesitated.Best to leave that conversation in person, so she could judge facial expressions.
With the information Austin had relayed, she realized it wasn’t a simple matter of losing her memory.
She’d lost her memory in a town where a serial killer roamed, and was now setting off bombs.
The door to her room remained open after Austin left. There was a slight knock, and then a good-looking blondman in a charcoal-gray business suit walked inside. Clutching a vase of roses, he looked sleek and professional.
Tucking the phone beneath the sheet, she studied the visitor. “Hi.”
“Hi, Quinn. I’m Noel Larson.” At her look, Larson added, “Your landlord.”
Well, this was news. Quinn sat up, wishing her hair wasn’t mussed and her brain all scrambled.
“Came to collect on the rent?”Quinn gestured to the lines feeding out of the IV port in her hand. “I’m a little unable to sign a check now.”
“No problem.” He set the flowers on her nightstand. The fragrance was lovely, but overwhelming. “I know you’re good for it. Eventually.”
Noel Larson. The name was unfamiliar. Still, a tingle rushed down her spine.
Don’t trust this one.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
The smile on his handsome face seemed false. “Visiting to see how you are. It was a bad explosion and I was concerned.”
Right. I may not remember much, but I know enough to trust sincerity. You’re as sincere as that politician on television. Except you’re more dangerous.
If she reached for the phone, he’d get suspicious. Instead, she kept the nurse call button within reach. The nurses onthis floor responded quickly.
“They say you don’t remember anything about what happened.”
Quinn found herself fascinated by his hands. Elegant fingers, polished nails and smooth hands, as if he held a desk job. Not like her brothers or West, who worked in the field.
