As the weeks passed with no new emails from MedicineMan, there was still no sign of her missing journals. She’d scoured the laptop, Rob’s computer, her desktop, and even Rob’s personal laptop to no avail. They weren’t on the shop computer, they weren’t in Dropbox. Wherever she put them, they were well hid. Either she kept the file in some place she had yet to discover, or she’d deleted it by mistake.

It didn’t seem plausible she’d stop journaling, but she finally had to let go of her need to find them. If she found them, she found them. It was consuming far too much of her energy.

Her pregnancy was four months along now, and while still on edge, MedicineMan’s absence allowed her to resume some semblance of a normal routine. She was in the dive shop one Saturday afternoon when the boat returned from a dive.

Don Kern was listed as one of the passengers.

Shit. She hadn’t checked the manifest.

When he spotted her he acted friendly but not creepy. Even better, he was holding a woman’s hand. “Laura, this is my girlfriend, Tammy.”

Whew. Apparently he’d found a happier hunting ground than the staff at Lemon Bay Dive. “Nice to meet you,” Laura said with a genuine smile as she shook hands with the woman. “I hope we see a lot of you around here.”

The woman beamed a radiant smile at Kern. “I hope so, too. This has been so much fun!”

Laura wasn’t allowed to lift tanks. She couldn’t dive. She couldn’t work on regulators because of the risk of exposure to cleaning chemicals.

She couldn’t do much, it felt like. In the office, she pulled her iPad from her purse. Rob and Steve both said she’d used it a lot…before. But she hadn’t found much use for it other than reading the older journal files Bill had loaded on it for her. She didn’t like browsing the Internet on it, no matter what Rob and Steve told her she’d done, because her laptop had a larger screen.

Sarah was in the middle of doing a replenishment order on the office computer and Laura didn’t want to make her move. She sat at the other desk and, with the iPad and its little portable Bluetooth keyboard, she started working on her novel after using Dropbox to download the latest backup copy.

Sarah stepped out of the office to check inventory levels on a couple of things for the order.

Laura needed to look something up on the Internet, but still didn’t want to disturb Sarah’s order. She clicked on the pull-down of sites to find a quick link for Google and saw a list of other frequently visited websites.

She froze as she studied it. One of the listed links was a site called www.classfriends.link.

Why does that sound familiar?

She closed her eyes, feeling dizzy, and grabbed at the edge of the desk to steady her. This was maybe the second time she used the Internet on the iPad since the attack.

Since before.

She figured out how to access the browser history. Sure enough, the last time she’d accessed that site was the day before the attack.

Then she accidentally hit the Home button and the main screen appeared. One of those hunches hit her, the kind that recent experience told her was maybe more of a memory than a hunch. She swiped through the menu screens until she found what she was looking for.

An icon for the Evernote app.

With trembling fingers, she tapped it.

No wonder she’d never found the journals. She didn’t find her journals on the computers because they weren’t on the computers—they were stored here, on her iPad, via Evernote. She could have accessed them from anywhere if she’d had it installed on the other computers.

She closed her eyes and swore. The Evernote app had been on her phone, and early on she’d had Bill delete it and anything else she wasn’t sure how to use.

Fuck. All this time there they were, waiting for her to find them.

She immediately exported everything into a document and sent it to her iPad so she could read it. She scanned ahead to the days before the attack, and other than a notation about signing up for the Classfriends site, there was nothing that would help.

Tear stung her eyes. She had been so sure, so certain that she’d find the answer there. Still nothing.

The final entry was at 1:14 p.m. the afternoon of the attack.


Doogie’s getting snipped. I get to bring him home tomorrow morning. Poor guy, but he needs it. We should be getting our wedding invitations from the printer any day now. I can’t wait! This is really happening. I’ve met Prince Charming. Well, my handsome Sir.

He’s not an ugly toad, either.

I think I’m looking forward to the collaring even more than I am our wedding. And it’s pointless to stay in the condo. I want to start moving all my stuff to the house. I’m going to surprise him with the news this weekend, over a candlelight dinner. I’ve got it all planned…


The memory returned. Not of the attack, but of writing that entry. How happy she’d been, making her shopping list, even the music she wanted to play on the stereo. Remembering how deeply in love she felt that afternoon.

And upset that, after all these months, there were still no more answers.

Steve entered the office and found Laura sobbing over the iPad. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

She pointed to the device. “I found the missing journals. They don’t tell me shit.”

He turned her chair to face him. “Sweetheart, you knew it might not give you any information.”

“I was so sure it would.” Steve held her, let her cry against him. Sarah heard the commotion and walked in, closed the office door behind her, and sat with them.

“What’s wrong?”

Steve told her. “Did it trigger any memories?” Sarah asked.

Laura finally sat up and shook her head. “Not of the attack. I thought it would. I thought for sure it would answer everything and I would know who did this to me.”

The weather radio alarm sounded, blasting its warning tone and startling them, announcing a marine thunderstorm warning.

“Looks like the boat returned just in time,” Steve said. “We’ll have to cancel some charters this week if that latest tropical depression spins up our way.”

* * *

When Rob picked up Laura from the shop a little after four that afternoon, she told him what she’d found. He hugged her.

“It’s okay, baby girl. We’ll figure it out.”

He wouldn’t let her help with dinner, knowing she was emotionally worn out. She decided to explore the Classfriends site on her laptop. Maybe if nothing else she would remember something. The username and password combo was her usual, and she logged in. Her last recorded login date was the afternoon of the attack.

Nothing.

Something itched at her conscious, though. It was a feeling she hadn’t had in weeks, like a buried memory wanted to come through. But it didn’t feel like it was about the attack. And frankly, that’s all she cared about at the moment was remembering who did it to her.

Rob didn’t want to leave her, but he was scheduled to work a twelve-hour shift starting that evening. “I could call in or swap off.”

“No, don’t do that. I’ll be okay. Really.”

“You want me to call someone to come stay with you? Or I can take you over to Seth and Leah’s.”

She shook her head. “No. I’ll be okay. I’ll probably go to bed and watch TV until I fall asleep. You’ll be home tomorrow night, right?”

“Hopefully. Depends on this storm.” He stared at her. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m just…” She stared at the iPad, which she’d left on the coffee table. “I need to read through everything.”

He cradled her face in his hands. “We’ve talked about this. You knew it might not be a magic pill. And you’ve got so much back.”

“I know.” She let him pull her close, holding her tightly. She couldn’t take her eyes off the iPad. Somehow, she sensed it still might hold the answers.

If she could just figure it out.

* * *

Thomas called her cell phone that evening.

“Two calls in a week?” she quipped. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Are you at home?”

She didn’t like his terse tone. “Yeah?”

“Doors locked?”

“You’re freaking me out.”

“I’ve dispatched a deputy to your house. He’s already on the way.”

She shivered and walked to the living room where she closed the curtains. “What’s going on?”

“We discovered a woman’s body late this afternoon down in Placida. Not far from your shop.”

“What?” She gripped the phone tighter.

“She was strangled and beaten pretty badly.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

Laura knew. In her gut, she knew.

“Have you checked your email lately?”

She walked to the table where her laptop was set up and opened her email program.

Her blood chilled. Sure enough there was a message from MedicineMan.

Her spit dried up. “How did you know?” she hoarsely asked.

“He left a computer-printed note on the body. I can’t tell you what it said because of the investigation. What does his email say?”

Her hand trembled as she clicked on the message.


Sorry I’ve been too busy to pay you any attention lately. Storm’s around the corner, Laura. I’m ready to finish our business pretty soon. Here’s a preview of coming attractions. ;)


Attached was a picture of a woman’s body.

The face beaten beyond recognition.

She dropped the phone to the table and ran for the bathroom, barely making the toilet in time to puke her guts up. After she could walk, she drew the gun from her holster and returned to the living room. She heard Thomas screaming into the phone, and when she picked it up to talk to him, someone started pounding on her front door.

“I’m okay. I got sick. Sorry. There’s someone at the door.”

“Don’t open it. Ask who they are.”

She went to the front door. “Who is it?”

“Sheriff’s Department. Are you okay, ma’am?”

She spoke into the phone. “He says he’s a deputy.”

“Can you see out the door?”

“Peephole.”

“Ask for ID.”

“He’s in uniform.”

“Ask, dammit!”

She called through the door. “Det. Thomas told me to ask for ID.”

She watched as the deputy held up his ID to the peephole. In the driveway, she saw his marked cruiser. “He’s got ID. And he’s in a cruiser.”

“I don’t give a damn if he’s in Santa’s sleigh. Get his damn badge number.”

“What’s your badge number?”

The deputy read it to her, and a moment later, Thomas said, “He’s legit, let him in.”

She did. The deputy stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Ma’am, would you mind putting that away?” He pointed to the 9mm she still gripped at her side.

Still stunned, she looked at the gun as if she’d never seen it before and returned it to her holster.

“Laura, let me speak to him,” Thomas said.

She handed her phone to the deputy and tried to ignore the dangerous roll her stomach took. The deputy spoke to Thomas for a moment and turned to her. “Ma’am, where’s your computer?”

Laura pointed to the laptop. “The message is still up.” She walked into the bedroom so she couldn’t hear him read it to Thomas. A moment later the deputy knocked on her bedroom door and she emerged.

“Here’s your phone. They’ve already notified your husband. They’ve sent a car to pick him up from the firehouse.”

“What did the note on the woman’s body say?”

He shook his head. “You don’t want to know. I couldn’t tell you even if you did, because it’s evidence.”

Doogie quietly watched everything from the living room, and when she sat down on the couch he curled up next to her, his head in her lap. The deputy stood guard by the front door and twenty minutes later, another deputy brought Rob home.

He ran inside to her, hugged her. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I guess.”

Thomas wasn’t far behind. “Hutchins tracked the email already. It was sent locally.”

“What do you mean, locally?” Laura asked.

He looked at her. “The guy accessed the Internet through your shop’s wireless modem. His computer ID was fudged, but he apparently wanted us to know where he connected at. You don’t have it password protected, do you?”

She numbly shook her head. “I…I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

“Whoever he is, he’s local. And he was either in your shop or parked outside, close enough to grab a signal and send the email.”