Page 94 of Unforgotten

She didn’t, but ... “Of course I remember,” she lied.

He clenched his jaw. Then pulled out a knife. “You’re lying to me, Candace,” he said calmly but coldly. “You’re pretending that you remember our conversation, but you don’t. I meant nothing to you.”

She started shaking. Scott was staring at her, obviously needing her to tell him something, anything about whatever moment he was referring to, but she had no idea what it was.

“I thought you were nice. I thought, all this time, if you and I got alone, you’d love me too. But that’s never going to happen, is it?”

She had to bide her time. Had to keep him talking. Say anything to keep him from hurting her. “We can get to know each other now,” she said softly.

“You’re lying to me.” The pain in his eyes was so fierce that it hurt to look at him.

Then she couldn’t, because he knelt down, gripped her chin with one hand, and then attacked her with his knife. She cried out as the blade slashed her cheek and bare arm.

Despair hit her hard. Things were going to get much worse, and she had no way to stop him.

She was going to die.

31

Ryan had spent his entire career completely focused on whatever job was at hand. He’d been proud of the way he could block out any problems he was having in his personal life. Actually, he was a pro at blocking out just about anything that wasn’t directly related to the task at hand. He could ignore concerns about his health, his finances, his partner—everything could be conveniently packaged away while he gave whatever crisis he was involved in his entire attention.

He’d always thought that was a good thing. That he had a gift other officers didn’t. And until this moment, he’d also naively imagined that he had a talent for the job. That God had meant for him to be a cop.

Now Ryan realized that he’d never been completely challenged. As he waited in position, listening for the signal, he realized his heart had never been involved before. No, he’d never known Candace before.

Forcing himself to remain still and not triple-check his weapon, his radio, or his surroundings, Ryan asked the Lord to be with him. Asked for His strength and His wisdom. Gave thanks that Bethanne had made it to safety and wasessentially unhurt. Then he asked for God to place His protective hand over Candace and give her hope.

Most of all, he asked the Lord to help him accept His will. He needed to believe that the Lord was there with him. Otherwise, it was too much pressure. Too much of his life at risk. If he failed Candace today, he’d never recover. “I can’t do this on my own,” he whispered.

“Everyone’s in position.” The chief’s low, steady voice came through the radio attached to Ryan’s vest. “We’ll go in on the count of three.”

No one replied. There was no need. He could feel his fellow officers’ bodies tense as they waited for the count.

“One. Two. Three.”

Sheriff Johnson shot the lock, took two steps forward, and kicked open the door. Deputy Ernst and Ryan followed him in.

“Drop your weapon, Scott!” the sheriff ordered.

Scott barely spared any of them a glance. He was fixated on Candace. “You’re ruined,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re going to have to go away now.”

She flinched.

The scene would no doubt be Ryan’s worst nightmare for the rest of his life. Candace was propped against the weather-beaten wall of the shack with her ankles and wrists bound. Her hair was matted, her jeans and T-shirt were dirty, and her feet were bare. With tear tracks running through dirt and blood on her face, she looked petrified.

Blood! Scott had cut her face. And her arm.

That gutted him.

But almost worse was the look of resignation in Candace’s eyes.

She’d almost given up hope.

Maybe she already had?

His beautiful, vibrant, caring Candace had had her light taken out. Scott Conway had not only hurt Candace’s body, he’d hurt her whole being.

Pain washed over him. Why had he not been able to find her sooner?

---