Page 32 of Montana Freedom

But right now? At that moment? I couldn’t worry about it.

Agents Phillips and Jones were flanking the door. Jones reached out and pounded on it three times. The booming sound echoed through the trees.

“FBI. Open the door.”

If therewereany of Simon’s men in the area, which I thankfully doubted, they would easily hear that.

A few seconds later, Emma opened the door. She was pale and shaking, a bowl of food still in her hand. Her eyes locked on me first. “Daniel?”

“It’s going to be okay,” I told her. “I didn’t have a choice, but things are fine.”

“Step inside,” Agent Phillips said.

She did as she was told. Clearly, since two men had guns trained on her. Even when she was nearly dying from infection, she hadn’t been this pale.

I followed them inside despite the glares Agent Phillips was sending my way. And then he wasn’t looking at me at all. He wasn’t looking at Emma either.

All three of us were looking at the centerpiece of the cabin—two walls covered with nearly blank pieces of paper, and a spiderweb of fishing line.

What the hell?

They holstered their weapons. “This wasn’t what we were expecting.”

To Emma’s credit, she was standing despite her fear. “What were you expecting? To come in and find me planning something? Or hiding someone you’re looking for?”

“Are you?”

“No.” She gestured to the wall. “If I’d figured it out already, then I would have come to the police or to you guys. Whoever would have believed me first. But I can’t put all the pieces together, so I’m still just sitting here staring at everything.”

Agent Jones cleared his throat. “At a wall of blank paper?”

She waved a hand. “I have perfect recall. They’re not blank to me. It just helps to have a specific ‘space’ to put things so I can see it all laid out in my head instead of all the information piled on top of each other.”

“Okay.” He sounded skeptical, and I understood.

This looked…well, I didn’t like to use the word crazy, but it looked crazy. All the inconsistencies in her stories, the things she hid. Was it possible there were deeper issues here?

Unfortunately, yes. It was very possible. Especially for someone with the kind of PTSD Emma was carrying.

“Your name is Emma Derine?” Agent Phillips asked. His tone had barely softened despite it being clear that Emma was no threat.

Her face flushed, and she looked at me before looking at the floor. “Yes.”

Part of me sank. I hadn’t realized I’d hoped it wasn’t true. She’d lied about her connection to him. Now seeing these walls, how much of what she’d said to me so far was even factual?

I hated questioning her, and I wanted to believe her. But now…

Shoving the questions and doubts in my head aside, I focused on the moment. I could deal with my own feelings later. Emma still needed me now, and no matter how I felt, I wasn’t letting either special agent bulldoze her into something she didn’t want.

“Do you know where your father is?”

Once again, she gestured to the wall. “I just told you I’ve been trying to figure it out.” Her voice held a tremble I now recognized. She was terrified. Not nervous in the way she’d been with Charlie and admitting to breaking in to the grocery store. This was terror about the man who wanted to take her life. “I have no idea. I wish I did.”

Emma sat down on the couch, and both men moved out of instinct, circling to make sure they could still see her whole body.

“We need you to tell us everything you know about Simon and his organization. If you have the memory you say you do, it could help.”

She stiffened. “I said I would do it when I was ready. Isn’t that enough?”

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