Claimed by Cammie Eicher Page A

standing by the front fender when he reached her. In her arms, she held some of the books Lillian loaned them.
    “I’m not going to run,” she said. “At least not until I get some food in me.”
    “I didn’t expect you to,” he lied.
    “Oh, yeah, you did,” she retorted with a quick grin. “Gentlemanly manners didn’t bring you around to this side.”
    She was right. He’d long ago given up the niceties of civilized society. And he hadn’t missed them until now.
    “Let’s go get a steak,” he said, taking the books from her. “The biggest one they have.”
    “You paying?” Chiana asked.
    Creed nodded.
    “Then maybe I will make it two.”

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Seven
     
     
    Caroline sat at the bedroom window, watching the dawn become daylight. She’d tried sleeping, but finally decided it was a lost cause. At least she didn’t have to work today and try to hide the effects of her sleeplessness with makeup.
    She had other ways to occupy her time.
    The programmed coffeemaker began its drip, drip, drip and filled the kitchen with the fragrant aroma. When the scent wafted down the hall and to the chair where Caroline rested, she padded to the kitchen and began her familiar morning ritual. Her favorite cup waited on the counter. She pulled the hazelnut creamer from the refrigerator and poured in a generous amount before opening two yellow packets of sweetener and dumping them in.
    She sat at the small drop-leaf table and opened the red journal in which she wrote every morning and every evening, a suggestion by a psychologist before she left the hospital. Caroline knew he’d meant it as a way for her to vent her feelings, and sometimes that was exactly what she used it for.
    Most times, though, she filled its pages with observations of the world around her and worlds unseen. She flipped to the entry she made after the odd incident in the diner parking lot. She’d done the right thing in making that call.
    She hoped.
    Sighing, she began to write on a blank page, capturing her dream before it slipped away entirely. She called it a dream although she knew what the agency psychologist would say, if she bothered to see him anymore. He’d say her memories were returning as she slept, and she should see him even more to talk about them.
    Caroline was tired of talking. After the agency finished debriefing her, she had spent a mandatory two weeks living where shrinks could watch everything she did and listen to everything she said. She’d managed to fool her keepers during the day, telling them what she thought they wanted to hear. But the nights…
    She buried her face in her hands. Time was supposed to heal things. Memories were supposed to fade.
    Last night, she’d heard the drums again, felt the beat run through her body, threw off the covers as her blood heated. She’d been back in Haiti under the sultry sun, partnering with Creed Davies as they chased a particularly wily demon.
    Her conscience was still clear then. She was tightly focused on a goal. Kill the demon, go home and collect a bonus for getting the job done fast. If she’d been Creed, nothing could have stopped her from doing her duty.
    But she wasn’t like him. She wasn’t able to turn her back on everyone and everything except what the agency wanted. When she’d seen that young mother encased in the aura of death, she’d let her sympathy rule.
    The sudden, loud burr of the phone dragged her back into the moment, back to the peaceful neighborhood where everyone knew her as a quiet, single woman who grew roses.
    “Hello?”
    “Miss Morton, this is Eastside Animal Clinic.”
    Caroline relaxed as she confirmed Beggar’s appointment for the next day. The shreds of the past slid away, replaced by the careful routine she’d established over the last three years. She started with a breakfast of one egg and an English muffin then hopped into the shower. She grabbed the list of errands off the refrigerator as she went out the door and followed