Free Redemption by Sharon Cullen

was that even though her memory stubbornly refused to reveal itself she was feeling better. Her elbow didn’t hurt as much and her bruises were fading.
    John ended his call and threw the phone on the seat between them. “That was Luke,” he said.
    “Yeah?” He’d told her he’d contacted his friend and Luke was searching the missing persons for her.
    “You want the good news or the bad?”
    “The bad.”
    “There’re no missing persons out on a woman of your description with the first name of Hope.”
    Her hands tightened in her lap. As it always did when her heart rate accelerated, her baby began to move. “Maybe we were wrong about my name.” She didn’t think so. Hope felt right.
    “No missing person of your description at all.” He glanced over at her. “You are a true blonde, right?”
    Her face heated and she stared out the window. “Yes.”
    “Thought so, but had to ask.”
    “What else? What about the car?” She didn’t want to think no one was looking for her. That she had no friends or family who missed her. What about a husband? Unless… She closed her eyes in despair. Unless the murdered man had been her husband.
    “That’s the good news,” John said. “The car hasn’t been reported as stolen. It belongs to a man named Daniel Webster. Sound familiar?”
    Daniel Webster. She searched her mind. Came up blank. “No.” Sudden tears blurred her vision.
    “Hey,” he said softly. “We’ll figure this out. Promise.”
    She dashed the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. “I can’t believe no one’s looking for me.” Was she alone in the world? Just her and her baby? She sniffed, tired of the endless questions without answers. “Can’t I just once get a break?”
    “We have. I have an address for this Webster guy. He lives in Kingsbridge. We’ll start there. Maybe you know him and borrowed his car.”
    “Or maybe I stole it and he just doesn’t know it yet.”
    “Yeah. Maybe that too.”
    A few miles passed. Jon Bon Jovi segued into Madonna, then into Bob Seger.
    “There’s more,” John said.
    She rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes. “Can it get worse than this?”
    “I don’t know if this is good or bad.”
    “Just tell me.”
    “No one’s reported a murder in the past two weeks. Not of a Caucasian male in a home or business in Maryland.”
    She flashed back to her vision of the man lying on the carpet telling her to go to John Callahan. Could she have made it up? Her mind playing tricks on her? “It happened. I know it did.”
    “I believe you.”
    “You do?” She looked over at him, desperate for his reassurance. It was all too much. No name, no family looking for her, a murder that either never happened or hadn’t yet been discovered.
    “I believe you,” he repeated, staring straight ahead.
    There was a sense of relief for her in his words. Whoever had sent her to John, had known what he was doing. John would help her. “Thank you,” she whispered, leaning her head against the seat and closing her eyes. “Thank you.”

Chapter Seven
    John turned the engine off and they sat in the silence, staring at the house across the street.
    “Look familiar?” he asked.
    Hope shook her head.
    “Let me go first.” He reached under the seat for his gun and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans, zipping his coat over it. At the last minute, he’d grabbed the weapon, breaking all kinds of laws by bringing it across state lines concealed. He didn’t care. Not when their lives could possibly be in danger.
    “I want to go with you,” Hope said.
    “Hell no.”
    “Please, John. What if he’s family? What if he’s looking for me?”
    “What if he’s not? Hope, we have no idea what we’re walking into here.” For all they knew, Daniel Webster could be an abusive husband or lover. Maybe she’d even killed him in self-defense and that was the reason the car was never reported stolen. All very plausible scenarios. But none of them explained