Free Dying for Love by Rita Herron Page B

suffering like she had chilled her to the bone. “It is.”
    She stood and paced. “Ms. Lettie said they stopped giving me the drugs when I was pregnant, but who knows what kind of long-term effects could have been caused by the years I did take them.”
    “So you’re worried your baby might not be normal?”
    “That’s a possibility I have to consider,” Amelia said.
    Understanding flared in her eyes. She stood and gathered Amelia’s hands in her own. “There is one technique we haven’t tried that might help you recover memories of that time.”
    Hope budded inside Amelia’s chest. “What technique?”
    “It’s called RMT, Recovered Memory Therapy. But . . . ” Worry knitted her brow. “It could be dangerous, Amelia. It involves re-creating the circumstances in which the traumatic event occurred.”
    A cold sweat broke out across Amelia’s neck. “You mean giving me the drugs again?”
    Dr. Clover nodded. “Yes, and conducting the therapy in the sanitarium.”
    Amelia shook her head, fear seizing her. She’d do anything to find the truth.
    Anything but that.

    “I realize it only takes a minute for a child to disappear,” Terri said sharply. “But we were at home and it was during the daytime.”
    “Child predators strike at all hours of the day and night.”
    “Listen, Agent Strong, I feel bad enough about this without you reprimanding me.” Her shoulders sagged, and she suddenly looked exhausted, older than her age, which he’d have guessed was early thirties. “But I am honestly trying to help these kids, and I care about them. I grew up in foster care. I know what some of the homes are like.”
    The creak of the swing made John look across the yard. But the swing was empty, the wind pushing it back and forth as if a ghost was sitting on it.
    “Have you noticed anyone watching the children?” John asked. “A strange car nearby or someone new in the neighborhood?”
    The baby began to fuss, and she jiggled him up and down, trying to soothe him. “No.”
    “How about a car driving by often? Or maybe someone walking their dog? Oftentimes predators use animals or candy to lure children to come closer.”
    She rubbed at her temple with nails that had probably never seen a manicure. “I’m sorry. I can’t think of anyone.”
    Coulter walked over, his dark eyes troubled. “The little girl said she saw a white van drive by after lunch. Said she noticed it because she thought it was an ice-cream truck.”
    Terri made a low sound of worry. “The ice-cream truck only comes to our neighborhood on Saturdays and not in the winter.”
    John silently cursed. “What else did she see?”
    Coulter shook his head. “There was no snow cone on the side, but the van played music.”

    Fear and regret washed over Dr. Clover as she looked through the window and watched Amelia run to her car. Amelia kept looking over her shoulder, obviously terrified someone was after her.
    She had good reason to be terrified.
    Her phone buzzed, and she startled. Her hand shook as she picked up the receiver.
    “She was just there?”
    She closed her eyes, hating his voice. Hating what he made her do. “Yes.”
    “She’s starting to remember things?”
    “Yes. She knows about the baby.”
    Dr. Clover massaged the knot at the base of her neck. A stress headache beat against her temple. The nausea would follow.
    She popped an antacid.
    “Then do something,” he snarled.
    Dr. Clover closed her eyes, a war raging in her mind. She had always followed the code. Done as he’d ordered.
    She couldn’t refuse him now.
    “June, you have to finish this.”
    Yes, she did. Her reputation depended on it.
    Hell, her life depended on it.
    She did not want to die.
    Amelia wasn’t paranoid. Someone was following her. She’d suggested RMT to Amelia, knowing it could help her recover the holes in her past.
    But if she remembered everything, the memories could get her killed.
     

Chapter Eight

    A melia fretted about the doctor’s