Dying for Love Read Online Free PDF

she?” Dr. Clover asked.
    “Yes,” Amelia said. “A baby boy. They named him Ben.” She held up a hand when Dr. Clover started to speak. “I’ve already considered the possibility that this dream is some kind of jealousy over Sadie and her marriage and family.”
    “A very astute observation.”
    Amelia smiled wryly. “I’ve been in therapy for months.”
    Dr. Clover laughed softly. “Does that mean you don’t need me anymore?”
    Amelia wished that were true. “No. If this is some kind of envy dream, I can accept that. But in the dream, someone takes my baby from me.”
    “Who takes him?”
    Amelia fidgeted. “I can’t see his face, but I think it’s Commander Arthur Blackwood.”
    Dr. Clover sighed. “That’s understandable. Blackwood robbed you of a normal life for years, isolating you from your family. Maybe your subconscious is working out your emotions and anger because you feel you would have had love and a family like your sister if he hadn’t made you a subject in the experiments.”
    “Maybe.” On a rational level, Dr. Clover’s comments made perfect sense. “But it feels so real.”
    Dr. Clover raised a brow. “It’s hard for you to believe he’s dead, isn’t it, Amelia? That it’s finally over?”
    Amelia nodded. “Of course it is. But Jake assured me that it was his finger and his DNA in the carnage from the crash.”
    Dr. Clover leaned forward, her gray eyes penetrating Amelia’s. “He hurt you so much over the years that it’s understandable you have residual fear. Even rationally knowing he’s gone, the mind plays tricks on us.”
    Amelia nodded. That had to be what was happening, just like outside when she’d imagined being followed. But the feeling seemed to have grown stronger lately.
    Amelia fidgeted. She wanted to talk about the man in her dreams as well, the one she’d painted.
    Dr. Clover grew quiet. “Would you like to try hypnosis again?”
    Amelia agreed. She’d do anything to find the answers and be rid of the constant fear consuming her.

    The winter storm continued to rage across the mountains as John let himself into the cabin he’d rented on the river, a migraine pulsing behind his eyes.
    After the interview with Darby Wesley, he’d checked into Shayla Simms. He hadn’t liked what he’d found out.
    The doctor’s report indicated bruises that had been months in the making.
    Darby wasn’t going back there.
    But his other options weren’t good either. The poor kid needed a loving mother to comfort him after the trauma, but he had none.
    Life fucking sucked sometimes.
    He staggered toward the kitchen counter and leaned on it, closing the blinds to shut out the light. Wind crashed against the windows, and the woods behind his log house were covered in a blanket of snow and ice. The cold made his head hurt worse.
    With the holes in his past had come the headaches. Sometimes so severe he had to take a pill to knock himself out.
    He popped a couple of aspirin, and chugged a glass of water hoping to ward it off before it immobilized him.
    There were too many unanswered questions in his past. Too many blanks that hadn’t been filled in and might never be.
    Not since he’d woken up in the hospital with no memory of who he was, where he lived, or what he’d done with his life.
    And not a damn clue as to why he’d been driving a hundred miles an hour on mountain roads, ultimately plunging over a ridge.
    Doctors said the head injury had caused amnesia and that he might never regain his memories. Without ID, the police had dubbed him a John Doe.
    When he’d been released, one of the nurses had assured him he was strong and would survive, so he’d changed the Doe part to Strong.
    Of course he’d searched for information about himself, but he came up with nothing.
    A fact that perplexed him even more.
    Maybe it was the mystery of his own life that had driven him to join law enforcement. Working cases was where he belonged.
    The only place he belonged.