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Her biggest concern was that her father was involved. And that her memory returning would cause her father to be tossed behind bars for the rest of his life.
Tension radiated up Fiona’s hand to the point Doc could practically hear her troubled thoughts. She was concerned about what her memory would reveal about her family. Late last night, he’d researched amnesia. The information he’d gleaned leaned toward a psychological trauma combined with a head injury being the cause of her memory loss.
Like having seen her father, or someone who worked for her father, doing something criminal.
Doc didn’t believe in coincidences. The untimely death of Savior’s Journey’s trainer the day before the upcoming race had to be related to the gunman tracking Fiona. It was the only thing that made sense.
And Fiona was thinking along the same lines. He hoped she’d be honest and forthcoming when her memory returned. But glancing down at her, he was forced to admit that if her father was involved, she might lie to protect him.
Sure, she seemed to have embraced Christian values. Praying had come naturally to her, despite her amnesia. Yet he wasn’t convinced that would be enough to keep her on the straight and narrow path of the law.
The rental car facility was up ahead. He hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary on their walk, but with all the tourists milling about, it would not be easy to spot a tail. The crowded streets might work in their favor too. The only problem being these guys knew what Fiona looked like.
The rental car facility appeared busy. He imagined many of those who’d come into town for the race had rented a vehicle. Would they be sold out, much like the hotels? Releasing Fiona’s hand, he reached for the door.
Doc stepped forward to get in line. By the time it was his turn, he figured he’d be lucky to get a smart car, especially when he told the guy he didn’t have a car reserved.
“Hmm. Well, I hope you’re not too picky.” The clerk tapped keys on the computer. “Looks like I have a Chevy Malibu or a Honda Civic.”
“I’ll take the Malibu, thanks.” He pulled out his Grayson’s Guardians credit card and completed the transaction.
The clerk eyed Fiona. “I’ll need her license, too, if she’s driving.”
“She’s not.” Fiona didn’t have anything—driver’s license, credit cards, or cash. “Just me.”
Ten minutes later, Doc used the key fob to unlock the white Chevy Malibu. He didn’t particularly like the color, which would be easy to see in the dark, but in this situation, he decided it wouldn’t matter. Besides, the Civic was a champagne color, which wasn’t any better.
His phone rang. Pulling it from his pocket, he was relieved to see Rex’s name on the screen. “Hey, boss.” He started the car but didn’t shift into drive. “Did you get my message?”
“Yeah, I did. I’m starting to think it would be easier for me to head down to Kentucky than to keep fielding phone calls from you.” Rex’s tone was dry. “First of all, I was able to score two general tickets for the race tomorrow. Let me tell you, that was no easy feat. These horse-racing people are a little crazy if you ask me. The races have been sold out since the beginning of the year.”
“That’s awesome news, thanks.” He flashed a reassuring smile at Fiona who was listening to his side of the conversation. “Attending the race should help spark Fiona’s memory.”
“I hope so.” Rex didn’t sound convinced. “I also left a message with the Lexington police about Jacobson’s cause of death. I’m hoping they return my call.”
That made him frown. “What if the Lexington PD doesn’t call you back? Do you have any other strings to pull?”
“I have a few contacts with the FBI,” Rex said. “I can try David Braun here in the Chicago office, but he might not be too friendly. Mac has an FBI buddy in Wyoming, and Cam has become acquainted with an agent from Grand Rapids after his close brush with a serial killer. The problem being the feds only have one office in the entire state of Kentucky, and that’s in Louisville. I can try to go through one of the other agents to see if they’ll have luck with the Louisville office but am hoping the local police will call me back.”
Doc didn’t think the local police would call him back, but he wasn’t in a position to tell Rex how to do his job. “Whatever you think is best, but keep in mind that the trainer’s death could be related to the danger stalking Fiona. The sooner we know what we’re dealing with, the better.”
“Understood. I’ll give it some time, then reach out to the feds.” Rex paused, then added, “How are things going otherwise?”
“Fine.” He put the car in gear and headed through the sparsely populated parking lot. “The only new intel is Calvin Jacobson’s death.”
“Okay. I’ll get the tickets shipped to your hotel. It’s still the Derby Inn Suites, right?” Rex asked.
“Yes. Thanks. I’ll be in touch.” Doc ended the call and dropped his phone in the center console. He merged into traffic and glanced at Fiona. “You heard we got the tickets?”
“Yes. That’s great.” Her smile appeared strained, and he wondered if she was worried about running into her father at the race. It didn’t seem likely. Didn’t owners of racehorses sit in box seats?
“Are you hungry?” They’d spent more time shopping, watching the news, and walking to get the rental car than he’d realized. The hour was half past noon. “We can grab lunch, then head back to the hotel.”
“That’s fine.” She turned in her seat to face him. “I can look at the horses’ names for the upcoming race, but I think we should continue keeping an eye on the news. If it turns out that Jacobson was killed, I am sure the media will blab the information to the rest of the world.”
She had a point. Nothing remained a secret for long these days. “Okay, that’s sounds good.” Another thought struck. “How far ahead of time to horses need to be scratched from a race? Is there a specific time frame that’s required to pull out?”
“No. Horses are often scratched as late as an hour before the race.” Her brow furrowed. “They drug test the horses before and after each race, so we should be able to figure out if doping was involved in this scheme.”
