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she would at least recognize the murderer if he stood in line behind her at an ATM.
    The thought of a faceless killer approaching her increased her resolve to remember. Until she knew the horrible details of Friday night, and the man responsible for them, she wouldn’t have control over her own life.
    And that was one thing that Claire Lambert simply would not accept. In the last eight years she’d worked hard to build a safe and comfortable life. She wouldn’t let the killer take that away from her, too.
    She closed her eyes and almost instantly began to dream of pale eyes, photographs, and cruel smiles.

Chapter 8
    Washington, D.C.
    Saturday afternoon
    C laire emerged from a sleep so deep she hadn’t moved in hours. As her mind slowly came awake, she took stock of herself. Her head still hurt, no doubt about it, but she no longer felt as if there were a sharp-toothed demon gnawing her brain from the inside out. She stretched gently, testing the rest of her body. Her thigh and calf muscles were stiff, and her feet were sore, but everything else was in good shape—except her memory.
    She opened her eyelids and looked directly into a compelling hazel gaze. Tilting her head she studied the green-blue eyes. They were set in a wide face with strong cheekbones, a square jaw, and nicely shaped lips. As she continued to stare, the lips moved in a smile. A very charming smile. He looked to be in his early thirties, though he sprawled in an armchair with the ease of a teenager. He seemed vaguely familiar, but he wasn’t one of the doctors, which meant he had to be the detective.
    “I thought your eyes were blue,” she said.
    “Nope. They’re hazel.” The room door opened and theman next to her gestured with his chin. “My cousin’s eyes are blue.”
    She turned to look at the newcomer. Here were the stark blue eyes that had punctuated her dreams. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t remembered the rest of the package, as well. Dark hair, tall, athletic build with broad shoulders and long legs. And a truly striking face.
    He wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, though he was certainly handsome. His power lay in his icy eyes, which weighed the world with tangible intelligence.
    “I see you two have met.” Blue Eyes approached the bed, holding out a cup of coffee to the other man.
    “We were just getting there. Why don’t you make the introductions?” Hazel Eyes and Charming Smile took the coffee and sipped from the steaming container.
    “This is Aidan Burke, my cousin and partner. I’m Sean Richter, in case you don’t remember me. We’re both detectives with DCPD’s Homicide Division. Aidan, meet Marie Claire Lambert.” Though he spoke to the other man, Sean’s blue eyes continued to look intently at Claire.
    “Please, just Claire,” she said. “My Catholic mother mistakenly thought I’d learn grace and humility if she named me after the Blessed Virgin, but it’s been years since anyone actually called me Marie Claire.”
    “And what did you do to the last person who called you that?” Aidan teased.
    She smiled and said in her best Louisiana drawl, “Now, cher , is that something I’d tell a detective?”
    As the words echoed in the room, her smile dimmed. Detectives. These men were here to take her statement about a series of deadly events she couldn’t even recall.
    “Claire it is,” Aidan said. “Is there anyone we can call for you? Family, boyfriend, roommate?”
    The last of her smile faded at the question.
    No, no family at all.
    She pushed aside the old sadness at having outlived all of her close relatives. “I don’t have any family, but—Livvie! I have to call her. What time is it? We were supposed to have lunch today. She’ll be frantic.”
    Claire sat up and flung back the sheet to reach for the phone. Instead her hands grabbed her head. “God damn it.”
    “Easy does it.” Sean caught Claire’s bandaged feet before they touched the floor. “No sense in breaking open these cuts or fainting