Wife With Amnesia. Metsy Hingle

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СКАЧАТЬ understand,” Claire told the police detective as she sat in her hospital bed the following day. “But I’m not sure I’ll be of any more help to you now than I was yesterday. I still can’t remember what happened.”

      “So your husband tells me.” His expression earnest, the detective removed a notepad from his inside coat pocket and withdrew a sheet of paper tucked between the pages. “Fortunately your car was parked beneath a streetlight, so the witness who saw you attacked, a Mrs. Williams, got a pretty good look at your assailant. Based on her description, the police artist was able to come up with a sketch of what we believe your attacker looked like. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to take a look at it and see if it sparks your memory.”

      Claire hesitated. While she’d been frustrated over her inability to remember even the smallest of things, the prospect of seeing the face of the man who had attacked her made her uneasy.

      “Red, you up to this?” Matt asked as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

      His use of the pet name, which she’d learned he’d dubbed her because of her hair color, combined with his gentle touch, eased some of the churning inside her. He was her husband. She still had trouble digesting that fact. Yet, since she’d opened her eyes two days ago, Matt had rarely left her side. Each time when she’d become frustrated or frightened at not being able to recall things, there he was assuring her that everything would be all right, that her memory would come back. And as though he sensed her uneasiness now, here he was once again offering his support. Lord, but the poor man must be exhausted, she thought as she tipped her head back to look at his face. Even with several days’ growth of beard shadowing his jaw and worry lines etched around his eyes, he was still incredibly handsome. And sweet. He’d been impossibly sweet and attentive. How on earth could she not remember being married to him?

      “Claire?”

      She clamped the lid shut on her wandering thoughts. “I’m okay,” she assured him, and turned her attention back to the police detective. Bracing herself, she reached for the sketch.

      Her first thought was that the man looked ordinary—like someone she might pass on the street or see in line at the bank or the grocery store. Early to midfifties, she estimated. The baseball cap covered his forehead and most of his hair, except for the straggly ends that hung around his too-narrow face. His nose was long, slightly crooked, and his lips curled into what she considered a cruel twist. Shifting her attention to his eyes, a chill chased down her spine. There was something about his eyes…something lifeless and cold in the way they stared up at her…that licked at the edges of her memory—and made her heart begin to pound with fear.

      “Does he look familiar, Mrs. Gallagher?”

      Claire yanked her gaze from the sketch to the detective. “No,” she said quickly and shoved the picture back at him. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she tried to shake off the fear that had raced along her nerve endings when she’d looked into those cold evil eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t recognize him.”

      “Are you sure? For a moment, I thought—”

      “She said she doesn’t remember,” Matt said, sliding a protective arm around her shoulders.

      “I’m sure,” Claire told the detective. She leaned against Matt, grateful for his presence after her reaction to the man’s picture. Noting the detective’s skeptical expression, she said, “I don’t recognize him. If it seemed otherwise, it’s because seeing his face and knowing that he attacked me shook me for a moment. But I honestly don’t remember him.”

      “Perhaps something will come back to you later,” the detective suggested. He tucked the notepad and drawing back into his coat pocket. “In the meantime, we’ll start circulating his picture on the streets, see if we’re able to get a lead on the guy.”

      “I want the man who did this to my wife behind bars, Detective Delvecchio.”

      “So do we, Mr. Gallagher. Unfortunately, due to your wife’s amnesia, we don’t have a whole lot to go on.”

      “You have an eyewitness and a sketch of what the man looks like,” Matt pointed out.

      “And we’re pursuing both of those leads. But even if we do come up with a suspect and are able to make an arrest, we’re going to need your wife to identify him as the man who attacked her.”

      “Which I can’t do unless my memory returns,” Claire said aloud as the full impact of her situation hit her again.

      “I’m afraid so, ma’am.”

      The neurologist that Matt had brought in had told her that her memory could come back tomorrow, next month or even a year from now. Or it may never come back at all. The thought of not being able to remember the bits and pieces that made up her life, that made up who she was, caused the ever-present knot in her stomach to twist a little tighter.

      “You’ve got to give yourself some time. It’s only been a few days,” Matt told her as though, once again, he knew exactly what she was thinking.

      “Yes. I’m sure you’re right.” But the few days already felt like an eternity.

      “Thank you again for your time, Mrs. Gallagher.”

      “You’re welcome, Detective,” she said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be of more help.”

      “Like your husband said, it’s only been a few days. But if you should remember something, anything at all about what happened that night, I’d appreciate it if you would get in touch with me.”

      “I’ll do that,” she assured him, and took the business card he offered.

      He inclined his head toward Matt. “Mr. Gallagher.”

      “Detective.” Matt shook the other man’s hand, then ushered him toward the door. “I’d like you to keep me informed of any progress you make.”

      “Of course.” Detective Delvecchio started to leave, then paused. He rubbed at his jaw, and Claire could have sworn she saw speculation in the man’s hazel eyes as he looked from Matt to her and back again.

      “Was there something else, Detective?” Matt asked.

      “I understand your wife is going to be discharged from the hospital tomorrow.”

      “That’s right,” Matt replied. “The neurologist recommended she stay an additional night for observation, but she should be released sometime tomorrow. Why?”

      “I’m probably just being overcautious, but it might be a good idea if she isn’t left alone at home until we catch this guy.”

      “She won’t be. I’ll be with her. And when I’m not, my housekeeper or someone in my family will be staying with her.”

      “Is that really necessary?” Claire asked.

      “It’s just a precaution, ma’am. But I think it’s better if you have someone with you until we find this guy and put him behind bars.”

      Alarms went off in Claire’s head. “Why?” she asked, an uneasy feeling skittering down her spine.

      “Like I said, it’s just a precaution,” Delvecchio told her.

      Claire СКАЧАТЬ