Remembering That Night. Stephanie Doyle

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “It’s a Sunday. We’ve got nothing else to do,” Greg said in response to Chuck’s question.

      “Dude, speak for yourself. I could be working. Programming my next app. Making my next million.”

      “The world does not need another ‘Shoot the Squirrel’ update.”

      “That’s the point of apps. You don’t need them. In my next version I was thinking of making the squirrels rabid. So if you don’t shoot them in time, they attack with foam coming out of their mouths.”

      “Awesome. Please let me pay ninety-nine cents for foam-mouthed squirrels.”

      “Don’t hate the programmer, hate the game.”

      “It’s the nice thing to do,” Greg said trying to convince himself there was nothing more going on between him and this woman than a chivalrous act. It wasn’t as if he was trying to save her or anything. Just maybe...help her. A little. Which he didn’t really do anymore, but he was making an exception for her.

      Why her?

      Annoyed with himself, Greg stood. “She’s lost, helpless. You’re never going to get anywhere with women if you don’t recognize that when the needy, helpless ones come along, you have to step up your game.”

      “Hey, I get everywhere with women. I have no problem with you stepping up and playing knight to this damsel in distress. If you think she’s really in distress.”

      “She might be,” Greg said ambiguously.

      “See, that’s my point. You are never on the fence. Why are you now?”

      “Because hysterical amnesia is really hard to accept, but her body wasn’t conveying the tells normally associated with someone lying.”

      “Do you hear yourself? You sound like a politician.”

      Exactly. He wasn’t willing to commit to an answer. He didn’t want to say she was telling the truth only to look ridiculous for having bought into such an incredulous story. However, he couldn’t say she was lying when he didn’t see any evidence of it.

      He suddenly had a new appreciation for politicians. Saying something without saying anything wasn’t easy.

      Chuck was staring at him. Greg could feel it, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. His roommate’s hazel eyes were like beacons of suspicion.

      “You’ve got the hots for her.”

      Greg closed his eyes. “Why does it always come down to sex with you?”

      “Because I’m a man. Hey, I get it. She’s smokin’. Or would be if she wasn’t rocking the Carrie look, but seriously, man, do you really want to go there with a babe who has issues like she does?”

      “You are ridiculous,” Greg stated unequivocally. “I refuse to comment further.”

      It was at that point that she—because they had no other name for her—emerged from a hallway and walked over to them. She gave a little wave as if she appreciated that they’d waited for her. As if they were her friends. Which, considering that the number of people she knew in the world had been reduced to the officer who found her, the sheriff who questioned her and them, wasn’t all that wrong.

      Greg met her halfway. “Well?”

      “They took a CAT scan but didn’t find any evidence of a bleed. No bumps, either,” she said pointing to her temple. “And they gave me a concussion test, you know, look up, look down, that kind of thing. The doctor seemed to think I was fine physically. I didn’t know which day of the week it was, but I know who is president. Which is weird.”

      Greg nodded. So it was back to hysterical amnesia, most likely brought on by an event. Given that she was rocking the “Carrie look,” as Chuck had previously pointed out, the odds were it had been a fairly traumatic event.

      “Did he have any suggestions?”

      “There is a specialist at Thomas Jefferson he wants me to see. He said he would call and see if he could get me an appointment tomorrow. It’s a hospital in Philadelphia....”

      Her voice trailed off and Greg could see the panic start to take over as the ramifications of what she was saying sunk in. She had no car, no money, no identification. She had no way of getting herself to Philadelphia without hitchhiking.

      She didn’t even have a change of clothes. Or a way to clean the ones she had.

      “We’ll take you.” The words were out of his mouth even as her breaths grew faster and shorter.

      She looked at him. “Why would you do that? You don’t know me.”

      “I can’t wait to hear this,” Chuck said coming up behind him.

      “Being a good citizen isn’t enough?”

      Her suspicion was evident. What was less obvious was the bone-deep fear she was trying to keep at bay, but Greg could see it. “I think I should go back to the police. If they find something out about me...”

      “Listen, the sheriff doesn’t have any place to hold you unless it’s in a cell. They already took your prints to run them through the database. If anything hits they will let me know. You trusted us enough to get in a car with us to take you to the hospital. If we were going to hurt you we could have done it then. You need a free place to stay, a shower, a change of clothes and a meal.”

      “And you’re going to give me all that? For no reason?”

      “Not for no reason. I can’t fully establish if you’re lying or not. If you are, then you’re doing so because you committed a crime and you should be watched by someone. If you’re not, then you’re a fascinating case I would like to explore some more.”

      “I’ll bet.” Chuck snorted.

      Greg slapped him upside the head.

      She looked between the two men. “You’re asking me to trust you when you don’t trust I’m telling the truth. That doesn’t make sense. To go back to your place with you...”

      “Both of us,” Chuck interrupted. “We live together.”

      Her lips firmed and she shook her head. “I forgot my name. It doesn’t make me an idiot. Going to your home is different than getting in a car when the sheriff knew I was with you.”

      “I’ll call the sheriff again. Do you have any choice?”

      “Maybe you could drive me around. Back along the highway to Atlantic City. Maybe I’ll see something or remember something.”

      “I’m not going to Atlantic City,” Greg told her. He’d pushed it enough as it was. Not that he was fighting any serious urge to gamble. She had become enough of a distraction to take his mind off that. But he was definitely feeling on edge. With her, with the situation. Even with what he was offering.

      He could tell himself she was just a lost person he was trying to help out. A nice gesture. Something anyone might do for a fellow human being СКАЧАТЬ