Running on Empty. Michelle Celmer

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СКАЧАТЬ A grin teased the corner of his mouth. It wasn’t even a real smile and her stomach still did a half-gainer straight down to her toes. Was he trying to look adorable, or did it just come naturally?

      “What else do you remember?” he asked.

      “I remember waking up in the hospital.”

      “That’s it?”

      “Everything before that is gone. It’s the weirdest feeling, like opening a book and finding blank pages. I know something is supposed to be there, but it’s as if all the words are written in invisible ink.” She sat up, pulling the light blanket up to her neck, feeling self-conscious in the flimsy hospital gown. “Where are my clothes?”

      “I think there’s a bag of stuff in the drawer next to the bed. You didn’t have a purse or any identification when I found you.”

      She slid the drawer open and found a plastic bag marked “personal belongings.” “I don’t suppose you know when they’re letting me out of here.”

      “Today, I think. Why? You’ve got plans?”

      She swore she detected a note of suspicion in his voice. “We have to try and find out who I am, don’t we?”

      “We?”

      “Yeah, we. I assume you’re the one investigating my attack. I’m not going to sit around doing nothing. I want to help.”

      “Ms.—”

      “Don’t tell me that put in the same situation you would want to sit around twiddling your thumbs, waiting for your memory to magically reappear.”

      “No, I wouldn’t, but—”

      “The doctor told me that seeing something familiar could trigger a memory. It only makes sense that I get out and try to find something familiar. If I have to, I’ll do it alone.”

      “I wouldn’t advise that,” Detective Thompson said. “You have no money, no identification, no transportation. And we have no idea who attacked you, or why.”

      “You think I’m in danger?”

      “I’m not ready to make any assumptions at this point.” He sighed, leaning forward and raking a hand through his tousled hair. Hair the same warm brown as his eyes and just long enough to cover the tops of his ears and brush the collar of his jacket. And soft looking. She imagined what it would feel like to run her fingers through it.

      Oh, yeah, like that would ever happen. He was probably married. Or at least attached. For that matter, maybe she was, too.

      “So when do we start?” she asked.

      “We don’t do anything. First off, I don’t even know if I’ll be the one investigating. And second, I don’t make it a habit of dragging victims along with me while I work a case.”

      “My case. Also, there’s the slight problem of me not knowing where I live. Where do you plan to put me?”

      “A halfway house. You should be safe there until we figure out who you are and who did this. As long as you stay put,” he added.

      No way. No way was he dumping her off at some crummy halfway house. If he expected her to agree to that, he was in for a big surprise. “But the sooner I get my memory back, the sooner you solve the case, right?”

      “You can call the precinct if you remember anything.”

      Was he joking? Did he honestly expect her to sit around doing nothing?

      Fat chance.

      She dug through the clothes bag, wondering how something that belonged to her could look so completely foreign. “They’re all cut up,” she said, pulling out a mutilated pair of jeans and T-shirt. The only thing left intact was a dark blue jacket.

      “They cut your clothes off in the E.R. It’s standard procedure.”

      She looked up at him, aghast. “What am I supposed to do, walk out of here naked?”

      “I’m sure the hospital will give you some clothes, and the halfway house will have things for you.” Detective Thompson stood, pulling his jacket on. “I’m going to try to find the doctor to see when they’re letting you out of here, then I’m going to make a few phone calls and set things up.”

      She was pretty sure, from the determined set of his jaw, that arguing would get her nowhere, so she nodded. She’d think of something, some way to make him see things her way. And if that didn’t work, she’d have to take matters into her own hands. She had rights. He couldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to do.

      She stuffed the jeans and shirt in the bag and looked the jacket over. Searching the pockets, she found wadded tissues in one and a faded receipt in the other. There was no store name, just a few random numbers. Then she turned it over to check the other side and gasped at the note scrawled there.

      Detective Thompson stopped halfway to the door. “What’s wrong?”

      “Did you put this in my jacket?” she asked, holding the paper up.

      “No. Is it familiar?”

      “Sort of,” she said, holding it out to him. On the back of the receipt written very lightly in pencil was a name: Detective Mitch Tompson.

      Chapter 3

      “This doesn’t make any sense,” Mitch said. “What are you doing with my name in your pocket?”

      She shrugged, looking equally baffled. “How should I know? Have we met?”

      No, a man didn’t forget a woman like her. The wide, silvery eyes alone were enough to snag his attention. Had he met her in a social situation he would have noticed, and he’d have been interested. “I’m sure we haven’t. I would have remembered.”

      “Maybe the person who hit me stuck it in there.”

      “I know a good way to find out.” He pulled a pen and notepad out of his jacket, opening it to a blank page. He handed them both to her. “Write my name.”

      She penned his name across the paper and handed it back to him. After comparing the two, there was no doubt in his mind. They were identical. She’d even left the h out of his last name both times.

      “It was definitely you,” he said, holding it up for her to see. “But why?”

      She shrugged, looking genuinely bewildered.

      Damn. What had started out as a simple attack had just become a lot more complicated.

      It couldn’t be a coincidence that they’d been in the same store and she had his name. It also meant he wouldn’t be passing this case off to anyone. Not until he knew why and how he was involved. Not after the last time he found himself involved in a case. That had nearly cost him his career.

      So much for his weekend off.

      In his pocket, his pager СКАЧАТЬ