Identity Unknown. Terri Reed

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СКАЧАТЬ eyebrow. “You know your mother. Of course that was one of the first things she did.”

      “Right.” Her mother couldn’t abide drugs. She’d lost her younger brother to the poison years ago. “And?”

      “Clean blood. No track marks.”

      “Good.” For some reason knowing John Doe wasn’t a junkie pleased her. But just what and who he was remained a mystery, as did why someone was so ardently trying to kill him. What did John know? “The man who shot at me wasn’t some garden-variety bad guy. Whatever John Doe is, he’s into something bad.”

      “Yeah, I have that feeling, too. The road tacks the perp used to stop my car when I chased after him can be bought online easy enough. But there was skill involved.”

      In the melee of the crash and aftermath, she’d forgotten what John Doe had said on the beach. “He’d muttered a word when I first reached him—betrayed.”

      “That’s interesting. And concerning. The masked man may have been his attacker from the get-go and is very determined to finish the job. I don’t like it. I want you to go home,” the sheriff said. “I’ll stick around until Harrison and Paulson can get here.”

      She straightened. Did he think she wasn’t doing a good job? “I’ll stay.”

      “You’ve been on duty since five a.m.”

      “I’m not tired.”

      He sighed. “Let’s get his prints and a photo. Then I’m ordering you to go home. In the morning you can search the criminal and missing-persons databases. Hopefully you’ll come up with a name and a reason why someone wants him dead.”

      * * *

      Audrey arrived at the station at 6 a.m. and uploaded the fingerprints she’d taken from their mysterious John Doe and his photo off her phone into the FBI’s national criminal information center as well as the violent criminal apprehension program for missing persons.

      Nothing turned up.

      The man could be a Canadian, since the border between the two countries was only a few miles across the ocean. She sent his prints and his photo to the criminal investigation division of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, Canada’s federal policing agency. She provided her cell phone number so they could contact her directly.

      Then she headed back to the medical center to relieve the sheriff. She met Deputy Paulson outside John Doe’s room. “How did it go?”

      “All quiet,” he replied. “Sheriff’s inside.”

      She entered, half hoping John Doe had awakened. He still slept. His face looked relaxed. His dark hair fell over his forehead, covering one eye. Beside him sat the sheriff with his arms folded over his massive chest, his chin tipped down and his eyes closed. Audrey hesitated, debating stepping back out.

      “You’re here early,” the sheriff said softly, lifting his head.

      She straightened and came fully into the room. “No hits on NCIC or ViCAP. I sent his info to the RCMP.”

      “Good thinking.” He stood and stretched. “I’m going to grab some coffee. You want some?”

      “No, thank you,” she replied. His praise eased the worry from the night before that she wasn’t doing a good job. Her spine straightened as she moved aside to let him pass.

      She went to the window. Frost laced the edges of the glass. She stared at the tree line flanking the west side of the building. The green pine trees were sprinkled with a soft layer of new snow that had fallen during the night. Today, the sun peeked out from behind gray clouds. With 80 percent of the state of Maine forested, there were many hiding places for the masked man to lose himself in. Was he out in the woods now, waiting for another opportunity to strike?

      A noise behind her sent a jolt of adrenaline straight to her heart. She spun to find John Doe springing from the bed and landing on the balls of his feet to face her. He ripped out his IV line. It fell to the floor, and the heart monitor sounded an alarm.

      Audrey quickly shut off the shrill noise.

      The hospital gown they’d put on him stretched across his wide shoulders as his hands went up in a defensive position. Words flowed from his mouth, but she had no idea what he was saying.

      She held her hands palms up. Adrenaline flooded her veins. She didn’t want to have to take the guy down, but if he didn’t calm himself, she’d do it. “Hey, take it easy. You’re in the hospital.”

      More words in a language she didn’t understand came at her.

      “I don’t know what you’re saying,” she said. “Please speak English.”

      His panicked dark eyes swept over her and the room. Looking for an escape?

      The door behind him opened. A young nurse rushed in, followed by the sheriff, carrying his coffee in one hand. John Doe whirled to confront a new threat.

      “Don’t!” Audrey shouted, afraid either man would attack the other. “He’s okay. It’s okay. Everyone’s okay.”

      The sheriff held up his free hand. “Whoa, there, son. No one is here to hurt you. My name is Sheriff Crump. You’re safe now.” To the nurse, the sheriff said, “We’ve got this.”

      She clearly wasn’t reassured, as her scared gaze zinged from the sheriff to the patient and back again. “He shouldn’t be up. He’s bleeding where his IV line was. I should check on his wounds.”

      Audrey glanced at the smear of blood on the unknown man’s arm. The amount wasn’t life threatening, just messy.

      “You can come back in a bit,” David said in a tone that left no room for argument. “I need to question the man.”

      With a frown, the nurse retreated, leaving them alone with the mysterious man. John Doe let out a string of words that made no sense to Audrey. Worry churned in her gut. What was going on? Obviously he was a foreigner, but from where? She couldn’t place the language.

      The sheriff cocked his head, his gaze going to Audrey. She shrugged, at a loss for how to communicate with the patient. The sharp sense of helplessness was too familiar. She hated the feeling. She’d felt this way the night her father hadn’t returned from the sea. Only then it had been more intense. Now it was enough to make her jittery.

      “I can understand a few words,” the sheriff said. “I think he’s speaking in Cree. One of the professors I worked with at the university taught a class in Native American studies and had a segment on languages. Cree has a very distinct dialect.” He turned his attention back to John Doe. “Does that sound right?”

      Confusion played over the man’s face. He took a shuddering breath and then spoke in English. “I don’t know. I can hear the words in my head, but they mean nothing to me. Where am I?”

      “You’re in Calico Bay,” Audrey supplied. “Were you on a boat?”

      John Doe backed up so he could see both Audrey and the sheriff. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. Calico Bay?”

      “Downeast СКАЧАТЬ