Identity Unknown. Terri Reed

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СКАЧАТЬ You gave us all quite a scare, on many levels. I’m Dr. Martin. What is your name?”

      John grimaced. “I don’t know. I’ve lost my mind.”

      Dr. Martin’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. “You sustained a rather dramatic blow to the head as well as some hypothermia. You have a linear skull fracture that will heal with time. I saw no evidence of a brain bleed. You certainly have a concussion, so you’ll need to be monitored for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Most likely the severity of the inciting event coupled with the force of the hit to your temple region caused your memory loss. Retrograde amnesia isn’t uncommon. What can you remember?”

      “Nothing before waking up here.” John darted a glance at the deputy. She’d said he’d awakened last night and that was why she seemed familiar. But he had a feeling she was holding back, not telling him everything. Why would she do that?

      The doctor listened to his heart and his lungs, then checked his pupils. “You seem to be in good order. I have no doubt your memories will return. Just be aware that they may come in spits and spurts and be disjointed. Like putting together a jigsaw puzzle. Eventually your memories will slide into place, and you’ll be back to your old self.”

      Foreboding prickled his flesh. Whoever he’d been was someone worth killing. What had he been mixed up in? Something illegal? Was he a criminal? “I shouldn’t stay here. Whoever broke in last night might return. I don’t want to put anyone at risk.”

      Deputy Martin’s gaze zeroed on the sheriff. “The captain’s place. I could take him there.”

      The sheriff shook his head. “No. The safest place for him, and our town, is a jail cell.”

      “What!” The deputy shook her head. “No way. We can’t lock him up without any evidence of wrongdoing. That would be setting us up for a lawsuit.”

      The sheriff arched an eyebrow. “Not if putting him in a cell is for his own safety. I know the law, Audrey.”

      Ah, so that was the pretty deputy’s name. John liked the sound of it. He rolled the name around his brain and tried to remember if he’d known her before his memories had been wiped clean, but his mind remained empty, like a void in space. At least thinking about Audrey didn’t induce any pain in his head.

      Audrey’s shoulders dropped slightly, and her mouth pressed into a straight line. “You don’t think I can handle this situation?”

      The distress in her voice had John tensing. He wasn’t sure what was at play between these people, but clearly she had a chip on her shoulder. A strange protective urge surfaced. His hand clenched a fistful of sheet. He didn’t know why he wanted to defend this woman. He wasn’t sure if she deserved to be defended or not. Maybe she couldn’t handle his situation. Maybe she could. But the one thing he did know was he didn’t want to cause her harm.

      “I didn’t say that.” The sheriff’s tone suggested they’d discussed this conversational land mine before. “But you have to admit, this isn’t something we deal with often here in our little corner of the world.”

      Audrey opened her mouth to reply, but the doctor held up a hand. “David, Audrey, take your discussion outside, please. This is upsetting to the patient.”

      “No, wait,” John was quick to say. “The sheriff’s right. The best place for me is somewhere I won’t pose a threat to innocent bystanders.” Or a pretty deputy sheriff.

      Audrey’s eyebrows pinched together as she turned her baby blues on him. “You won’t be comfortable there. You’re recovering from a nearly fatal head wound, not to mention nearly drowning and freezing to death in the ocean.”

      “Better I’m uncomfortable than anyone getting hurt.”

      Her gaze narrowed. “That’s very self-sacrificing.”

      “Or very self-serving,” John countered. “I have no desire to die. If being locked up keeps me alive until my memory returns, then so be it.”

      “That’s settled,” the sheriff intoned. “Carol, when you’re ready to release Mr. Doe, I’ll take him to the sheriff’s station.”

      Carol’s gaze darkened with concern. “If you’re sure.”

      “I am,” the sheriff confirmed. “It’s best for everyone this way.”

      Audrey made a distinct harrumph noise but didn’t comment.

      “I’ll have the nurse bring our patient’s clothing while I process his discharge papers,” the doctor told them. “He’ll need careful monitoring to make sure his concussion doesn’t worsen. If he loses consciousness again or throws up or complains of dizziness, call me right away.”

      “We will.” The sheriff held the door open for the doctor. “I’ll be outside,” he said to Audrey before he followed the doctor out of the room.

      “That went well,” Audrey said on a huff. She offered him a stiff smile. “Sorry you had to witness that little drama.”

      “What was that about?” he asked. “Are you new to the job?” That had to play into the dynamics between the deputy and sheriff.

      She lifted her chin. “Sort of. I did a year on patrol in Bangor before returning home to Calico Bay.”

      “And how long ago did you return?”

      “Less than a year.”

      Okay. She was inexperienced. The sheriff was being cautious on many levels. John could appreciate that. He’d be the same if he had a fairly new recruit under him.

      The thought stopped him. Recruit? What did that mean? Was he in law enforcement? Or was the thought just a random scenario that had nothing to do with his life prior to waking up in the hospital?

      The throbbing in his head intensified. His stomach cramped.

      “Hey, you better lie down,” Audrey said, moving quickly to his side. “You’re not looking so good.”

      “Headache,” he said as he scooted back to rest his head on the pillow. “I don’t remember the last time I had food.”

      “You don’t want the hospital’s grub,” Audrey warned. She withdrew a protein bar from the side pocket of her pants. “This will tide you over until we can get you some real food.”

      Grateful for the snack, he took the bar, ripped open the top and consumed it in three bites and washed it down with another glass of water. The bar hit his stomach with a thud, but it stopped the cramping. “Thanks.”

      “You’re welcome,” she said. She rested her hands on her utility belt. “What kind of seafood do you like? It’s the season for crab and monkfish now. But mussels are available, as are scallops.”

      His mouth watered at the thought of some good seafood, but no memory surfaced to support the visceral reaction. “Any of that sounds delicious. You’re related to the doctor.”

      A wry smile curved her lips. “Caught that, did you? She’s my mom, and the sheriff’s my great-uncle.”

      “Good to know.”

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