The Soldier's Holiday Homecoming. Judy Duarte

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СКАЧАТЬ a simple little “memory problem.” It was a full-blown loss of identity, a loss of control over his life. And his gut clenched at the thought, at the possibilities....

      What if he had somewhere else to be at this exact second? Or what if someone needed him, but he was AWOL?

      Crap. What if the person waiting for him was his wife?

      “Uh, Sheriff,” he said. “Do you know if my military file mentioned anything about me being married or having kids?”

      “It didn’t say specifically, but you don’t have any military dependents listed. So my guess would be that you’re single.”

      Joe released a pent-up sigh. At least he didn’t have a family worrying about him. Not that he was completely off the hook. There could be someone else who needed him, someone who...

      No, that wasn’t true. He wasn’t sure how he knew that there was no one else, that no one had ever worried about him. He just did.

      “All right,” Chloe said. “I’ll keep Mr. Wilcox on the ranch while you finish looking into whoever did this.”

      “Sounds good.” The sheriff made his way to the door, then turned and looked at Joe. “I’ll keep you posted as to what else we uncover. And I’ll call the minute I hear anything from the military.”

      “Thanks. I’d appreciate that.” Joe supposed he should feel better, yet his jumbled mind couldn’t wrap itself around so many possibilities. And that left him just as confused as he’d been the moment he’d woken up in the E.R.

      Well, almost as confused.

      “I’ll walk you outside,” Chloe told the sheriff.

      As the two stepped onto the porch and continued toward the police car, Joe remained in the living room, feeling like a kid left behind so the grown-ups could have a discussion in private.

      But he could see why Chloe might want to talk to the cop in private. No doubt she wanted to relay her fears and misgivings about living with a random stranger.

      Hell, if she was afraid, he’d have to leave—no matter what Hollister had suggested. Too bad he had no idea where to go.

      For the time being, he headed back to the kitchen, determined to mop the floor and to finish the chore Chloe had started before Hollister had arrived. He figured that he might as well make himself helpful around the house and the ranch so she wouldn’t think of him as an obligation or a burden.

      Okay. So he was also curious about what was going on outside, what was being said.

      He placed the bucket into the sink, then turned on the faucet. While the water flowed out of the spigot, he looked out the big kitchen window, where Hollister and Chloe stood near the squad car.

      The sheriff opened the driver’s door and reached across the seat. Then he handed an envelope to Chloe.

      Was that Dave’s letter?

      For just being a “family friend,” she was certainly concerned about the guy. Not that Joe had any claim to his personal Florence Nightingale, but he couldn’t stop the uneasy feeling rolling through his stomach.

      Or the prickle of jealousy that sketched over him, urging him to try and make Chloe experience her own case of amnesia and forget whatever it was that she felt for Dave Cummings.

      * * *

      Chloe recognized Dave’s loopy penmanship the moment Sheriff Hollister handed over the letter. She’d been tempted to tear into it right then and there, but she merely stared at the worn and smudged envelope that someone had folded in half, measuring the weight of it in her hand.

      Apparently someone had been carrying it around for a while—either Dave or Joe. Maybe even both of them.

      “I’m curious about the contents of that letter,” the sheriff said.

      She could understand why, but she was reluctant to read what Dave had to say in front of anyone. She wasn’t sure what he’d written—or how it would make her feel. She’d never liked hurting anyone’s feelings or angering them, and realizing that she’d either hurt or angered Dave didn’t sit well with her.

      “There might be something inside that would suggest why Wilcox is here,” Sheriff Hollister added.

      “I thought you would have opened it as part of your investigation,” Chloe said.

      “It’s a sealed envelope. I can’t read it without a warrant, and since Dave Cummings wrote it to you, there’s no reason for me to request one.” Sheriff Hollister reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “If you find any clues that might help with my investigation, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know.”

      “Of course.”

      He nodded, then climbed into his squad car. “Everything I’ve learned about Wilcox suggests that he’s law-abiding. But if you have reason to believe otherwise, give me a call.”

      “I will. Thank you.” She refolded the envelope, then shoved it into the back pocket of her jeans.

      Rather than return to the house, she waited until the sheriff left and watched the black-and-white vehicle head down the drive, biding her time and tamping down her compulsion to tear into the missive.

      While tempted to dash upstairs and pore over the contents so she could get an idea where Dave was and why Joe had possession of the letter in the first place, she reined in her curiosity. She’d already left Joe alone in the house long enough and didn’t want him to think she was rude—or worse, suspicious of him. So she walked up the porch steps and entered the living room.

      She thought her houseguest might have gone back to bed—and if he had, she wouldn’t have blamed him. Those head injuries could really take a lot out of a person. But when she heard noise coming from the kitchen, she went looking for him there. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see him fixing himself a snack. But she hadn’t expected to find a bucket on the wet floor and to see him wringing out the mop.

      “What are you doing?” she asked.

      His movements stilled, and he leaned against the wooden handle, the muscles in his forearms flexed and primed for heartier work. “Thought I’d better help out and pay for my keep.”

      “You don’t need to do that.”

      “Yes, I do. I don’t like taking handouts.” His eye twitched, and his brow furrowed, his words drifting off. Had a memory crossed his mind?

      She was afraid to ask since she’d already jumped to that conclusion a couple of times, and she’d been wrong.

      “At least, I don’t think I do,” he added.

      “Dr. Nielson said that you should take it easy.”

      “Yeah, and she also told me to be patient, but something tells me I’m not one to sit around and wait for things to happen.”

      She continued to stand in the doorway, the letter burning a hole in her back pocket.

      “I’ll tell you what,” СКАЧАТЬ