Anacacho, An Allie Armington Mystery (14 page)

Fanny must be standing above me. Her words are
muted. “I’d hold off on that. No point in stirring things up.”

Luke jams his hand farther between my legs, then
moves it back and forth. “But she likes it. I know she does.”

“
I said, hold off.”

Their voices are drowned by the whine of an
approaching helicopter.

The motor finally dies, giving me a little
relief.

Minutes pass, then there are more footsteps and
whispers.

I hear Luke say, “I did what I had to do, dammit.
Somebody should have been on her tail. You should have kept her
away from here.”

I listen for a reply, but my head is splitting. I’ve
never felt such pain. Never imagined I could be alive and hurt so
badly. A firm hand touches my forehead, then I smell the familiar
smoky aftershave. It’s Bill.

“
Too late now to do anything about
it. What’s wrong with Carpenter?”

Fanny laughs. “Coming down from Mister Brown isn’t
as much fun as losing the glow from Mister Snow.”

Smack, junk, brown sugar, horse, and skunk roll
through my mind, all street names for heroin. I think back to
January. No visible tracks then. His symptoms were those of a
cocaine abuser.

Bill’s accusation interrupts my thoughts. “You shot
Carpenter with heroin?”

“
A real big dose. One more and
he’s bye-bye,” Luke says. “I say we put a bullet in her, then kill
Carpenter and he gets the blame.” “No can do, Luke. We can’t leave
her here. That’s too dangerous for the operation.”

Fanny sounds close. “Whatever you say. You’re the
boss.”

I feel Bill examine the back of my head. His hands
are gentle. He pats my shoulder, then says, “I’ll take care of
her.”

He rolls me over, then lifts me. “Do what you want
with Carpenter. He’s already dead meat.” He stops. “They’ll be here
in less than an hour, so whatever you do, do it pronto.”

VOICES. TOO FAR AWAY. Can’t hear what they’re
saying. Where am I? I don’t know. Where have I been? I can’t
remember.

“
Allie? Can you hear me? It’s
Dad.” Someone’s holding my hand. I feel clean. The sheets seem
smooth beneath me. Why do I smell rubbing alcohol? I should get
ready for work, but it’s still too dark to get out of
bed.

The voice is deep. “Your daughter suffered a pretty
severe concussion complicated by a subdural hematoma. The
pressure’s been relieved. Shouldn’t be too long before she comes
out of it.”

A finger pries open my right lid and a bright light
pierces the darkness.

“
See how quickly the pupil
responds?” Deep Voice says. “That’s a very good sign.”

“
Allie? I’m Doctor Dirk Knight,
your neurologist. Can you squeeze my hand?”

A hand squeezes. I want to squeeze back. But how? I
don’t know how. I can’t remember.

“
Try hard, Allie, I know you can
do it.” Can I?

I must, because I hear Dad’s, “That’s my girl.”

The hand squeezes again and Deep Voice says, “That’s
great, Allie, but I’d like a repeat.”

“
So would I.” That’s my voice. A
little croaky, but definitely mine.

Deep Voice comes into focus. He’s a huge man with
buzz-cut red hair and so many freckles he looks like he has a rash.
I can see my reflection in his owlish glasses. I’m just short of a
mummy with a football helmet of bandages.

“
How long have I been
out?”

He flips open my chart. “Not sure exactly. You were
unconscious when they found you outside the Laredo ER late Friday
night. Your ID was in your jeans pocket.”

“
And today is?”
“Wednesday.”

Dad peers over the doctor’s shoulder. “The police
called your apartment manager, who contacted us. We thought Houston
had the best medical facilities.”

When the doctor leaves, Dad settles beside me.
“Thank God you’re all right. We were so worried. Angela has called
at least twice a day.”

I am just about to ask about my mother when the door
flies open and I hear her voice. “They said she’s awake.”

My mother’s tear-stained face comes into view as
cool, quivering hands cover my cheeks. “Oh, Allie, we were so
afraid we were going to lose you. Thank heavens you’re okay,
because I couldn’t have made it through another funeral.”

“
How’s this?” Dr. Knight is above
me, checking my pupillary reaction for the third time this morning,
and for the third time this morning the probing light ratchets the
dull ache to a pile-driving pound.

“
Same as before,” I groan. I jam
my eyes shut, hoping the usual dizziness and nausea will remain at
bay.

“
Mmmm.”

I hear him leaf through my chart and I crack one
lid. The room isn’t spinning. A good sign. The clock on the wall
reads just past eleven. I should have my appetite up to speed by
the time they deal out the lunches.

Today is my first day up and though I was a little
dizzy, I managed to shower. There’s a large shaved spot at the back
of my head where they drilled through my skull to drain the
hematoma. For the first time in a week, I feel like I might have a
chance to rejoin the human race.

“
Good news.” Knight slaps shut the
chart, then settles next to my bed. “Despite the lingering pain and
your inability to recall recent events, the concussion you
sustained is healing nicely.”

I feel the back of my head. Not as bad as I thought.
Thank heaven for thick hair.

When I don’t answer, he goes on. “As I said
yesterday when I was removing your bandages, this memory loss is
not unusual, so don’t worry too much about that now. Give yourself
some time—a couple of months usually does the trick.”

He studies me for a while, then says, “Still no idea
of what happened?”

My throat clamps shut. Damn him. He just said not to
worry—that it would take some time to remember. Why does he ask
something in the very next breath I know nothing about? I glare
back at him, hating him for asking, hating myself for not
remembering.

At first I was afraid I had lost everything. Well,
not everything, because I immediately recognized my parents. And my
past life through high school was completely intact.

Bit by bit, some of the rest has fallen in place.
I’m still a competent law practitioner who once shared some long,
nice kisses with Duncan.

I know Susie and Del married after Reena dumped him
and they have lots of boys. That Reena and Paul live on a huge
spread down the road from them. But there are so many blank
spots.

Knight presses on. “You don’t recall making a second
trip to Uvalde to attend your friend’s funeral?”

To hear about Reena’s death is still shocking, but I
shake my head. “No. I know Reena’s dead only because my parents
brought me the article in the paper. She was murdered.”

I take a deep breath, but the throat and chest are
still engaged. It’s panic. I know all the signs. The thought that
those months may be lost forever scares me senseless.

Knight probes again. “Do you remember getting to
Uvalde?” Though Duncan told me I met Reena for lunch at Rudi’s the
previous January, then flew home with her for the Martin Luther
King Holiday, I struggle to think of anything connected to Uvalde.
Nothing comes but more panic symptoms accompanied by intense
uneasiness. Hard as I try, I remember nothing. Now it’s mid-May.
I’ve lost four whole months.

“
Nice town, Uvalde. Real pretty
courthouse.” Knight’s trying to nudge me along, but it’s all a
blank.

I give him a baleful look. “If you say so.”

The room is starting to spin. There goes lunch.

He must read me, because he pats my hand and stands.
“Try to get some sleep. Rest is the best medicine.” He’s almost out
the door when he turns. “Might want to make a few plans. If
tomorrow and Friday go well, we’ll be releasing you Saturday. Too
bad your parents couldn’t stay.”

I rush to cover. “Dad has a big trial coming
up.”

In truth my mother’s growing litany of small
complaints was driving us crazy. Sitting in a hospital or a motel
room was such a bore. The cat needed tending. The plants were
probably already dead.

I saw Dad begin to cave under her relentless
onslaught and let him off the hook. After enlisting an eager
Duncan, I assured them I would be fine.

Duncan’s lips on mine pull me out of the darkness. I
check the clock on the wall. Almost five-thirty. I’ve managed to
put away six hours in dreamland, but there are no dreams, or none
that I remember.

“
They said you didn’t eat lunch.
That’s not good.”

“
Then tell Doctor Knight to keep
his damn light out of my face. I get nauseated every time he checks
my pupils.”

“
I will. But not right now. We
only have a few minutes before they bring dinner.” Duncan eases
onto the bed, then takes me in his arms and finds my
lips.

This has been his routine whenever we’ve been alone,
but I’m not at all comfortable with it. I have a private room, but
when has a room in the hospital ever been private?

I’ve grown used to his kisses, but still freak out
when his hand finds its way inside my hospital gown.

Duncan says he loves me and from the look on his
face, I believe him. But this is the scary part. I’m supposed to be
practically engaged to this man, yet he’s a borderline
stranger.

Knight’s voice echoes in my mind. “They did a rape
kit on you in Laredo. Standard procedure for female victims these
days. It was negative.”

That was a shocker, but the news was a relief, even
if I didn’t know just what I was a victim of.

I guess I’ve somehow signaled my reluctance, because
Duncan disengages his mouth from mine. “Bad day all the way
around?”

“
Yeah. Sorry. But I did get some
good news today. Doctor Knight’s releasing me on
Saturday.”

“
It’s about time. I’m surprised he
kept you so long.” “Doesn’t seem that long to me, it’s less than
two weeks.”

He cuddles me to him. “Seems like two years. We have
a lot to make up for.”

I feel safe in Duncan’s arms—as safe as I can be
under the circumstances.

“
I’m so scared.”

“
You’re going to be fine. You just
need to rest and take care of yourself for the next few
weeks.”

Actually, the timing of what happened is perfect. A
job offer from Perkins, Travis was among the messages Duncan picked
up off my answering machine followed by a confirming letter. Duncan
called them to explain my situation and they’re willing to wait
until I get my bearings.

The DA regretfully accepted my resignation with a
letter of commendation saying how well I performed my assignments
and wishing me the best of luck in my new job.

Frankly, I’m relieved I don’t have to go back to the
routine. The thought of handling drug drops and auto thefts is
somehow frightening, though I can’t exactly put my finger on the
reason.

Duncan kisses my throat. This has always been a
trigger for me. I can’t help but respond since I’m only human and I
suppose I must love him.

Duncan lets out a soft moan and moves away. “You’re
so tempting.”

“
Then don’t stop.” I pull him back
to me, wanting him to go on, needing to feel connected to
something—anything.

“
Believe me, I don’t want to stop.
But I’d like a better setting.” He gives me a gentle kiss before he
slides off the bed. “I have something for you.”

When he fishes in his jacket pocket and pulls out a
small black box, my heart thuds. A ring. He’s giving me a ring.
Panic blooms full force and my stomach rebels. There goes
dinner.

When my stomach begins to heave, I turn away.
“Allie, are you all right?”

I hear the love and concern in his voice and this
makes it worse. I don’t know how I feel about him. I don’t
remember. I can’t accept his ring. Not now.

“
Get a nurse. I’m going to be
sick.”

I’VE BEEN HOME ALMOST A WEEK and, though I’m still a
little wobbly, the headaches are diminishing.

I still haven’t a clue about the large gap in my
memory, nor strangely, am I particularly interested in finding out.
My reluctance puzzles me since I’m basically a very curious
person.

Susie’s number is written on the pad next to my
phone and I have lifted the receiver several times in the last
week, but I can’t seem to make the call. The minute my finger
touches the pad, I quickly hang up.

Remember what happened to the cat.

Who said that? I try to place the voice.
Nothing.

Since I tire easily and find sleep a welcome
release, I’ve hardly left my bed except to bathe.

There’s no ring on my finger and no further mention
made of it. I think Duncan finally realizes I need more time.
Though he’s continued the ritual he began in the hospital, he
remains fully clothed with the sheet and bedspread between us.

Sometimes he falls asleep beside me, exhausted from
the complicated case he’s trying with a dicey witness he’s afraid
will sour on him any minute. I feel a twinge of guilt because he
doesn’t need the added strain of trying to care for me.

This afternoon I went to see Dr. Knight, who assured
me I would soon regain my full strength, then cautioned me not to
push myself. I kept waiting for him to ask about the memory loss
but he must have forgotten. I was relieved when he didn’t because I
had no intention of bringing it up.

I took a cab to and from his office and collapsed on
my bed as soon as I got back. I must have fallen asleep because
it’s almost eight and twilight when I hear Duncan in the kitchen,
and do a little primping before I hurry to join him.