Peppermint Creek Inn (25 page)

“He might be dropping by soon. Speaking about him, can I use your phone to make a collect call?” Maybe she could get a hold of Jo.

“Sorry, hon, but the phones are still out all over town. According to Justin, the storms caused a lot of damage. I’d loan you my cell phone but I gave it to Sue. Her hubby is away on business and she’s all alone with the babies. I do believe Justin has a cell though. I’m sure he’d be glad to loan it to you.”

Widow McCloud smiled sweetly and Sara couldn’t help but tense at the thought of seeing Justin again.

“Thanks. I’ll see if I can track him down,” she lied.

“So, when do you think Garry might be dropping by? Any specific day?”

“Sorry, I’m really not sure.” The sooner, the better. “But the next time I speak to him, I’ll definitely let him know you were asking about him. I really have to go now. Next time I’ll buy you a cup of tea and we’ll catch up on things.”

Mrs. McCloud brightened immensely. “That’ll be a real treat, dear. But can’t you wait a moment for a check for your products?”

“I’ll catch you next time. Bye,” Sara waved and practically ran over the elderly couple who had entered the store moments earlier.

—

Tom stuffed the tiny present he’d bought for Sara into the pocket of his raincoat and whipped the raincoat hood snugly over his head before stepping out of the hobby shop into the chilly downpour.

He’d been up all night, pacing back and forth through the house, trying like the devil himself to figure out what those visions of blood and flashing lights meant and also trying to conjure up a way out of this mess without Sara getting hurt, when he’d found the carton of blonde hair color in the upstairs bathroom and promptly cut his hair and given himself a dye job.

He had to admit, he now looked totally different as a clean-shaven blond. Far different than the scruffy character with whiskers when he’d first shown up at Sara’s home.

Nonetheless, it was best he kept a low profile, grabbing the things he needed before hoofing it back to their agreed meeting place just outside of town as soon as possible.

He smiled as he spotted Sara’s truck still parked outside the hardware store. She was grabbing the items from the list he’d given her of the things he’d used in order to keep supplies on hand back at the inn for emergencies this season. As he walked, he kept his gaze glued to the hardware store’s front door in hopes of catching a glimpse of Sara coming out. Doing so, he almost bumped into a tall dark-haired man standing right outside the hobby shop door.

“Excuse me,” Tom said politely as he tried to sidestep him.

“Haven’t seen you in these parts before.”

The familiar voice froze him solid. Through the downpour he made out the dark framed glasses, the moustache.

Shit!

“Name is Jeffries. Officer Justin Jeffries.”

I know who you are
, he wanted to spit in the cop’s face. But that wouldn’t solve his problem. Obviously, the cop wasn’t going to let him go. He’d just introduced himself and Tom realized he had two options. Be stupid and polite and face him head-on. Or else be smart and run.

Tom opted for the first. After all, he had the hood covering his newly dyed and cut hair, and he was one beard and one mustache less now.

He turned around slowly, preparing to defend himself, but to his cautious surprise, the cop extended his hand.

Blinking the rain out of his eyes, he shook hands with the cop.

“Howdy.” Tom said casually, hoping the shakiness traveling like lightning speed through him wouldn’t show up in his voice. “Name’s Smith. Tom Smith.”

The man openly stared at Tom. “You related to Garry Smith?”

He shifted uncomfortably under Jeffries’ curious gaze.

“Nope.”

“Just visiting?” The cop’s cold voice dropped a chilly shiver upon Tom’s spine.

“Passing through,” he replied.

Jeffries’ eyes squinted narrowly behind his rain-spattered glasses and Tom suddenly realized Jeffries might not be able to see him clearly or have an idea who he was talking to. On the other hand, he might. Tom didn’t miss the cop’s right hand snake smoothly to his holstered gun.

“You look a bit familiar to me. Have we met somewhere?”

Those words froze Tom’s smile. “Don’t think so. Never been in these parts before.”

The answer seemed to satisfy Jeffries and he nodded and his hand flew away from his holster, he saluted and turned on his heel.

Tom watched warily as the cop strolled casually down the sidewalk. He’d been lucky Jeffries hadn’t recognized him. The rain had been his savior today. But how long before Jeffries figured out why he looked so familiar? One hour? One day? How long before Cran Simcoe decided to spill his guts and tell a friend that Sara had a stranger living out there with her?

He cursed softly beneath his breath.

He’d been crazy to even flirt with the idea of leaving Sara. He would have to try again to persuade her to seek safety somewhere else. And if her stubborn pride got in his way and she refused to leave, then he’d have to stay and protect her himself, because there was no way in hell he was leaving her alone.

—

“How does a person get amnesia?”

Dr. Smokey McKay’s dark gray eyes narrowed with curiosity as she leaned forward in her creaky old overstuffed leather chair and shoved the pen she’d been using to scribble notes on a patient’s chart, behind her ear.

“Why are you so interested in amnesia all of a sudden, Sara? Has this something to do with your memory confusions when Jack was murdered? Or is it something else?”

Sara swallowed hard and squirmed uncomfortably under Smokey’s intense gaze. The woman knew Sara so well. She could almost feel herself blurting out about Tom and decided against it. She knew without a doubt she could trust the shrink, but it was best not to get her involved.

“Actually, um, I’m thinking of writing an article about my experience. That’s all.”

“That’s all, huh,” Smokey said doubtfully. “I know you too well, Sara. Something’s going on isn’t it?”

Sara laughed nervously. “My God, I’ve only asked you one question. How can you be so interested in one lousy question?”

“Because, Sara, you are positively glowing. Something happen to you over the winter? Have you met someone?”

Sara shifted uneasily. The question had caught her off guard.

“I’m just doing some research for Garry that’s all. Nothing suspicious about that.”

“Writing? Or research? Which is it? Besides I didn’t say there was anything suspicious about your question,” Smokey replied gently. “Why are you being so defensive?”

Sara grabbed her purse off the desk. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, Smoke. Just forget I asked.”

“Wait!” Smokey urged. “I’m your doctor. If you have questions, I’m obligated to answer. You don’t have to tell me why you want to know. I’m sorry for being so pushy. It’s just you’ve changed so much, Sara. You look so alive. Healthy. I’m just surprised. Please have a seat. I won’t ask any more questions.”

Sara sighed and plopped back down on the chair. If she’d known Smokey would get so suspicious, she’d never have come to her for help. She knew she should tell her. Tell her everything about Tom. His amnesia. How attracted she was to him. How she wished he’d make love to her. Sara shook the racy thoughts from her head as Smokey spoke.

“I know dealing with memory is very tricky,” she said. “And every case of amnesia is unique. What exactly do you want to know?”

Sara’s grip tightened on her purse. “How does someone get amnesia?”

“We still don’t know everything about it, but people can get amnesia in a variety of ways. A serious illness, a blow to the head or as you well know some sort of mental trauma can make a person block out certain aspects of their life. What specific questions do you need answered?”

“This is a strictly hypothetical question, of course.”

“Of course.” Smokey smiled and urged Sara to continue.

“If someone say—killed someone and didn’t remember it or anything else for that matter, what are the chances of his ever regaining his entire memory back?”

“It depends. If the person is deliberately blocking out something because it’s too painful to remember, for example killing someone, it’s called psychological or defensive amnesia, whereas the memory is being suppressed unconsciously not deliberately.

“He may say he wants to remember, but in fact really doesn’t because his life is so pleasant at the moment he fears the memory return may complicate matters. Whereas if the amnesia is caused by head trauma, the memories may return with time or may never return, depending on the severity of the case.

“Either way the longer the person has amnesia, the worse the chances are of regaining their memory.”

“And what happens when they regain their memory? Will he remember what happened to him during the period he was lost?”

“When a person has amnesia they are in what we in fact call the ‘fugue state’. The person has no recollection of who they are or where they come from. Certain aspects of their lives are retained such as foods they like, traffic laws, how to walk, how to talk, things like that.

“The person who has amnesia will go on living, making new memories and sometimes the fugue state dissolves allowing the person to remember who he is and where he came from. They can return to their normal lives again.

“But will they remember what happened during a fugue state? It depends on the individual, and again it depends on how long the amnesia lasted. The longer it goes on, the poorer the chances of even remembering what happened in a fugue state.”

She had the answer she was looking for. There was a chance Tom wouldn’t remember who she was when he regained his memory. The horrible thought made her feel like crying. But she didn’t. Instead, Sara squared her shoulders defiantly. She wouldn’t think about it. She couldn’t.

Smokey leaned forward in her chair, her eyes narrowing. “There’s a case I had when I was living down in Florida. You could use it for your article or research, if you’re interested.”

“Sure. Tell me.”

“A woman and her family went down to Mexico for a trip. One day her husband took the kids shopping and she decided to settle under a palm tree to read a book. She was reading when suddenly a coconut fell on her head. She couldn’t remember who she was or where she came from. She wandered away from the hotel and was reported missing.

“Eight years later, she reappeared at the same hotel, her previous memories totally intact. She believed she had just returned from sitting under the coconut tree. Much to the woman’s surprise, her family wasn’t there.

“She went home to discover her two children were almost teenagers and her husband had declared her dead and remarried. Making matters worse, he married her very own best friend.” Smokey shook her head. Her reddish brown curls bounced with wonder. “Needless to say, their lives were totally turned upside down. Eventually the husband did go back to his first wife. And then after a few months, a man showed up on the woman’s front door claiming to be her husband. Apparently she’d married during her fugue state and had two more children.”

“You mean she didn’t remember remarrying or having any more children when she regained her memory?”

“She remembered nothing. As I said, she thought she’d only returned from her vacation. Tests were made to determine if the children were hers and all results pointed she was indeed the mother. But she was unable to be their mother because all maternal instinct had been wiped out.”

Sara bit her lower lip trying hard not to show any emotion as Smokey watched her curiously.

If Tom regained his full memory, there was a chance he wouldn’t even know who she was. And he might also have another family out there waiting for him to come home. A family who loved him.

And if there was a family out there? Could she let Tom go?

Could she pretend he never existed and move on with her life? Or would she return to those horribly depressing months she’d fought so hard to overcome after her own family’s destruction?

—

Queens, New York…

Garry and Jo stared through the ten-foot-high chain-link fence at the abandoned-looking red brick building housed smack-dab in the industrial section of Queens, New York.

“This is definitely the address,” Jo said. “ My memory might not be the greatest but I’m one hundred percent sure this is the place.”

She winked at Garry as she held up her palm to show him where she’d rewritten the address.

Garry’s forehead wrinkled in surprise. “I thought you flushed it down the toilet.”

“I did. But not before writing it down somewhere else.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Hey, you never know. You might wake up one day with amnesia or something.”

Garry smiled as he continued to eye the building. “Looks deserted. Kind of spooky. Not a place to be hanging around, even in broad daylight.” He wheeled his wheelchair closer to the fence. “Do you think we’ve been scammed?”

Jo shook her head. “For a place that looks abandoned they sure have a fancy security system.” She pointed to the overhang over the front door. “And a high-tech surveillance camera.”

Garry cocked a curious eyebrow as he spied the shiny camera scanning them.

“Why don’t you sit tight, Garry, while I check this out.” With a sudden burst of speed, Jo leaped up the fence, her fingers grasping the chain links.

“What are you doing, Jo?” Garry shouted from behind her.

“Trying to see if anyone is home,” she yelled back as she scrambled monkey-style up the fence and down the other side.

Within a minute she stood at the front door gazing at the number pad encased in cement in the wall.

“Now why would someone have such fancy gadgets in this neck of the woods,” she mumbled beneath her breath. Jo reached into her back pocket and withdrew her wallet.

“Careful, Jo,” Garry shouted. “I know what you’re thinking of doing.”

Jo winked at Garry as she withdrew her credit card. “This should get us some action,” she said. In one quick fluid motion, she swiped the card through the swiper and punched in a few random numbers.