by Joanna Wayne
But right now he was her only link to her past, even if she didn’t remember him. But he surely hadn’t bargained for this when he’d come for a visit.
“Do you want to leave?” she asked.
“I want to do whatever makes you the most comfortable. But I won’t go far, not until you’re up and bossing us all around. Trust me, that won’t take long.”
“In that case, I’d like you to stay.”
He took her hand. “I’ll stay as long as you’ll let me. And that’s a promise.”
She fought back tears. She was bewildered and afraid, but at least she wasn’t alone. Her eyelids grew heavy in spite of the apprehension churning inside her.
As soon as she closed them, the drowning sensation returned, this time even stronger than before. The swirling water pulled her to the bottom.
As the breath escaped her lungs, a strong hand reached out to her. She held on tight and the cowboy pulled her to shore.
* * *
“HELLO, MEGHAN. I heard you wanted to talk to me.”
Another stranger had wandered into her dream. She tasted fear and reached for the stranger who’d pulled her to safety. Her arms came up empty.
“It’s Dr. Levy, Meghan. You’re safe. Open your eyes and I’ll answer all your questions.”
Dr. Levy. She fought her way back through the haze. This time when she opened her eyes she turned first to see if the cowboy was there or if he’d only been in her dream.
But he was there, standing next to the bed, his gaze fixed on her.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty. Your doctor is here.”
“Just as you requested,” a smiling nurse added.
She looked at the window. No light crept through the blinds. “Is it morning?”
“It’s three o’clock.”
“You’re Durk,” she said as the images and her thoughts slowly came into focus.
“Yes, I am, and this is Dr. Levy and Angela.”
She studied both of them. Only the nurse looked familiar.
“I hear you have lot of questions for me,” Dr. Levy said. “But maybe I can clear up some of what’s happened before you have to ask. Would you like for Angela to help you go to the bathroom before we get started?”
Now that he mentioned it, she did need to go. The prospect of getting her arms and legs coordinated made the task seem daunting even with Angela’s help.
“It’s only a few steps away,” Dr. Levy said, as if reading her mind. “I’ll tell you what, Durk and I will chat in the hallway and give you some privacy. Angela will let us know when you’re back in bed.”
“I need the answer to one question first,” she said. “Do I have brain damage?”
“No, you have a significant concussion that’s left you temporarily confused, a condition called retrograde amnesia. But your vital signs are good, as are your neuro signs other than the mental confusion. There’s absolutely no indication of any permanent damage.”
She took a deep breath and let the relief flood through her body. “That’s what I needed to hear,” she said. “But I do still have a few questions.”
“That’s a good sign,” Dr. Levy said.
Durk took her hand and squeezed it gently before he left the room with the doctor. She could learn to like that man—if she ever figured out who he was.
Angela took it slowly with her, having her sit up and then dangle her legs over the side of the bed for a good minute before progressing to standing. She was a bit shaky, but wasn’t nearly as unsteady as she’d feared.
Once she was erect, her thoughts seemed to clear a bit, though she still couldn’t get her mind around exactly why she was in this hospital.
“Just lean on me,” Angela encouraged her, “and we’ll take it slowly. Are you dizzy?”
“Not really dizzy,” she said, trying to be accurate. “I’m just a little unsteady.”
“You’re doing fine.” Angela led her to the bathroom.
Meghan stopped at the mirror and stared at the image looking back at her. The right side of her face was swollen and bruised. Her hair looked as if it had been sucked into a cement mixer. The knot she’d felt behind her left ear made her head look lopsided.
Her insides churned. “Now I’m dizzy,” she said. “And mortified. I look like a sun-baked alien.”
“The assailant did a number on you,” Angela said. “But give it a little time and the bruising and swelling will fade and you’ll be the Meghan of old.”
The Meghan of old. The Meghan she couldn’t remember. Even if they were friends, it was amazing the handsome cowboy hadn’t taken one look at her last night and run away screaming.
“Once your hair grows out, you won’t even be able to see where the staples were.”
“When my hair grows out?”
“They had to shave the area that required surgical staples to close the cuts.”
So now she’d have bald spots in the middle of the back of her head. How much worse could this get?
Holding on to the basin with one hand, she turned on the water with the other and slid her hand beneath the cool flow. She splashed some on her face and then dabbed a bit onto her bangs. She smoothed the worst of the wild mass as best she could.
“I’ll help you get cleaned up later,” Angela offered. “Though you can’t shampoo the hair yet. But right now we should let you talk to Dr. Levy.”
Meghan murmured her agreement and gratefully looked away from the mirror. She pushed thoughts of her looks aside as she finished up in the bathroom and with Angela’s help climbed back in the bed.
She had bigger concerns to deal with. Like where her memory had gone and who had attacked her and why. She didn’t know about the old Meghan, but she wasn’t going to take this lying down.
At least not once she could stand on her own two feet without assistance.
* * *
“HER NEUROLOGIST SAYS that temporary memory loss is common after a severe concussion,” Durk explained to his brother Damien over a poor phone connection. “Loss of memory of events that happened immediately before or after the injury or within a few hours either way of the event.”
“So Meghan doesn’t remember anything before the attack?” Damien questioned.
“I wish that were it. At this point, she has complete loss of memory before last night. She didn’t even recognize her own name at first.”
“Then she doesn’t remember you?”
“That’s right, and that might be better for the time being. I’ve told her we’re friends but haven’t mentioned that we were ever more than that or that we haven’t spoken in two years. By the way, I haven’t mentioned to Mother that we were ever more than friends, either. Let’s leave it that way for now.”
“Isn’t Mother sitting beside you now?”
“She’s gone to refill our coffee cups.”
Durk shifted the phone to his other ear. He’d just gone through all of this with her over breakfast in the hospital cafeteria. But when Damien had called, she’d handed her phone over to Durk to supply the pertinent details to him about what was going on with Meghan.
As expected, his mother had already shared the facts surrounding the attack and murder with both of his brothers. Not that he minded. If she hadn’t, he would have. He and his brothers had always been there for each other when there was a problem.
And this was one hell of a problem.
Besides, both of his brothers had met Meghan when, at Durk’s recommendation, Tague had hired her to help in an investigation. Meghan had impressed the hell out of them. Durk’s new sister-in-law had been awed by her abilities, and the women had bonded immediately. For all Durk knew, they might have stayed in contact with each other.
He’d definitely check that out just in case Meghan had said something to Alexis that might give him some insight into the crimes.
“Is the doctor certain the amnesia is temporary?” Damien asked.
“He seems convinced that there’s no permanent physical reason for the memory loss
. But, as he said, emotional issues can also be a factor, and they’re much more difficult to predict.”
“Does Meghan know her assistant was murdered?”
“I haven’t told her. I didn’t figure she needed that kind of emotional trauma when she doesn’t even know there was an assistant or what he assisted her in doing.”
“Does that mean she hasn’t been questioned by the police?”
“Not yet, but Detective Sam Smart has been assigned to head up the murder case. He looks like a playboy who needs a makeover, but he barks like a bulldog. He won’t let the doctor keep him away long.”
“Does the detective have any leads?”
“None that he’s shared with me,” Durk admitted. “I haven’t talked to him today, though I’m sure I’m still on his radar.”
“Why are you on his radar?”
Durk explained the situation.
“Having your fingerprints on the murder weapon is no laughing matter, Durk. You need to get a lawyer.”
“On the possible murder weapon. And here comes Mother with our refill,” he said, cuing Damien that it was time for a change in subject matter. “But I’ll give your suggestion some thought.”
“You should. How is Meghan doing other than the memory problems?”
“Her physical recovery is going great.”
“And Meghan’s sister is okay with you taking over this way?”
“I think Lucy is just relieved to have someone who cares about Meghan on top of things.”
“And you’re that someone?”
“No one else has stepped up to the plate.”
“No current boyfriend?”
“Haven’t heard from one as yet,” Durk admitted, though there was no reason to think Meghan wasn’t dating. But if there was a significant other, he figured Lucy would have mentioned him when he’d called her earlier this morning to thank her for adding his name to the privacy forms.
“So what’s your next move?” Damien asked.
“I’m definitely staying in Dallas until Meghan rebounds and will probably spend most of my time at the hospital today. The nurse ran me out of the ward while Meghan gets showered and cleaned up. But I told the doctor that I want to be there when Meghan has to talk to Detective Smart. That will likely be later today.”
“Tague has to come into Dallas on business this morning,” Damien said. “He’ll likely stop by the hospital. And I’m available, too, if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“I don’t know what it would be unless you have a suggestion for a way to jog Meghan’s memory.”
“What about pictures? Do you have any snapshots that you took when the two of you were dating?”
None that he hadn’t put through the shredder. Getting over Meghan had been difficult enough without having those around to torment him.
“No snapshots,” he said.
“Meghan must have some at her condo. Pictures of her with friends, her sister, probably even some that go back a few years. They might help. Do you have a key to her condo?”
“Actually, I do.” Not that he’d ever expected to use it again. “Thanks for the input, bro. I think I will stop by the condo and see what I can come up with.”
“Better check with Detective Smart before you visit the crime scene, especially now that the attack is connected to a murder.”
“Asking permission always runs the risk of hearing ‘no.’”
“Not that you’d ever let a word stop you.”
“No, but giving Smart a reason to arrest me doesn’t seem the best way to start the day.”
“Nor does getting involved in a murder in any way. Finding the perp is the detective’s job. Just keep that in mind, Durk.”
“I hear you.” For what that was worth. “Talk to you later. Now I gotta run.” He had pictures to collect. And a visit to the condo where he’d spent some of the most exciting and unforgettable nights of his life.
* * *
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Durk pulled into the parking garage attached to Meghan’s high-rise complex. He noted the cameras that monitored his movements and those of anyone else entering or leaving via the garage. He was fairly certain the film from yesterday was already in the hands of Detective Smart. Hopefully it held valuable clues as to the identity of the attacker Meghan had yet to recall.
Her memories were suppressed. Durk’s were far too potent as he pressed the magnetic key into the door that opened into the first-floor hallway.
A midnight swim in the rooftop pool followed by hours of making love. Slow dancing on the moonlit private balcony to a country ballad with Meghan dressed only in a pair of red Western boots that he’d had made for her.
Reveries that he didn’t need now.
He took the elevator to the fifth floor, an elevator that was also equipped with security cameras. Oddly, he remembered thinking how protected the condo was the first time he’d come here with Meghan.
It had given him an obviously false sense of Meghan’s safety. Not that safety had been a major concern of hers. She’d frequently assured him she could take care of herself and that she was always packin’.
But where was her gun when the attacker showed up? He should have been the one who was shot and left to die in a pool of his own blood.
The elevator bell clanged, the door opened and Durk stepped out just as Bill Mackey was about to step in.
“Just the man I need to talk to,” Durk said, putting out a hand to the muscular brute of a guy he’d mostly seen in passing. They’d engaged in exactly one actual conversation before this.
Bill shook his hand with a bodybuilder’s grip as the elevator left without him. “Haven’t run into you around here in years,” Bill said. “I guess you must have heard what happened to Meghan last night.”
“I did. In fact, I just left the hospital.”
“How is she?”
“She has a concussion and has a nice little goose egg on her head, but she’s going to be fine.”
“Thank God. That son of a bitch would have killed her if I hadn’t shown up when I did. I saw him bash her head against the wall.”
“Did you get a good look at him?”
“No, but I got a piece of him. I would have finished the thug off if he hadn’t got in one lucky punch.”
“Tell me what you saw after you arrived on the scene.”
“The guy had Meghan pinned to the wall with his body. He had his fist pulled back and was about to punch her in the face when I rushed in. I ordered the yellow-bellied woman-killer to get his hands off her and take on me.”
“Then what happened?”
“He got one look at me and he was ready to run. He took hold of Meghan’s shoulders and bashed her head against the wall. Then he turned and pointed a Taser at me.”
“Did you see a pistol?”
“No. All he had was a Taser.”
“Did he use that on you?”
“He would have. Before he could, Meghan kicked him and ruined his aim. I wrestled it from his hand and tossed it across the room.”
“What was Meghan doing during this time?”
“When I saw her she was just lying on the floor. I think she was unconscious, probably from having her head bashed into the wall. But she’d still managed to get in that kick that kept him from Tasering me before she passed out. She’s a fighter.”
“She is that. Any chance you can identify the assailant?”
“No. I tried to yank off his mask, but that was when he got his one lucky punch below the belt. I staggered backward and the punk coward took off like the devil himself was at his heels.”
“Did you go after him?”
“No. I figured getting an ambulance for Meghan was more urgent.”
“A good call,” Durk agreed. “Did you see any identifying characteristics on the attacker? A tattoo? A scar? Any kind of prominent mole, birthmark or disfigurement?”
“No. Detective Smart already asked me all of that. About all I can tell you is that he was over six feet
tall and muscular. And he’s a white guy. That I can guarantee since I saw his fists up close and personal.”
“I see the evidence,” Durk said, eyeing a nasty bruise below Bill’s right eye, proof that the guy had gotten in at least one punch far above the waist, too.
“I still don’t understand how the guy got into the building,” Bill said. “Management keeps stressing how secure the complex is when talking to prospective buyers.”
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Durk said. It was a meaningless cliché. His mind had already moved on to other considerations, like why the man had used a stun gun on Meghan and tried to use one on Bill when he’d used a bullet on Ben Conroe.
Bill reached over and pressed the call button for the elevator. “Any idea when Meghan will be coming home?”
“The doctor hasn’t said.”
“Tell her I asked about her.”
“Will do.”
The elevator showed up and this time Bill did step inside it. There had been no mention of Ben’s death. Evidently Bill had bypassed all the local news media that morning.
Questions about the vile perpetrator and why he’d targeted Meghan persisted as Durk stalked down the hallway toward Meghan’s door. As expected, it was crisscrossed with police crime scene tape. Durk moved the tape, inserted his key and stepped inside.
His insides recoiled at the scene, obviously left pretty much as the cops had found it. An end table was overturned, its contents resting among shards of broken glass from a shattered vase. The lamp that had stood next to her sofa was overturned and broken.
Fingerprint powder dusted the surface of tabletops and the floor. A stringent odor he didn’t recognize hung heavy in the air, no doubt some chemical used by the CSU in their quest for clues. Their search would have been much more intense than usually provided for an unarmed attack since it was connected to a murder, as well.
A sickening feeling churned in Durk’s stomach when his gaze fell on the blood stains that darkened the wall next to the balcony door. He imagined the brutal bastard bashing Meghan’s head into the wall. This time the wave of fury was so strong it made him nauseous.
There was no way Meghan could come home to this until after the police tape was removed and the place was cleaned up.