by Judy Duarte
After parking in front of the two-story brick building next to the courthouse, she entered the office.
Deputy Lester Brophy was on duty, and when he spotted her, he got up from his desk near the file cabinets and approached the counter to greet her. “Well, hello there, Dr. Nielson. What can I do to help you?”
“I was wondering if you had any information on that mugging a couple of weeks ago at the Stagecoach Inn. The victim was a man in his late twenties or early thirties, and his injuries landed him in the hospital a couple of days. He’s also suffering from amnesia.”
“John Doe,” Lester said.
“That’s the one.”
The deputy lifted his hat and scratched his balding head. “I’m afraid there’s not much for us to go on. All we found out was that he was asking about a guy named Pedro Salas.”
“Do you know who that is?”
Lester shrugged. “Not for sure. Joaquin Salas lives up at Clemson Ridge with his wife and kids. We talked to him, and it seems he’s got an uncle by the name of Pedro, but we don’t know if it’s the guy John Doe was asking about.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Just that Pedro lost his wife and his son in a fire about ten years ago. And after that, he went off the deep end.”
“What do you mean?”
“Apparently, he’s an alcoholic and has a hard time staying employed. Last they heard, he was working in California. He called his nephew after he got fired for drinking on the job and asked if he could come back to Texas and stay with him. But Joaquin told him he’d have to dry out first. And they haven’t heard anything else from him.”
Betsy leaned her hip against the counter. “What else do you know?”
“That night at the Stagecoach Inn, John Doe got into a tussle with Slim Ragsdale and Bobby Wolford.”
“Did he cause the fight?”
“Nope. Slim and Bobby are a couple of troublemakers who’ve had run-ins with the law on several occasions-vagrancy, disturbing the peace, that sort of thing. But without any witnesses to the mugging, we can’t do much about it. And if you talk to Bobby and Slim, they’ll try to convince you that they left the bar and went straight to choir practice.”
“And that’s it?”
Lester nodded.
“No missing person reports?”
“Not in our office or in Wexler. But we’ve been pretty shorthanded since Hank Rawlings went out on disability and haven’t checked with the other counties.”
So Betsy didn’t know much more than she already did, other than Pedro Salas had a drinking problem. And he and Jason might both be from California.
“Anything else I can help you with?” Lester asked.
“No, that’s it for now. Thanks.”
As Betsy started for the door, her shoulders sank under the weight of the answers she’d been given, answers that only served to trigger more questions.
Why would a well-dressed man go into a honky-tonk looking for a drunk? And why would he set off a couple of local troublemakers?
Apparently, whatever keys to Jason’s identity lay far away from Brighton Valley. And if she knew what was good for her, she’d get out while she could.
Chapter Eleven
Jason tossed and turned until about two that morning. And when he finally fell asleep, he didn’t rest long. A dream of automobiles crashing into each other, glass shattering and air bags deploying tore into his slumber, shaking him to the core.
But most disturbing of all was that sound of a woman’s cries. Be careful!
I’m pregnant.
Don’t hurt the baby. Please…
Then she shrieked, as if she were being torn in two, and Jason shot up in bed. His heart was pounding like a runaway train, and his skin was cold and clammy.
“Damn,” he uttered, his breaths coming out in short, ragged huffs.
He raked his fingers through his hair and scanned the darkened room, needing to assure himself that the accident hadn’t really happened.
Surely the nocturnal vision had only been a figment of his sleep-deprived imagination. But it had been all too real to be sure.
If the goose bumps on his arms had any significance whatsoever, it could be an eerie premonition.
Or had it been an actual memory that had been triggered by the conversations he’d had with his brothers?
He blinked his eyes, trying to recall the details of his unsettling dream.
There’d been an intersection, a blinding glare. A car speeding by. Metal slamming upon metal. Mangled vehicles spun this way and that.
A blonde in her early thirties sat in the driver’s seat of a minivan. A jagged gash marred the side of her head, and shards of glass littered her blood-matted hair.
Tears streamed down her face as paramedics and firefighters worked on the vehicle, using the Jaws of Life to cut her out of the crushed metallic prison that held her body captive and refused to let go.
Who was she? The only blonde in his life that he was even vaguely aware of was Katrina, the woman he’d been dating. Was she the injured driver? Was she expecting a baby?
And if so, was it his baby?
Is that how Jason figured into all of it?
He might have told his brothers not to worry, that his memory was coming back. But clearly, some things were still lost to him.
Another wave of confusion swept over him as he tried to remember the life he’d once lived.
A sprawling home with an ocean view. A black Mercedes in the driveway. A closet full of suits. A calendar full of meetings and charity events.
Bits and pieces were all he had. But the only life that kept coming back to him, the one that made sense, was the one he’d recently stumbled upon in Brighton Valley. The one he’d found with Betsy.
But if there was a woman he’d been seeing, a woman who might be pregnant, then getting involved with Betsy was wrong. And making love to her, as sweet as it had been, was the last thing he should have done.
His gut clenched at the thought of giving her up, of letting her go. He’d come to care too deeply for her. Hell, he might even love her. But his life was getting more complicated by the minute, and it wasn’t fair dragging her into his mess.
Maybe what he needed to do was to go to California, where his life made sense again. Where he could make some decisions based upon fact.
Going back to sleep was out of the question now, so he got out of bed and padded into the bathroom, where he showered. The hot water pounded his neck and back and the steam swirled around him.
As confused as he was, as uneasy as he was about leaving Brighton Valley and all he’d found here, the past was clearly calling him home. Maybe in San Diego, when he was immersed in familiar surroundings, everything would fall into place.
He sure hoped so. The alternative-eternal uncertainty-wasn’t going to cut it.
After getting dressed, he went to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. While he waited for it to brew, he checked the dialing history and called his brother.
Not Michael, though.
He couldn’t explain why or how he knew it, but it was David he went to when he had a problem. David who came to him for the same reason.
His brother answered on the fourth ring, his voice groggy and sleep-laden. “Yeah?”
“David?”
A pause. “Jason? What’s up, man?”
“Did I wake you?”
Another pause. A glance at the clock? “Damn. It’s three in the morning. I’m not sure where you are, but if it’s in Texas, there’s got to be a two-hour time difference between us.”
Jason blew out a sigh. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t think. I’ve only been firing on a few cylinders lately.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m coming home, Davey. But I need money.”
“You got it. I’ll wire whatever you need first thing this morning.”
“I’m going to fly home today, too.”
“I’ll send the corporate jet for you.
It was out of commission yesterday, but it should be ready to go today. Where’s the closest airport?”
“Wexler, Texas, I think.”
“You got it.”
“Davey?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry for waking you up.”
“Since when?” his brother asked, a hint of humor sparking his sleep-graveled voice. “We’ve been covering each other’s butts for as long as we’ve been walking and talking.”
That was good to know.
Real good.
“So how’s life in Texas?” Davey asked. “Did you get a chance to play cowboy?”
“Just a little.”
“Good. Ever since we moved into the house in Rancho Vista, you wanted to work with horses.” He had?
“Do you remember riding on those equestrian trails near the beach?”
Jason thought for a moment, the memory clicking. Their parents had purchased an estate in an exclusive area near the ocean with two-to five-acre parcels that were zoned for horses. All three of the boys had learned to ride, although their time was also taken up with schoolwork, sports and girls.
“Yes,” Jason said, “I remember.”
He’d actually tossed around the idea of attending the University of California at Davis and majoring in animal science or something in the agricultural field. But Mike had talked him out of it, saying a business major at USC, their dad’s alma mater, was the only way to go for a future executive at Alvarez Industries.
“So what time do you want the jet at the airport?” David asked. “Best case scenario, it’s going to be at least nine before they can even take off.”
“Let’s shoot for about one o’clock my time.”
“You got it.”
As the call ended, Jason realized that it was a good thing he’d woken up early. He had to get busy if he intended to fly home today.
First, he’d have to hire someone to look out for Doc’s place while he was gone. That would have presented a problem for him, but while he’d been at the feed store yesterday, the proprietor had mentioned that his son was home from college and looking for work over winter break.
The kid’s first job would be to drive Jason to the airport in Wexler, although they’d have to stop by the hospital on the way. Jason needed to let the accounting department know that he had medical insurance and that he would forward that information to them shortly. Then he would go up to the third floor and visit Doc.
He was going to thank the man for everything he’d done. He’d also assure him that someone would take care of the ranch while Jason was gone. He wasn’t sure when or even if he’d be back. But either way, he’d find someone permanent to step in when the student returned to college.
The last thing Jason planned to do was to talk to Betsy. And that visit was going to be tough. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to her. He had to either end things or put their relationship on hold, no matter how much she’d come to mean to him.
But going back to San Diego was his only option, even if he didn’t know what it would bring.
Just talking to Davey had caused more of his memories to surface. A picture had begun to form, and it was finally starting to make sense. He’d recalled the closeness he and David had shared, the house on Derby Lane in which they’d grown up, the horses they used to ride.
Everything Jason owned, everything he was-his life, his identity-was in California. So he had no choice; he had to go back.
He even had a game plan for leaving and seemed to have his proverbial ducks in a row. But that didn’t change what he felt for Betsy.
Nor did it make saying goodbye any easier.
The E.R. was pretty quiet, even for a Tuesday morning, so Betsy decided to take advantage of the lull.
She’d just stopped by the break room to pour herself a cup of coffee when Kay Henderson, one of the volunteers, poked her head in the door. “Doctor, there’s a guy in the waiting room claiming to be your friend and asking to see you. He says his name is Jason Alvarez, but that you know him as John Doe.”
Her heart soared at the news. Had he come to tell her his life had all come together? That he had things to share with her, things that she could pin her heart on?
But she feared that wasn’t the case and braced herself for the worst.
After pouring out her coffee into the sink and running the water to rinse it down the drain, she tossed away the disposable cup and went to hear what John Doe aka Jason Alvarez had to say. But once she reached the receptionist’s window and spotted him standing near the door, words weren’t necessary. She could see the solemn expression on his face.
Whatever he had to say wasn’t going to be good, at least not from her perspective. But she may as well get it over with.
“Kay,” she said to the volunteer covering for the receptionist, “will you please tell Dawn that I’m going outside for a few minutes. I’ll be near the rose garden if she needs me.”
“Of course, Doctor.”
Then Betsy went out into the waiting room to talk to Jason.
He was wearing a pair of jeans and one of the shirts she’d bought him, which made her think that maybe she was wrong. That maybe he wasn’t going to morph back into a stranger.
“I came to tell you that my memory is coming back,” he said. “And that I have to leave.”
Her heart cracked at the news, but she put on her doctor game-face. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“That I’m leaving?”
No. Not that. Yet she forced herself to remain stoical. To pretend that she was giving a patient’s family bad news and that she had to be strong, detached.
She nodded toward the entrance. “Let’s go outside and talk privately.”
“Okay.” He followed her out the door, then they turned right and took the sidewalk to the rose garden that provided people with a refuge from the pain and suffering that went on behind the walls of the hospital and a place to pray or meditate.
“I know these past few weeks have been difficult for you,” she said, stopping beside one of the concrete benches. “And you must have family and friends who were worried about you.”
He nodded. “I don’t remember them all. But it’s coming back.”
Don’t ask about a wife or a lover, she told herself. And whatever you do, don’t you dare cry.
“I’m an executive with Alvarez Industries,” he explained. “It’s a family business.”
An executive, she thought. That explained the nice clothing, the education he seemed to have. But it still left a lot of questions, most of which would probably remain unanswered as far as she was concerned.
“I’m glad it’s all come back to you,” she said.
He skipped over that, saying, “I owe you a lot, Betsy. And I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You already did.” She thought of the memories he’d left her with, the evenings on the porch, the dinner at Cara Mia, the wonderful nights they’d spent making love.
“I’ve settled up with the accounting office,” he added, as if remembering her concerns about the hospital’s financial situation. “I gave them my insurance information and an address where they can send a bill for my share of the cost.”
“That’s good.” She stood as tall as her petite frame would allow, even though she wanted to crumple to the ground and bawl her eyes out.
“About the other night,” he began.
“Don’t give it another thought.” She forced a straight face, then felt it weaken when curiosity about his marital status won out. “Unless you found out that you have a wife.”
“I did at one time,” he said, “but I’m divorced.”
She felt momentarily relieved until he added, “But I’m not sure if I’m committed to anyone or not. And until…”
“I understand.” A cool breeze ruffled past her, leaving goose bumps in its wake. “But for the record, I’m okay with what we did. We both needed the release.”
“Is that all it was to you?” His gaze snar
ed hers, demanding honesty.
But she couldn’t be truthful. Not when their lovemaking had been so much more than sex to her. Not when she’d fallen in love with him.
She could kick herself for letting it happen, but she hadn’t been able to stop the inevitable.
Her rational side tried to shake some sense into her, insisting that she’d fallen in love with John Doe, a man who wasn’t real. That he and Jason Alvarez had very little in common other than the body they shared.
But boy, oh boy, what a body that had been-the olive skin, those blue eyes, that crooked grin. The broad chest, taut abs…
And now that he was standing in front of her, looking every bit like the man who’d held her in his arms, who’d kissed her senseless, who’d put dreams in her heart once again, she felt a wave of remorse at losing him and what they’d once shared, even if he-and it-hadn’t been real.
Still, her rational side popped up again, explaining why it had happened: she’d needed the respite from her troubles and worries for as long as it had lasted.
Of course, her heart wasn’t buying it.
John Doe had made her feel like a woman again, instead of a doctor. And he’d healed something deep within her, even though she should have been the one doing the healing.
And now he was leaving-as Jason Alvarez, a stranger again.
She didn’t know what to think. But the sooner she could send him on his way and get control of her life and her emotions again, the better.
“What we had together was good,” he said.
Her phony, don’t-think-I’m-not-dying-inside smile cracked a little, matching the break in her heart. “But it was never meant to last, Jason. We both knew that.”
He glanced at his feet, at the rugged work boots she’d purchased for him when he’d first gone to live on Doc’s ranch. And she wondered why he wasn’t wearing those Italian loafers and the expensive clothes he’d had on when he came to town.
For a moment, she hoped that he was taking a little bit of Brighton Valley back to California with him. A little bit of…her.