by Linda Style
“You don’t remember prison?” Her voice rose with the same incredulous tone as the look in her ever widening eyes.
He shook his head, ran his good hand through his hair. “Nope. I don’t remember anything. I’ve tried to, but I can’t, not even the family I was told I had. I can’t bring up a single name.” He looked deep into Tori’s eyes, hoping something would come. Nada. Nothing. “They told me you and I are good friends, but I’m sorry, I don’t remember you, either.”
“But…the nurses said you asked to see me.”
“Yeah. They told me you’d been here every day, and I thought if I saw you…if we’d been really good friends, it would help. I thought I might remember something.”
She blinked. Didn’t say anything. Finally she said, “But you don’t?”
He shook his head. “I don’t mind forgetting the prison part, but not remembering family and friends…it sucks.”
She dropped onto the chair at his side. “Did the doctor say if the memory loss is temporary?”
“They’re doing more tests. The doc told me it’s not unusual for someone to lose short-term memory after a traumatic event. And the fact that I remember some things is good. Apparently total amnesia is rare. Dr. Menke said a person with total amnesia wouldn’t know how to get dressed, or speak. He wouldn’t know anything he’s learned. The doc told me what I have is called a fugue, which translates to partial amnesia. You remember some things and block out others.”
He let out a long sigh. “It’s really hard to understand because I don’t feel like I’m blocking anything. Yet here I am. And I don’t remember anyone or anything that’s happened in my life.”
“You will. I’m sure you will. Perhaps a relative or someone will be able to fill you in and it will all come back.”
“I thought…since we were friends…that you could do that.”
She pulled back a little, hands clasped against her chest. “I’m sorry. I-I can’t.”
He cocked his head. “You can’t? I don’t understand…I mean they said we’re friends. You’ve been here every—”
“Yes,” she injected, launching to her feet. She took a few steps away. “But it…we were friends a long time ago. In school.”
His stomach dropped. He’d been feeling so damned good, excited about meeting someone who could fill in the blanks, and now he was back to square one. “You didn’t know I’d been in prison?”
She shook her head. “I hadn’t seen you in years.”
No wonder she’d looked stunned. “Oh, man.”
“But I’ll be happy to help if I can.”
“Thanks.” He forced a smile. Even old information was better than no information. “I appreciate that. If you just tell me what you do know about me, I’ll know more than I do now. I don’t even know what name people called me…what I liked to be called myself. Lincoln or Linc or some other nickname.” He held her gaze. “What did you call me back then?”
She moistened her lips. Close up she wasn’t as plain as he’d originally thought. She just didn’t do anything with her assets. High, model-like cheekbones, large wide-set eyes. Cat eyes. No makeup, no polish on her nails. And it was obvious that, even if his brain didn’t remember that he’d been abstinent a long time, his body sure did.
“Both. I called you by both, but…most of the time it was Linc.”
Linc. A family name, or just something picked at random? Considering he seemed to have no family, at least none who came to visit, it didn’t matter much. He’d been told his mother had passed away years ago, and his father had made no contact while Linc was in prison or here.
Maybe his father was dead, too? Maybe they’d both disowned him after he’d been convicted—as his supposed fiancée apparently had. He shifted position, shoving his body up with his good arm so he could sit straighter, but with the movement, a sharp pain shot through his leg.
Tori reached out. “Wait. I’ll help.” She searched for the mechanism on the bed and, finding it, raised the head for him.
“That’s good,” he said. “Thanks.”
“Would you like more water?”
He nodded, and she poured some into the glass from the pitcher on the cart. When he finished drinking, he took her hand again and saying, “Come here,” pulled her toward him. Close. Close enough to feel her breath on his neck. The contact sent a jolt to his groin. Good to know some parts of his body worked just fine. “Just how well did we know each other?” he said voice low.
Right then he hoped they’d known each other “very” well and could get to know each other all over again. No memory needed for some things.
“Actually—” she pulled back “—not well.” She shoved a few strands of hair from her forehead. “We were both students at Arizona State. We…uh…were in some classes together and met a few times at different functions, football games, parties and—” she waved a hand “—well, just a bunch of times. A few weeks ago, I happened to be in the hospital visiting someone else when I saw you, and since I hadn’t seen you since school, I wanted to say hi. But you were asleep. I mean…I thought you were asleep. I guess the nurses just assumed we were more than friends.”
“And we weren’t?”
“No, not like that. I came back to the hospital because I always liked you and still wanted to say hello, and that’s when I learned you were in a medically induced coma.”
“But you came back every day?”
She nodded. “I did.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I just wanted to.” She shrugged. “The nurse said I’d been the only one here to see you, and I thought, if it were me—”
He stopped her. “You felt sorry for me.” He compressed his lips. “Got it.”
“No. That’s not it. I mean…friends are friends. Friends are…there when you need them.”
His eyes caught hers. He was making her nervous, he could tell, and that was the last thing he wanted to do with his one and only friend. Smiling, he said, “Well, I’m glad we were friends.” He took her hand again. “You know, when I came out of the coma I had this odd feeling that someone had been with me during that time, talking to me. I thought I’d heard a woman’s voice…not actually talking, but more like reading a story or something.”
“That was me.”
“When I woke up I thought it was a dream.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad it wasn’t.”
A noise, someone talking in the hallway made them both turn and look toward the open doorway. Tori drew her hand away and stepped back, as if ready to leave.
No, not yet. She was the only person who knew him from the past. He had to know more. Now. “I can’t blame you for wanting to go,” he finally said. “But I hope you’ll come back.”
Her forehead furrowed. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“You didn’t know I was in prison when you visited me before. Now you do. I can understand if that bothers you.”
“But…you weren’t guilty. Why would it bother me?”
A quick sense of relief swept through him. “I don’t know. You might think I really am a criminal or…” The muscles in his chest tightened. “I don’t know…I don’t know anything. Sorry. I just hate that I can’t do anything to change things. It feels so—”
“Good morning, Mr. Crusoe. I’m glad to see you’re awake.” His doctor walked toward them.
“I better go,” Tori said.
“This won’t take long,” the doctor said, glancing at him, then to Tori and back again.
Tori headed for the door.
“I’m thinking if you keep making this kind of progress, you’ll be discharged in three or four more days. You’ll need therapy and someone to help you for a while, but you’re on the mend.”
“That’s great. Or it would be if I had a place to go.” Seeing Tori near the door, Linc said, “Can you come back in a few minutes, Tori?”
She turned.
“I think I’m going to need a friend.”
~~~
Her h
eart pounding, Tori forced herself to smile. “Sure,” she said, and then rushed from the room.
Outside the door, pulse racing, she braced herself against the wall. I’m going to need a friend. What a joke! She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. God, she was an idiot. And a liar. He was going to find out anyway, so why not just tell him? It would be a shock whether it was now or later.
But seeing him injured and helpless, she hadn’t been able to do it. She was the reason for everything that had happened to him. It would be like throwing salt on an open wound. Good God, she needed to help him, not hurt him.
“Miss Amherst?”
Tori started at the doctor’s voice, then brought herself to attention.
“You can go back in now.”
“Thank you.” As he turned to leave she said, “Excuse me, Doctor…”
He stopped.
“I was just wondering…how bad the memory loss is.”
The strange look he gave her made her squirm. Did the doctor know she was a phony? A fake? No, he couldn’t. He had no way to know that. No one did. She didn’t look the same as she had twelve years ago, and by keeping her married name, no one could know that Tori Amhearst was really Victoria Culhaine. Her attorney had told her what had happened at the jail and about Crusoe’s hospitalization, but not how badly he’d been injured.
“He’s sustained some serious physical injuries,” the doctor said. “The arm injury is minor and shouldn’t be any problem. The leg fracture is healing nicely, too, but the muscle and tendon damage are far worse and take much longer to heal. But with time and therapy, they will. The brain is more complex since the problem isn’t a result of the injury. What I can tell you is that the memory loss may be harder for him to deal with than the physical injuries. He was right when he said he’d need a friend. He really does.” The doctor tipped his head toward her, patted her arm and then left.
Tori didn’t want to be Lincoln Crusoe’s friend. Couldn’t be. She wanted to go back to her home. Her normal life. She had to go. She’d finally made a safe and secure haven for herself and now it could be—
“Tori? You still here?”
Hearing the plea in his voice, she froze. Oh, God. How utterly selfish she was. She had a life to go back to. He didn’t. He’d even said he had no place to go. And everything that had happened to him was her fault. Her heart sank. He needed someone. A friend.
She closed her eyes. Could she do that? Be his friend? Did she really have a choice? Sighing, the answer was obvious. She didn’t. Not if she was the person she believed herself to be. That person would do whatever she had to do for him until he was back on his feet again.
Or until he discovered who she really was.
CHAPTER TWO
HE’S GETTING OUT. New evidence. The DNA didn’t match.
Of all the things her attorney might have said when he’d called her three weeks ago, that hadn’t even been on Tori’s radar.
From the kitchen table, she watched the sun peek above the distinct formations of Bear Mountain, Capital Butte and Cathedral Rock, pushing smokey orange beams across the top of the mountains as it rose in the sky. Her eyes were gritty and felt as if someone had shoveled a bucketful of sand in her face. She glanced at the glass of OJ she’d poured. If she was lucky, an injection of vitamin C would revive her.
Bruno and Cleo, her golden retrievers, sprawled on the floor near the Arcadia door to the patio. Bills were piled on the table in front of her. Her grocery list, a to-do list and a stack of calls about the new jobs she’d accepted all vied for her attention. She had work to do, but it had been all she could do this morning to put one foot in front of the other and make coffee. Even now, she felt as if all the blood had been drained from her body.
She’d recently completed a mural in Sedona and had another commissioned for the side of her friend Serena’s café in downtown Spirit Creek, if one could call the two-block area a downtown. Several paintings were in various stages of production, and she had a gallery showing in two months. Somehow she had to get motivated. She didn’t need the money to live; the trust from her grandfather took care of that. What she needed was the therapy her work provided.
Work kept her in the moment. Kept her sane.
But since talking with her attorney, the only thing she’d been able to focus on was the man who’d spent ten years in prison because of her. And every night since the dream returned—quickly morphing into a nightmare in which she was seventeen again and standing on the corner with the love of her life, ready to go back to her dorm room after a hard-won game of tennis.
The campus was quiet because of the Memorial Day weekend, the air balmy and the stars shone as bright as their future. The dorm was only two blocks across campus from the tennis courts and, normally, Dylan walked back with her. But that night he’d driven and parked at the court because he had to leave to meet his mother at the airport.
“Come with me,” he’d urged.
“I’d like to, but I have to study.”
“Oh, come on. You’re always studying. You probably have that crap memorized by now.”
She smiled. If Dylan had his way she’d forget med school, marry him and have babies. She wanted that, too, very much. But after she became a doctor.
“I need to study, Dyl. You don’t understand how important it is. I didn’t graduate high school early to blow it all off in college. If I want to get into med school―”
“I know. I know. Your grades have to be up there.”
“Besides, I’ll meet your mom tomorrow night.”
Grinning, he pulled her into his arms. “Maybe I can persuade you with some ideas of what I’m going to do to you afterward,” Dylan whispered in her ear.
Her heartbeat, still pumping hard from tennis, quickened even more. In his embrace, her defenses melted away. She could easily bail on her studies one night. As she looked at his boyish face bathed in soft yellow moonlight, her willpower began to fade. Sometimes it was almost impossible to say no. She did know the stuff, but there were a few things…
He moved to kiss her, but she turned her face to the side. Placed a hand on his chest. “That’s not fair, Dyl. If I don’t study, it could mean not getting into med school and that could affect our future.”
He jerked back, raked a hand through his hair. “You don’t give an inch, do you?”
“Dylan—”
He looked at her for a long stretched moment, and as he did, his puppy-dog eyes softened around the edges.
“It’s just one night,” she said.
He blew out a breath. “Okay. I guess you’re right. It’s just that I can’t stand not being with you.”
“Me, too—with you.”
“Tomorrow night, no excuses.”
Her insides warmed watching Dylan toss their racquets in the car, get in, and speed away. He was a good man. Someone she could count on, unlike some other people in her life.
She heard a rustling noise. A breeze? An animal? The night went eerily quiet. Her pulses quickened. She glanced around. The tennis courts were empty, the street deserted. She started walking. Footsteps sounded behind her. She walked faster. The steps followed faster. Got closer.
Fear-laced adrenaline shot through her veins. About to run, powerful arms grabbed her from behind. Sheer terror clawed in her throat, she screamed, her voice instantly silenced by big, hard hands.
Tori shook her head, rubbed the sudden gooseflesh on her arms. Even now, sitting here in her kitchen, a bone-chilling fear gripped her, just as it had twelve years ago. Willing her hand not to tremble, she reached for the glass. It had been a long time since she’d had that nightmare.
She closed her eyes. God, she couldn’t go back there. Not now. She’d come too far.
But Gordon’s call had changed everything. She hadn’t thought of anything else. Especially since seeing Crusoe… She was responsible for ruining his life. She was to blame.
Dammit. She’d been so sure. Sure enough to identify him in a lineup…and again in co
urt, which had been closed to the public and the press because she was seventeen and still a minor. The only people in the room were the court staff, the attorneys, the defendant and Tori. When asked, she’d pointed directly at him…at Lincoln Crusoe.
If only she’d gone with Dylan…
But she hadn’t. And that one decision had changed her life forever. Hers, Dylan’s—and Lincoln Crusoe’s. An innocent man.
And the man who’d assaulted her went free.
Eyes misting over, her throat cramped. Damn him! Damn him for ruining so many lives. Tears burned down her cheeks, and hands shaking, she raised the glass of juice to her lips.
For years she’d feared the man who’d assaulted her would get out of prison and come looking for her. But he’d been out all along. How many other women had he assaulted since then?
Her fault. It was her fault if he’d hurt others, because once she identified Crusoe, the police had stopped looking. How could she ever make anything right?
Gordon had told her not to worry. She’d been a minor, so no information about her had been released. She also lived over a hundred miles from Phoenix, her name was different and she employed every safety device possible at her home. No one could get past her security or her dogs. Safe. She was safe now.
Gordon, the family attorney, had been her father’s best friend since Tori was in elementary school. He’d assured her that what happened to Crusoe was not her fault. She’d testified only about what she’d believed to be true.
So why couldn’t she accept that and move on?
She knew the answer as well as she knew what colors to lay on a canvas. She couldn’t stop thinking about it because an innocent man bore the scars of the mistake she’d made. His life would never be the same. He’d lost years he would never get back.
And she’d never stop thinking about it unless she could do something to make things right. But nothing could do that. Ever. Her visit to Crusoe two days ago had made that absolutely clear.