Judd’s back stiffened, but his arms remained loosely by his sides. “You’ve got the wrong man.”
“Oh, yeah?” Curt said. “You don’t say.” He held an iron golf club, which he beat lazily against his open palm. The boy next to him wore work gloves and brandished a two-by-four. The others carried fireplace pokers.
Curt stepped forward, and his pals fell into place beside him. “When we get done with you, you sicko, you won’t remember who you are, for real.”
Karen glanced about desperately. Brick buildings surrounded them on three sides. The restaurant had a back door set in its wall, flanked by a garbage Dumpster, but the tough wielding the two-by-four had placed himself between her and Judd and the door.
Karen grabbed onto Judd, ready to step in front of him to stop the vigilantes from touching him.
“Karen, go!” Judd commanded, shaking her off.
“No!”
“Go! I can handle this alone.” His push propelled her several feet, toward the restaurant’s back door.
“Yeah, lady,” Curt said. “In case you didn’t realize it, we’re here to protect you. This guy is a killer.”
She sent Judd a pleading look, warning him to be careful, then she ran for the door. The attackers grinned, obviously convinced they were doing her a favor and that she’d just woken up to it.
As she reached the door, there was a coarse shout like a war cry. She turned to see the four vigilantes descend on Judd, weapons raised.
She ripped open the screen door and ran into her friend, the young waiter.
“Ah, wha—?” He dropped a bucket of vegetable trimmings between them.
“I’m sorry! I need to call the police. Where’s your phone?” Her words ran together, and she was already past him, frantically searching the kitchen for a phone.
An elderly Chinese in apron and white cap was cleaning a giant wok with a brush. He discerned what she was looking for and gestured to a black phone on the wall.
She could barely hear the sounds of fighting over the loud rumble of the kitchen exhaust fan. She pictured Judd going down in a bloody pulp even as she gave the police dispatcher the address and begged her to have the cops hurry. She hung up and flew back to the door.
The owner was excitedly talking in Chinese to his nephew, who held the screen open, the better for the two of them to see. The nephew was jerking his body and shouting what sounded like encouragement. For a ghastly moment, Karen thought he was cheering on the four thugs.
“Ah, miss, you call police?” he asked as Karen crowded into the doorway next to them. “Those bad boys gonna go jail!”
The fight had moved to the middle of the lot. One attacker lay on the ground, cradling a twisted leg; his weapon was nowhere to be seen. The mercury-vapor floodlight bleached all color from the scene, casting the fighting figures in sepia tones. Without warning, Curt rushed in from the side, swinging the golfing iron with all his strength.
“Oh, no.” Karen couldn’t bear to watch. She buried her eyes in her hands.
“You no worry about him, miss,” the waiter said, kindly taking her arm, “your friend one bad dude. Look!”
Karen lowered her hands. Judd and his opponent were rolling on the ground, their two sets of fists locked on the club.
“This one know his stuff. You know, like kung fu. Judo. He very good.”
The two men struggled to their feet, then shoved apart, the golf club remaining in Judd’s grasp. With an arcing toss, Judd threw the weapon up onto the roof of the adjacent building.
Karen exhaled a tiny bit. “You mean he’s been using karate or something?”
“Yeah, yeah.” The two men nodded vigorously, and the younger one grinned. “He so good, he coulda break other ones if he try.”
Her eyes stayed glued to the combatants, who were warily circling each other. “You mean he’s been holding back?”
“Oh, yeah, he good enough break them for sure. He only try a…” He wrinkled his brow.
“You mean he’s only defending himself? Not trying to hurt them back?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
One of the other young men sprang forward. With a movement too fast to see, Judd grabbed the poker in one hand and the fellow’s belt in the other. He rolled down and onto his back, propelling the attacker over him and jettisoning him into the back of a parked car. The boy’s head just missed the bumper, but his shoulder crashed into the metal and he screamed.
After that, it was over in a matter of seconds. The injured one was helped from beneath the car by his friend, and the two of them half ran, half staggered out of the lot. The young man with the broken leg continued to moan on the ground. Curt, his bandanna mask hanging limply around his neck, faced off with Judd alone. However, with his buddies gone and no weapon in his hand, he wasn’t so brave. He raised his fists before him and danced nervously from foot to foot.
Judd was breathing hard, and a thin stream of blood ran from his mouth. He watched the young man in front of him as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Quit while you’re ahead, kid.”
The wail of a distant siren made up Curt’s mind for him. He turned and fled the scene without a backward glance. Karen cried out and rushed forward to hug Judd.
Two patrol cars pulled into the parking lot. The officer from the first knelt by the injured boy, while the second hurried up to Judd and Karen. “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing,” Judd said, dabbing his lip with a folded handkerchief. There was a tear in his shirt, and his slacks were streaked with motor oil and dirt. “Just a mutual disagreement that got out of hand.”
“Disagreement?” Karen exclaimed. “There were four of them, wearing masks. They jumped Judd for no reason.”
“What’s your name?” the officer asked.
“Maxwell. Judd Maxwell.”
The cop’s brows went up. “The guy with the memory loss?”
“That’s me.”
The officer seemed nonplussed, and excused himself to check on the hurt boy.
“Are you all right?” Karen asked.
“Yes, it’s nothing. I just cut the inside of my lip.”
The officer returned. “The kid’s leg is pretty bad, but he admits he started it—otherwise, I’d have to detain you.”
“You mean arrest him?” Karen was furious. “But they attacked Judd.”
“Karen, let it go,” Judd said.
“But don’t you want to file a complaint? We can identify the leader.”
“It doesn’t matter. Are we free to go, Officer?”
The cop hesitated. “I’ll need some information for an incident report, then you can leave.”
Karen gave her name and address as an ambulance arrived. The cop moved his car so Judd could back his out.
As they drove home, Karen said, “I don’t understand why you didn’t want to prosecute those troublemakers.”
“Maybe it’s because I understand how they felt,” Judd said. “After all, this is their town, and I’m the mysterious outsider in it.”
“I think you’re being too forgiving.” She sat back sulkily. After a few moments, she said, “You did pretty good back there. The men from the restaurant seemed to think you were some kind of black belt”
“I’m very tired, Karen” was all he said. “Let’s talk about it in the morning.”
JUDD AWOKE the next morning in a panic. He swallowed the shout that had started in his throat and held his breath as the nightmare slowly faded. It was then he realized he wasn’t on Karen’s couch, but lying in the hammock in her backyard.
“Damn.” His stomach remained in knots as he eased himself to a sitting position and rubbed the dew from his face. He hadn’t realized before that he was a sleepwalker, but now, somehow, he knew it was true. It was the reason he now found himself out of doors when he’d begun the night under a blanket in the living room.
For the first time, he remembered his dreams, and he wished he didn’t.
He wished he could forget the three wom
en, young and pretty, their bodies horribly mutilated with deep slashes.
He checked his hands, front and back, for cuts or blood. They were a little blue from the cold; that was all. It was freezing out here. He freed himself from the hammock and went inside.
Though his memory hadn’t returned, he was learning a lot about himself, none of it comforting. He knew how to use a gun, how to keep cool when attacked, how to fend off other men with a form of martial arts that smacked more of back alleys than a controlled judo hall. And if his dreams held any meaning, he might know how to inflict terrible pain and how to kill without mercy.
Judd shivered as he stepped into a steaming shower. He was clearly more than a simple car mechanic. But what? The skills he possessed were those of the mobster, the youthful gang member, or someone who had survived the criminal teaching ground of prison. Had he been a cold war spy, a mercenary or a hired assassin even? Those explanations all seemed too far out to be true. As impossible as his dreams were horrible. If the pieces didn’t start fitting together soon, he would go mad with the uncertainty!
Karen was still asleep behind her bedroom door as he mechanically uncovered and fed Trouble. He made the coffee extra strong, then brought in the morning newspaper.
He recognized the big black-and-white photo even before the front page was completely unfolded, and his heart stopped. It was one of the women from his dream. It was Marlene Hall.
Chapter Ten
Karen woke at her usual time, a few minutes before seven. She changed out of her nightgown into a turquoise sweat suit, then opened her bedroom drapes. It was a gray, overcast morning. If she wasn’t mistaken, the heat wave was over, thank goodness. She wasn’t even going to entertain the possibility that the gray sky could turn to thundershowers sometime today.
She found Judd in the living room, fully dressed in slacks and a white dress shirt. He was hurriedly stuffing something into his suitcase. The thought he was packing to leave struck her like a blow.
She swallowed, instinctively realizing that the best way to lose him would be to hold on too tightly.
“You’re up early,” she said breezily. “You look nice. Are you going job hunting?”
He straightened, hands on his narrow hips. “Good morning. No, I’m not going job hunting.” His gaze slid to the coffee table, then returned to her face. “I need to have a talk with you.”
He ushered her to the dining table with an outstretched arm that did not touch her. She was very aware that their last physical contact had been yesterday evening, just before they entered the restaurant. He hadn’t touched her since learning of the time of Marlene Hall’s death, during dinner, and Karen felt sure it wasn’t a coincidence.
“I made some coffee. Would you like some?” he said as she sat down.
“Yes, thanks.”
He came back with a single cup, then took the chair on the opposite side of the table from her, rather than in his usual spot catercorner from her.
“I don’t want to upset you,” he said gravely, “but I’m going to the Creekside Diner this morning…to talk to the people Marlene Hall worked with.” A tortured look appeared in his eyes. “I need to find out how well I knew Marlene.”
The thought of putting anything in her stomach suddenly appalled her; Karen carefully pushed her cup aside. “I see.” She felt scared and angry at the same time, but mostly angry at this new threat to Judd’s peace of mind. She tried to keep the impatience from her voice as she said, “Do you have any reason to think you were acquainted with Marlene, other than the fact that you used to eat there sometimes?”
Judd’s gaze slid away. “Not really.”
Karen was too preoccupied to notice the edge of guilt in his tone. Her intuition was shouting that if she let him leave, he might never come back again. “Do you think it’s wise for you to go out today, after last night? Perhaps it would be safer to lay low for a while?”
Judd straightened. “I won’t be in any danger. There may be a few calls to the mayor demanding my arrest, but I don’t think anyone else will try to take the law into their own hands.”
Not after the drubbing you gave those four hotshots, she thought, and smiled despite herself.
Apparently he thought she wasn’t taking the subject seriously enough, because he frowned. “Karen, I have to level with you. I’ve had a strong gut feeling, ever since I woke up in St. Mary’s a week ago, that I was in some kind of trouble. I left the hospital because I felt it was imperative I find out who I was and what I’d been involved in, before something worse happened.”
“That’s why you tried so hard to get rid of me? Because you didn’t want me to get involved in whatever it was?”
“Exactly. Day before yesterday, when you told me my feelings were perfectly normal, that the anxiety was merely a symptom of the amnesia, I began to relax and tell myself I had nothing to worry about. Then yesterday, when the cops came to talk to me, I convinced myself it was all a coincidence. All day I kept denying I could be involved in the murder. Well, I was fooling myself.”
She watched as his mouth compressed into a bitter line, and she realized his words had been full of recrimination at what he must consider his own gullibility. His behavior over the past days suddenly made sense to her. He’d been going through the grieving process of a person with a serious illness, first angry at the loss of his memory, then denying anything was wrong! Why hadn’t she immediately recognized the classic behavior pattern for what it was? And now he was calm, coming to terms with what he believed to be the truth. Unfortunately he’d drawn a terribly false conclusion. He wasn’t accepting the fact he had a temporary mental disorder, but that he was a murderer!
“Trusting your feelings at this point could be a big mistake—” she began.
“Karen.” He thrust one arm forward, palm up. “Whether I held the knife or not, I’m in deeper than I thought. Most of the town is probably convinced I’m guilty. I’m the prime suspect. You know the police will be back. I need to know what to tell them when they come—I’ve already wasted too much time when I could have been searching for the truth.”
Karen thought quickly. Knowing Granite County, she had to admit he was probably right about both the townsfolk and the authorities. If he was seen to be investigating the murder himself, it might lend more credibility to his amnesia claim. And going to the coffee shop would serve a further purpose: it would prove to Judd that he hadn’t been friends with Marlene, that she was just another waitress. It would relieve his mind.
She took a sip of her cooling coffee. “Maybe we should visit the diner. I’ll get my clothes on and we can go.”
“There’s no need for you to come with me,” he said as she rose.
She circled the table and put her arms around his neck from the back. “Do you want the truth, or do you want to be Rambo?”
He snorted, and she sensed her touch was softening his resolve. The thought thrilled her that she could influence such a forceful, determined man.
“Then take me with you,” she whispered, her mouth close to his ear. “I know my way around town, and I can help.”
It was just enough manipulation; she didn’t want to overplay it or he’d insist on reasserting total control and leaving her out. She drew away with a last squeeze to his shoulders and went to dress before he could change his mind.
THE ENVELOPE WAS STUCK to the front door with tape. As she removed it, Karen glanced back into the hallway; Judd was still searching the house for his misplaced car keys. With a sense of foreboding, she drew out the single sheet of typing paper. A short message was printed neatly in block letters.
I HAVE EVIDENCE THAT JUDD MAXWELL
KILLED MARLENE HALL.
A FRIEND
Karen harrumphed in disgust and started to tear the letter in two, but Judd was approaching. She stuffed the paper in her purse.
She didn’t want to think about the note, but after she’d straightened out her conservative, beige shirtdress and wrapped her long raincoat around her
legs for warmth, there was little else to distract her on the silent ride to the Creekside Diner. Judd was deep in thought, his eyes scanning the mist-shrouded road without really seeing it.
Some friend, she mused, to send her a poison-pen letter like that! If the author had truly had her best interest at heart, he or she would have called her on the phone, told her up front what the author purported to know. It was obviously a prank, an adolescent trick, and one in very poor taste.
It bothered her that she couldn’t think who would have played the joke. The thought crossed her mind it might have been her old boyfriend, Mark the engineer, but that was ridiculous. She might have jilted Mark, even possibly wounded him when she turned down his proposal of marriage, but she doubted it. Mark was too focused on his goals, too sure of his ultimate success in life to let a little thing like being turned down by Karen Thomas get to him.
They found the diner’s tiny parking lot full when they arrived. Judd pulled past and parked on the verge of the highway. As they walked back to the restaurant, Karen admired Judd. He looked even more handsome than usual, dressed up in a striped tie and tweed sport coat, minus the ubiquitous sunglasses.
When he opened the entrance door for her, the heavy aromas of frying bacon and sausage, mixed with the sweet smell of maple syrup, assailed her. Judd took a quick look around the dining room, then headed toward a slim waitress with a lion’s mane of blond hair who was pouring coffee and wisecracking with a customer. Karen recognized her as the mature woman who’d been working the shift with Allison, the girl who recognized Judd.
“Ricky,” the balding customer said as they approached, “you shouldn’t tease me.”
“I’m not teasing you, I like your hair. It’s the nicest one I’ve ever seen.”
The customer threw back his head and guffawed; Ricky’s shoulders shook.
“Miss, I wonder if we might have a word with you,” Judd said.
Ricky turned, a Cheshire grin on her brightly painted lips. The smile disappeared as she instantly recognized Judd, and her eyes widened for a second.
Only A Memory Away Page 12