He tried to remember that. But he couldn’t. Instead, the word killer kept coming back. Why did he remember that, and little else? Yet the word haunted him. “Why. why was I in prison?”
There was another hesitation. “I really don’t know much about it, Mr. Murphy,” the doctor said. “Do you remember anything about your past? Anything about the accident?” The doctor’s voice was calm but persistent
He tried. Something, anything, would be better than the pain of nothing. Frustration crowded out everything else. Murphy. His name was Murphy,. He hung onto that. Nothing sounded familiar. Not his name. Not anything.
“You’ll probably start to remember things slowly,” the doctor said “I’ll try to keep you here as long as I can.”
His mind moved to the one positive thing he had heard. “The woman and child? You said they are. .all right?”
The doctor nodded. “The woman—Mrs Farrell—has been here several times and has called nearly every day wanting to know how you are.”
A woman Somewhere deep inside, he remembered a woman’s voice...calling him.
Someone cared Apparently he wasn’t all bad...
Not all bad
But he was a killer. A dirty cop, the one man said with contempt, as if he were the lowest thing on earth. Why did it sound wrong to him? Why did the thought send waves of revulsion through him? Why couldn’t he remember?
Why? Why? Why?
His head exploded in pain Involuntarily, he cried out and in a moment felt a needle again. For moments, he fought against the oblivion he knew it would bring. He had to know, dammit But then, exhausted, he closed his eyes again and drifted back into a more welcoming world.
Chapter 2
“He’s conscious.”
Julie breathed deeply Three weeks had passed since the accident, two weeks since she’d left the hospital. She’d asked the doctor in charge of Ryan Murphy’s case to call her when he was out of danger. The doctors hadn’t been at all sure he would emerge from the coma.
She slowly placed the phone back in its cradle. Thank God She felt as if she were being eaten alive at the thought that Ryan Murphy—whatever he had done in his past—would lose his life saving hers He hadn’t had to come back for her after rescuing Nick.
Not only did she owe him for her son’s life, she owed him for her own, and over the past weeks that fact had created a huge burden on her, so great indeed that she’d visited him several additional times in the intensive care unit of the hospital, each time cajoling the guard to let her enter.
His face was now engraved in her mind. His lips were wide, sensuous, but there were no lines around it. It was a mouth unfamiliar with smiles, with laughter, and, indeed, why would it be? He had been in prison ten years, though the usual prison pallor had been replaced by a deep tan obviously obtained while working on the road gang. The taut, drawn face was lightened only by the hint of a dimple in his chin that seemed as out of place as a rose in a field of wild grass. She also sensed a restless vitality about him, perhaps because of his lean, muscled body.
Was that what had landed him in prison? Impatience?
She knew about a man’s impatience to succeed. She knew far too much about it. She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking about her dead husband, about all the signs she should have recognized but hadn’t. Had this man’s wife gone through the same horror she had?
On her last visit to see Murphy, she had touched his hand again to offer some human contact, and then had turned blindly toward the door. She’d thought to go home, but instead she’d driven her rental car five blocks to the district attorney’s office to see her former mentor and boss, Dan Watters.
Despite his always busy schedule, he’d seen her immediately. He stood as she entered his large office. “I read about the accident in the newspaper,” he said. “I meant to drop in, but.”
“I got your flowers,” she said. “Thank you.”
He smiled awkwardly. He wasn’t good at small talk, which was unusual in a man who ran for office Yet he was uncommonly good at his job, and the voters appreciated his blunt honesty Juhe admired him tremendously and liked him even more He had been the one reason she regretted leaving her job as an assistant district attorney
“How’s Nick?”
She smiled. Nick had recuperated far faster than she She worried that somewhere deep inside he’d buried the terror of the accident. Memories still haunted her at night, but so far her son had shown no signs of trauma “Fine He was cut when he was pulled from the car, but now he’s as active as ever.”
He nodded. “And you?” Her neck still sported stitches where a flying piece of metal had cut a long gash There were other bruises, places that ached She wasn’t even supposed to be up yet.
“I’m better than I look.”
“You were lucky. I saw the photo of the car.”
“The man who saved me wasn’t so lucky ”
He fixed her with a stem stare. “Murphy,” he said. “I hear he’s still in a coma ”
“I want to know about him, Dan,” she said “His case must have come to you before I joined your office.”
“I was afraid you might want to know ” He hesitated. “Stay away from him, Julie He’s bad news.”
“He saved my son’s life,” she said stubbornly. “And mine ”
“That doesn’t change the facts of his case ”
“What are the facts?”
“He killed his partner on Christmas Eve ten years ago Traces of cocaine were found in his car He took a plea bargain for second-degree murder.”
“Why?”
He looked away, his gaze wandering toward the window.
“Why did you plea bargain?” she persisted “Why didn’t you prosecute for first-degree murder?”
“I probably should have,” he said, “But until then. Murphy had an unblemished record. There were no witnesses He first claimed the killing had been in self-defense and that the cocaine had been planted. The odds for a conviction were probably no more than fifty-fifty. To tell the truth, I had some doubts myself until he offered to plead guilty to second degree.”
“No premeditation,” she said “No death penalty.”
He nodded “I could buy that If he had planned it, he would have done a hell of a better job concealing it. That bothered me from the beginning. Murphy was too damned smart to get caught.”
“Then why was he?”
“Everyone slips now and then.” He hesitated, then continued thoughtfully, “Murphy was a real pain in the ass, but he was one of the best detectives I ever knew. He never gave an inch, never allowed for weaknesses He didn’t know the meaning of the word compromise. If he’d been innocent, he never would have pled guilty. He would have fought it to the end. When he asked for an offer, I knew he must be guilty, but I just didn’t have the evidence to go for first degree I did demand the maximum sentence. You know the way I feel about dirty cops ”
“So he got life,” she said.
He nodded. “He came up for parole three years ago, but my office opposed it. I doubt he will ever make parole, not until he’s an old man ”
“Why did he risk his own life to save mine?”
Dan shook his head “Instinct, maybe. Or maybe he thought it might help get him paroled. Don’t go making a hero of him, Julie. He’s a dangerous man ”
“Does he have a family?”
“Had a wife and daughter. She divorced him not long after the sentencing I don’t think they’d been getting along for a long time. That was in the information compiled for his sentencing hearing.”
“You handled it yourself?”
“Yes And it was painful. As I said, I’d worked with him. He was a loner, a perfectionist. He wasn’t the kind of man you’d choose to have a beer with. But I trusted him. I don’t like being wrong.” His tone hardened, and Julie remembered how very little Dan liked being wrong He never forgot a betrayal.
She rose. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“Stay away from him, Julie,” h
e said again “I know you’re grateful, but I don’t want to see you hurt again ” He stood, too “And if you ever want your old job back.. ”
“And all the bad publicity that would go with it? You’re a saint, Dan, but I wouldn’t do that to you, or myself.”
“You got a rotten deal ”
“I brought it on myself I was so sure I was right...and someone else paid a high price for that mistake.”
“You were one of the best assistants I ever had. Don’t think convicting the wrong man never happened to anyone else ”
She shook her head. “After what happened with Doug, I don’t have any faith in my judgment any longer. You need certainty to be a prosecutor ”
“You’re hiding, Julie.”
“No, I’m practicing law, and I’m home for my son It’s what I want, Dan. I need some peace in my life.”
“Corporate briefs? That’s not law.”
“It is for me.” She extended her hand to him For a moment, she remembered the old excitement of being involved in his office, in the idealism she once shared with him and her fellow assistants. She’d been so young and eager and hopeful of changing the world. And she’d been such a bad judge of character ..
Remember that, she thought as she headed home.
And now, days after that meeting with Dan, Ryan Murphy was awake
He’s dangerous He’s bad news Reasons to stay away. She didn’t need to be involved with another dangerous man Her husband should have cured her of that weakness forever But she wasn’t getting involved She was merely doing what anyone would do. thanking the man who had risked his own life to save her son’s.
Ryan Murphy He kept trying the name on his tongue. Part of him wanted desperately for it to become familiar Another part was repulsed by the idea. He was a criminal A murderer
He had been moved from the intensive care unit to a nearby room on the neurology floor two days earlier. He had a television set now, and the doctor urged him to watch, said it might help him remember things.
He found himself fascinated with it, but his memory remained blank, though his mind eagerly soaked up everything he heard and saw There was still that total vacuum, the terrible frustration of knowing nothing about himself other than what he was told
And that was all bad He even watched a portion of a show that mentioned him and showed a picture of him. A woman impersonally described him as a drug dealer Crooked cop. A man who killed his own partner. He couldn’t turn it off, though. He lay there, his gaze glued to the picture, his stomach clenching with a pain worse than any he’d felt before Proof Proof that he was what others had said. He hadn’t wanted to believe it.
He moved restlessly, desperately wanting to stand, but a chain linked his ankle to the bed. He had pulled at it once when he was alone, but he soon discovered he could do nothing to loosen it. He hated that chain, just as he hated the way none of the nurses would look at him as they hurried in and out of his room Each tune one entered, a man in a brown uniform would enter with them, and stand at the door.
The only friendly faces were those of Dr. Dailey, and a new doctor, a stout, older man who asked many of the same questions Dr. Dauley had Ryan tried to answer them all because he hoped it would help him remember. Then he would wonder whether he really did want to remember
He punched a button, and a new picture came on the television Four people were sitting in chairs talking about a crime He listened intently He had been a policeman. Maybe something would make sense, would bring back a memory. Just a few moments into the program, he heard loud voices outside the door. He pulled the sheet over the ankle that was chained and to better cover what the flimsy garment he wore didn’t
The door opened, and a woman appeared at the entrance. Unlike the others who’d been dressed mostly in white, she wore a light blue blouse, dark blue slacks and a matching sweater. Her hair was dark. Cut shoulder length, it swung easily around an attractive face. She hesitated at the door, a tentative smile on her lips, before taking several steps toward the bed.
He waited for the guard to come inside with her, but he did not.
He also waited for the now familiar contempt to crowd out the smile
“Mr Murphy,” she said softly. “I’m Julie Farrell. You saved my son’s life and mine I wanted to thank you.”
His hand tightened around the small box that controlled the television. Confusion rolled over him, then some kind of emotion so strong the area behind his eyes hurt. He didn’t know how to answer her He didn’t remember anything about the accident, although he recalled the doctor telling him about it.
She stepped closer, and he noticed her eyes were gray, a soft clear gray like the sky at dawn The image jumped into his mind as nothing else had. He wondered over it for a moment. A beginning. Did he really want a beginning?
“I know,” she said, “that you can’t remember, that you have amnesia, but I wanted you to know how grateful I am. My son is all I have and...”
She was pretty. He recognized that. He had seen many women on the television, but there was something about this one that caught his interest, as the others had not Because she was real? Because she didn’t look at him as if he were someone detestable?
“How do you feel?” she asked
“I don’t know,” he finally said after a long silence
“It must be difficult...not to remember anything ”
He swallowed hard. If everything they said about him was true, being in the dark was probably not as terrible as remembering
“You remember nothing about the accident?”
He shook his head He wanted to. He wanted to remember for her sake. For his own. God help him, he wanted to remember doing something decent
“Then I’ll tell you about it,” she said “Can I sit down?”
He felt inadequate Awkward He didn’t know what was expected of him. He was very conscious of the steel cuff around his ankle, of the guard outside his room “How did you get in without...my keeper?”
She hesitated, then said slowly, “The district attorney is a friend of mine. He arranged it. Reluctantly ”
“The district attorney?”
“Dan Watters.” She waited a moment. “Do you recognize the name?”
He shook his head “Should I?”
“He prosecuted you,” she said matter-of-factly, her gaze studying his face intently.
She obviously expected a response. There was no fluttering of familiarity, no awakening of an emotion The void was threatening to drown him again. He responded bitterly. “Aren’t you afraid?” he asked bitterly. “Everyone else seems to be.”
“How could I be, when I remember you pulling me from a burning car, when I keep hearing your words? You told me my son was safe, that you would get me out.” Despite his silence, she sat down. “Did anyone tell you anything about it?”
He went still. Suddenly, he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear everything about himself. No, he corrected. Maybe he didn’t want that. But he had to know. Good. Bad. Everything.
“Someone ran into my car,” she started, obviously taking his silence as an invitation to speak. “The crash jammed the doors of my car and ruptured the gas tank. My son was in the backseat. I was in the front, and I couldn’t reach him Nor could I get the door open. I smelled the smoke I know [ was screaming for someone to help, but no one came And then I heard your voice as you cleared out glass from the back window and lifted my son out.
“The smoke thickened and flames darted up from the engine. I didn’t think there was any way to get out, and then you reappeared. Your arms were already bloody, but you cleared the glass from the window, then somehow pulled me out and threw me away from the car just as it exploded.”
It was as if she was speaking of someone else. He couldn’t imagine his part in her story. He didn’t, couldn’t, respond.
“I wish..1 could do something for you.”
“There’s nothing anyone can do for me ” His voice was rougher than he’d intended. “You know ..what I a
m?”
“I know what they say you are.”
Desolation filled him. The desperate loneliness of not knowing who he was, of feeling so thoroughly alone, rolled over him in waves He had been told he had no future He didn’t have a past. All he had as of today was this hint of something...worthy, but he couldn’t have that, either.
“Get out,” he said suddenly
Her eyes opened wide
“Please,” he said, flinching at the desperation he heard in his voice
She leaned over, and he caught the scent of something sweet and intoxicating as she touched his arm. “If I can do anything for you, please let me know,” she said and shoved a card in his hand.
He looked away, toward the window, toward the blue sky. He felt her gaze on him, then heard the sound of her shoes against the floor and the opening and closing of the door.
His hand crushed the card and he felt even more alone than ever.
Julie had expected her visit to end her.. obligation to Ryan Murphy. Dan had called it an obsession, when she’d literally begged him to allow her to see the man alone She’d listened as he told her his sources said they believed he was faking amnesia. Cons often faked any number of mental disabilities as grounds for parole or a less restrictive prison. Prison authorities were convinced that this was the case with Murphy They were already demanding that he be sent hack to prison, but this time to the maximum security facility at Reidsville where he’d spent his first eight years in virtual isolation because of his status as a former police officer Apparently it had been difficult even for a man termed a loner because he had requested to go into the general population. He must have managed to stay out of trouble since he was then sent to a medium security institution in Atlanta.
She could barely tolerate the idea that he was to be punished for helping her. As an assistant D A., she’d been to Reidsville and to the segregation cells where they held high-risk prisoners who, for one reason or another, were in danger from other inmates. Eight years! She couldn’t even imagine the toll of such solitary confinement for that length of time
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