Memories After Midnight

by Linda Randall Wisdom

  “Can we go now?” she asked quietly. She refused to look at him for fear that fury might crop up again.

  “Sure.” A subdued Dylan guided her out the door, pausing long enough to set the alarm before following her out to his truck.

  As he backed out of the driveway, Alex stared straight ahead, then wished she hadn’t. The terra-cotta planters by the front door that she had kept filled with seasonal flowers were also gone. What she remembered looking warm and homey now seemed…bare.

  I lost my memory. I lost my husband. I lost my home. And I have no idea why. The bleak words echoed over and over inside her head. The sense of isolation intensified until she felt like resting her forehead against the window and bursting into tears.

  She was grateful that Dylan remained silent during the drive to the restaurant, though what appetite she’d had was now gone. She kept replaying the memory of his words in her head. Why he’d said them was her question, but not one she would ask until she felt ready to hear his answer.

  When Alex felt the sensation of the truck slowing down, she opened her eyes and looked through the glass. The idea that someone meant to hurt her didn’t seem as important right now.

  “Alex,” Dylan murmured. She looked over her shoulder. “I know you want answers,” he said, echoing her thoughts, “but I’ve got to go by what the doctor advised. You’ve had a lot to deal with in the past few days. The last thing you need is any more.”

  Furious, she pushed the door open, hopping out before Dylan could even get out of the vehicle. She was halfway to the front door of the diner before Dylan could catch up with her. His posture was stiff with tension.

  “Dammit, Alex, you just don’t want to make things easy, do you?” he muttered, his arm snaking out to open the glass door for her.

  “As you said, I’ve had a difficult time lately. I’m allowed to be in a snit.” She swept through with the poise of royalty.

  Tank stood at the counter talking to a uniformed patrol officer when he noticed their entrance. He raised an eyebrow at the tension radiating off the duo and jerked his head toward the rear of the restaurant.

  Alex was aware of the warmth of Dylan’s hand resting against the small of her back as they walked to the last booth. She recognized it as the unconscious gesture of a man claiming ownership, even if he was presently angry with her. For some reason he wanted the others in the diner to know she was off-limits.

  They were barely seated when Tank appeared, setting two mugs of coffee in front of them. He studied Alex’s face. “You better come in here when you have your beautiful face back again.”

  She had to smile. “So because of a few cuts and bruises I’m not beautiful now?”

  “Hell, we all know a few cuts and bruises have nothing to do with a person’s beauty. I just want to see what you look like without all the Technicolor on your face. Give a holler when you’re ready to order,” he growled, moving off.

  “The guy just has to flirt.” Dylan scowled at Tank’s departing figure.

  Alex smiled. She realized she felt lighter in spirit than she had for some time. For all she knew, she hadn’t felt this way even before her attack.

  “I bet he can still charm the women,” she said, studying the menu and making her decision.

  “Into a fit of hysteria, maybe,” he muttered. “You know what you want to eat?”

  I’d rather know what happened between us. She nodded and waited as Dylan waved Tank over. The man took their orders and left.

  “I would still like to try the hypnosis,” she said. “I don’t see why you would argue against it when there is an excellent chance it could work.”

  “And an equally excellent chance it wouldn’t,” Dylan pointed out. “You were hit on the side of the head near the rear, which meant you had your back to the assailant. With the fog coming in, visibility wasn’t great, and you were on your cell phone when you were struck. You were distracted—which adds up to your not seeing a thing.”

  “But I could have still heard something,” she insisted, leaning across the table. “I’ll even pay for the session.”

  Dylan’s lips twisted. He looked past her. “You have this insatiable need to know, don’t you? Alex, this isn’t covered under the Freedom of Information Act.”

  “There is nothing wrong with that kind of need, Dylan.” She paused to take a sip of her coffee, grateful for the jolt of caffeine in her system.

  His jaw worked. “How about a compromise, then? If we’re at a dead end in a week, you can undergo hypnosis. Is that good enough for you?”

  She thought about it for a moment, then stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

  Alex swore Dylan hesitated before wrapping his hand around hers. “I thought lawyers wanted everything written in triplicate with every t crossed and i dotted before you seal a deal.”

  “We do, but I’m not a lawyer right now. I’m a victim.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to argue with you, Dylan. I want you to help me find these men.”

  “Whitmire has officers checking the motel and the B and B just outside of town. They’re also going out to the Renegade to see if anyone new has been hanging around there.” The local bar just outside of town was popular with the rough-and-tough motorcycle set. “I admit your memories are scrambled, but you know you were in San Francisco because Janet has your schedule and she knows who you saw while you were there,” he said. “You keep your focus cynical as you target those particular clients.”

  “And I told you my clients are reputable businesspeople,” she argued.

  Dylan leaned forward until his nose almost touched hers. “So who do you think it is, Alex? Maybe you weren’t completely forthcoming with Whitmire or me the other day. Maybe there is a relationship gone bad somewhere.”

  Alex narrowed her eyes. “And maybe you can go to—”

  “Time out, kiddies.” Plates were unceremoniously plopped down on the table in front of them. The tempting fragrance of bacon and eggs wafted upward. A plate of toast and packets of jams followed. Tank looked from one to the other. “Eat, then fight.”

  “We’re having a disagreement,” Alex explained, picking up her fork.

  “Just a fancier word for fight,” Tank said. He glanced at Dylan. “You still looking for the SOB who did that to her?”

  “Working on it.” He looked at the older man with a pointed expression. “Which is why we’re grateful for the rear booth and some privacy.”

  Tank harrumphed. “I’ll get you some more coffee,” he told Alex.

  Dylan noticed his own cup wasn’t topped off but knew better than to say anything. He concentrated on his food instead.

  “Has anything new come to you?” he asked. “A hint of anything at all that I can pass on to Whitmire?”

  Alex again thought of the words that floated through her head at the house and the beginning pages in her journal. She knew neither would help her at this moment. She shook her head. “Any time I try to force the issue I end up with a headache.”

  Dylan nodded. “The doctor felt it would all come back, but it would have to happen at its own rate.”

  “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me. I just want this all over.” She ignored the misery coloring her voice.

  Dylan’s gaze warmed with sympathy. “I know it hasn’t been easy for you. You act so tough that I forget this kind of situation is all new for you.”

  “At least no one has ever shot at me,” she said, then paused. “Have they?”

  “Not that I know of.” He shook his head. “The problem is we have so little to work on. We have no idea what the assailants looked like and no idea why they targeted you unless you just happened to be an easy mark for them.”

  “Except you don’t believe I was an easy mark. That’s why you think it has to do with one of my clients, because you think it makes some sort of sense.” She toyed with her eggs. “If you only knew how boring my clients are.”

  “But do you know about them now? What if you acquired a client in
the past couple of years who wasn’t all that boring?” Dylan pointed out. His tone gentled. “You can’t really know that, can you?”

  “My files will tell me what I need to know. I’ll have Janet fax over the pertinent pages.”

  “Do you detail everything, Alex? Would you write down if you had a hunch about one of them? Would you write something if there was something about one of them that bugged you?” he asked. “Or do you keep your notes strictly business?”

  I kept a journal about us, so anything is possible. “I won’t know what I have on my newer clients until I look through their files, but I’ve always jotted down my impressions of clients,” she said. She looked down at her plate, which had been emptied faster than she’d expected it to be. “How do you deal with all this?”

  “With all what?”

  “With all this uncertainty,” Alex said. She toyed with her coffee mug. “In some ways, our work is similar. We both deal with facts and evidence, but after that our work obviously goes in different directions. What do you do when you are pursuing a case like mine where the evidence is almost nonexistent? How do you go about discovering the truth when you have so little to work on?” She knew if she heard the plea for understanding in her voice Dylan had to have heard it also.

  A tiny smile touched the corners of his lips. “In a way, that’s the easy part. You just take it one step at a time,” he said softly. “Even when you think you don’t have anything to work with, you can learn that there might be something there. What one detective might miss, another one might find. Each of us has our own strengths in investigation. Such as Celeste and me. I look at the overall big picture while she loves the chance to dig in and find all the little stuff.”

  “And Alan Whitmire? When all is said and done, this is his case. What will he look for? Or will he eventually push it to one side because there’s nothing more to investigate?” She didn’t want to admit that that was her true fear. That her case would be shelved before it was solved and she would feel vulnerable to her attackers, who would still be out there.

  Dylan thought for a moment. “Whitmire makes an anal personality look like a free spirit. Some of the guys joke he would have made the perfect fed, right down to the crisp white shirt, dark tie and dark suit. I may give him a hard time, but he is a good cop. He’s one of those dig-in types. Makes you think of those little terriers that don’t stop until they find what they’re looking for.”

  “You’re talking personality type, not how you do it.”

  “Maybe because it’s the personality that keeps us going,” he explained. “Some people are meant to be a detective—they’re willing to keep on going even when it looks as if they have nothing to work with.”

  “Like now,” Alex murmured.

  He started ticking it off on his fingers. “You forget, we have a victim who’s still in one piece, we recovered her stolen articles, we have an alert out on her stolen credit cards, there were fingerprints on her bag even if we didn’t get any immediate hits on them and we have the best of the best working on the case.” His eyes twinkled at her. “It’s a slam dunk, sweetheart.”

  She had to smile back. But then she always did when Dylan smiled. She remembered believing his smiles were what kept her warm during the cold nights just as much as his arms did. “You’re trying to reassure me, aren’t you?”

  “It’s all part of the job.” He looked up as Tank stopped by the table and topped off their mugs.

  “The booth is yours as long as you need it,” Tank told them before moving off.

  Alex closed her eyes and tried to recall the night of her attack, but all she could remember was waking up in the hospital’s emergency room with a nasty headache. Frustration once again bubbled up. She was brutal in pushing the emotion down.

  “You would have thought it would have been more expedient for the thief to steal my car also instead of just running away.”

  “Sweetheart, you’ve got to stop using all those ten-dollar words,” Dylan advised. “This simple cop tends to stick with the easy ones.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Simple cop, my ass.”

  “And a nice one at that.” He grinned, his eyes warm with the same laughter.

  Alex felt a sense of warmth settle around her like a soft blanket. This was the Dylan she had fallen in love with.

  You have the chance to take back your life, Alex!

  She knew the words that just ran through her mind weren’t an old memory but something new. At that moment, she felt empowered and ready to do battle with anyone who interfered with her plans.

  She grinned back, noting the surprise in his eyes. “I’ll make a deal with you. You said that you and Detective Whitmire have issues.”

  “Not Oprah quality, more like Jerry Springer,” he replied.

  Alex nodded. “Then let me talk to him. Between the two of us we’ll get the entire picture of what he has.”

  He leaned back in the seat. “I am impressed you figured him out so easily.”

  “It was easy. Your active dislike of the man probably blinds you to some of his points, which is how he can get away with putting something over on you. Plus, he will pick and choose his words when he’s talking to me since he knows I’m an attorney and I work with Will Zane. You will be able to read between the lines.”

  “You forget one thing. You’re still a civilian. He’s not going to tell you anything about the case.”

  “It doesn’t hurt to let me try,” she persisted.

  “Fine, see what you can find out, but don’t be disappointed if he shuts you out.” Dylan snatched up the check Tank had left on the table. He looked primed for battle.

  Alex felt as if the adrenaline coursing through Dylan echoed in her own body—and damn if it didn’t feel good. Looking at Dylan, she saw her smile echoed on his face.

  “At this rate, you’ll be ready to join the force,” he teased her as they headed for the door. “What brought about the change?”

  “I think it’s been building up all along until I decided it’s time to do something about it,” she admitted, slanting him a glance. “So watch it, Detective Parker.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Dylan grinned. He thought about telling Alex that he liked this new side to her, but held off. He had seen more than one shift in her moods for the past couple of hours and put it down to side effects from her head injuries. Yet he knew something had upset her and he didn’t think it was just his new furniture. He hadn’t wanted to live with so many reminders of Alex, so it had been easier to clear everything out and start fresh. When he’d stopped at the house for a shower and change of clothing, he was afraid seeing the house would affect Alex. But he hadn’t expected her to be so upset.

  He thought about the heat that had run between them during their marriage. The spark had been there from the time their eyes met.

  Their eyes met? Come on, Parker, get a grip, he mentally ordered himself. If you’re not careful you’ll start sounding like one of those lovesick idiots on those TV soaps.

  “Are you sure Detective Whitmire is at the station?” Alex asked.

  He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Celeste. “Easy enough to find out.” Two minutes later Dylan was assured the detective was at his desk.

  Once they reached the Sierra Vista Police Station, Dylan guided Alex past desks. Alan Whitmire looked up when they approached him. The man’s mouth tightened as he glanced at them, then he stood and offered them a distant smile.

  “I hope you’re feeling better, Ms. Spencer,” he said politely.

  “I’ll feel much better once my attackers are caught and my memory is back,” she said. “Otherwise, I’m getting there.”

  “Have you come up with anything new, Whitmire?” Dylan asked affably.

  “Do you have a report for me?” the other man asked.

  “I will.”

  Alan looked toward Dylan’s empty desk, turned back to him and cocked an eyebrow. “Then there’s no reason why you can’t write it up while I speak with Ms. Spenc
er, is there?”

  Dylan swallowed the retort that threatened to spring up. All it would take was one verbal battle with Whitmire and the lieutenant would take him off the case.

  “Sure thing,” he said with a smile that felt forced. He briefly placed his hand on Alex’s shoulder and inhaled the powdery scent of her perfume as he leaned down. “I’ll be right over there if you need me.”

  Alex looked up and smiled. ‘I’ll be fine.”

  He knew she meant that in more ways than one. He settled at his desk and watched Alex from across the room. Whitmire tended to be a chauvinist when it came to women. There was no doubt Alex would realize what he was doing and could easily put him in his place.

  His grin widened as he anticipated what was to come. While he worked on his report he’d have a front-row seat to the show.

  Chapter 6

  “We’ll use one of the interrogation rooms,” Detective Whitmire said. “We’ll have more privacy there.”

  What is it with cops and their privacy? Alex hid a smile at Dylan’s crestfallen face as they walked past his desk.

  Alex kept her expression impersonal as she followed the detective to one of the rear rooms. She noticed it didn’t look as depressing as the interrogation rooms she had seen on television, but she knew it wasn’t a place she’d like to be in for too long. She supposed she should be grateful she was here as a visitor and not as a suspect.

  “Would you care for some coffee, Ms. Spencer?” Detective Whitmire asked, pulling out a chair for her.

  “No, thank you.” She sat down and allowed him to carefully push the chair toward the table. The chair turned out to be as uncomfortable as it looked. If I had to sit here for too long I’d confess to anything they wanted me to.

  He took the chair opposite her and set out a legal pad and pen. “First off, is there any chance you’ve remembered anything new?” He looked expectant.

  “Nothing,” she replied. “I have even tried to force it but received nothing but a headache for my efforts.” She sat back, crossed her legs and waited. “What about you, Detective? Why haven’t you captured my attackers yet?”