Christmas Angel

by Amanda McIntyre

  “Are you okay, Madam Lee?” Shado asked as he shifted the woman in his arms. She was light, even in her boots. “I’ll let you know how she’s doing,” he called over the hood of the car.

  “Yes, yes. But do you know who this woman—” Her words were cut off when the van door slammed shut.

  ***

  Shado held the fragile-looking woman in his lap, ignoring his partner. She hadn’t moved. His mind replayed the instant the assailant hit her with his gun.

  “Do you know her name?” Gleason asked as he punched a set of numbers into his cell phone.

  “I need Billy,” she muttered softly.

  Shado gently turned her face to his. “What did you say, sweetheart?” But she’d already slipped back into unconsciousness. Her face was pale, with almost doll like delicate features. Not the type Madam Lee would normally hire, which made it even more probable she worked directly for Espinoza. He tossed a glance at his superior, who by his expression questioned Shado’s emotional involvement with the situation. Perhaps if he didn’t feel partially responsible for her injury, he wouldn’t have near the vested interest. Then again, she was their only eyewitness to the murder.

  “We’re going to need a forensics crew at the Imperial hotel.” Gleason spoke

  into his phone. “We’re en route now to Renown Regional with one civilian injured during the skirmish with suspects.” There was a brief pause. “Two of my men engaged in a foot pursuit, yes.” Another pause. “Unfortunately, the suspects got away in a vehicle.” He rolled his eyes. “No, they weren’t able to get plates.” He hesitated and stifled a sigh. “No, the civilian sustained a blow to her head and is currently unconscious… right.” He snapped his phone shut. “Captain’s meeting us at the hospital.”

  Shado nodded, going over in his mind what he would say when asked. Could he have prevented injury to an innocent bystander? Was she an innocent bystander? “She saw the murderer.” He spoke his thoughts aloud.

  “You did too, as far as we know,” Gleason remarked. “Hell, Jackson, she could have murdered the guy. We don’t know anything yet.”

  “She wasn’t in possession of a weapon when that guy held her hostage. He had her in a headlock.”

  “Maybe she was in on it.”

  Shado frowned. “My gut tells me she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Her head bumped against the window, and he shifted so she rested fully against his shoulder.

  “I’m concerned it’s not your gut you’re thinking with here, Jackson. Are you sure you’re seeing this objectively?”

  The comment scraped his already sensitive nerves. Maybe he was fooling himself. Still, if this woman had an inkling of an idea where he could find Espinoza, he was going to make damn sure he had first crack at her when she awoke. “Get real,” he scoffed, but when he glanced down at her peaceful expression, something foreign breezed over his heart.

  ***

  She awoke to a piercing light and a rip-snorting headache. “Where am I?” The question was pertinent on so many levels. Her head throbbed. She raised her hand to shade her eyes. “The light hurts.” The searing brightness dimmed.

  “Is that better?” a gentle voice asked.

  She nodded, peering through her narrowed vision and noted a silver-haired older man in a white coat standing by her. Pristine white linens covered her body. “Who are you?” She briefly scanned the sparsely furnished room. A heavy pine soap smell permeated the air, and it was so quiet. The man lifted her wrist, and she noticed the tube sticking from the top of her hand. She gasped and jerked away.

  “Just a little fluid to help bring your electrolytes back in order.” The man took her hand and patted it, then pressed his thumb against her flesh and eyed his watch.

  “There now.” He nodded. “Your pulse is much better. My name is Dr. Stevens. You’re at Renown Regional Hospital. You’ve had quite a blow to your head.” He studied her. “Do you remember your name?”

  She frowned. Well, of course, she did. She licked her lips, wishing she had a drink of water. Surely, it would come to her. “It’s… it….” Her mind drew a blank.

  She shook her head. For some reason it wasn’t coming to her.

  He patted her arm. “It’s okay. You’re probably suffering a mild form of temporary amnesia from the trauma. It will likely pass. But you’ll need to get plenty of rest, and you should be checked in on routinely to be safe.”

  The rugged-looking man from the tree lot stepped from the shadows of the room. He glanced at her, then the doctor. “Is it okay to ask her a few questions,

  Doc?”

  Those blue eyes were unmistakable. “Do you know me?” she asked, beginning to think she might never awaken from this horrible nightmare.

  He nodded and patted her arm. “I do, but I’m afraid you didn’t tell me your name.” His face was kind. For some reason, she trusted him.

  “I’d like to run a few quick tests, first.” The doctor pulled out a small object with a bright tip. “Please look at me,” he ordered quietly. “That’s right. Good. Look left. And now to the right.” He took the small light away. “Thank you. Relax, go ahead and blink a couple of times.” He regarded her with a gentle smile. “Are you feeling well enough to answer a few questions?”

  She looked at the stranger who’d given her directions. Another man, dressed in a fine gray suit and wearing a cowboy hat had entered the room. “Certainly. I have a few of my own.” She reached up, and her fingers brushed over the bandage adhered to her forehead. “You brought me here?”

  The man reached up, pulling off his brown cap and raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. His serious expression was broken briefly by a nod and a quick smile, which made the corners of his eyes crinkle. She didn’t find it odd she remembered him. Her body recalled before her brain did the reaction she’d had to him on the street. He had a firm jaw, shadowed by the hint of a beard and wore the same brown coveralls she’d seen him in earlier.

  “I met you on the street. Was I shot? I seem to remember hearing gunfire.”

  He glanced at his friend. “Let’s start with introductions.” He placed his hand on his chest. “I’m Detective Jackson and this is my superior, Detective Gleason.” He directed a friendly smile to her. “Thankfully, you weren’t shot. You’re one very lucky young lady considering the circumstances.

  “I understand you’re having a bit of trouble with your memory. But if you’re able, we’d like to see if you retained any details that could be useful. Sometimes, walking through the sequence of events can help jog things a little. Are you willing to give it a try?” She nodded.

  “Great. You tell us if you’re getting tired or anything, right?”

  His sincerity touched her, diffusing her fears. “I will.”

  “Do you know the name of the man who hit you?”

  “No, he didn’t tell me his name. I’ve never seen him before.”

  “Did he speak to you directly? Call you by name, perhaps?”

  Her thoughts swirled in her brain, pressing against her skull. Frustrated, she shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. He called me bitch.”

  The younger detective’s face blossomed with a friendly grin. He glanced at his friend. “Yeah, that was right after you bit his arm.” “He was choking me,” she replied.

  “Hey, I’d probably have done the same thing.” His smile made her stomach feel strange. “Do you recall anything before he grabbed you?”

  She shut her eyes and tried to envision the events as they happened. The images were disjointed, and she couldn’t seem to find a way to put them together to make any sense. “It’s strange. I feel like my name is on the tip of my tongue, but I just can’t say it.”

  “It’s okay. Take your time,” he reassured her. “Did you have a purse, maybe a wallet with some form of ID?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘ID.’”

  Detective Jackson shot the other man a strange look and then returned his attention to her. “Okay then
, let’s see if we can focus on the hotel. Tell me everything you saw.”

  “There was someone who held the door open for me.” She paused. “I was walking across the lobby when I noticed a big man standing in an open doorway.” Her mind replayed the flash of the scene that came next and she gasped. “There was shouting and as I tried to see what the ruckus was about, the man stepped aside and I saw….” She stopped and clutched her chest to steady her heart.

  “Another man inside the room… there was blood, and then he fell to the floor.” She looked at Detective Jackson. “I wanted to do something, but I couldn’t move. Then the big man grabbed me. I thought he was going to kill me, too.” She stared at the sheet as she recalled bits and pieces of what came after. “I fought him, tried to call for help, but he had his arm over my mouth. He was so strong. I thought… I thought I was going to die.”

  “Okay, it’s okay. That’s very helpful.” He patted her hand. “How about the doorman? Did you see what happened to him?”

  Her mind was a blur. Snippets of memory popped in at random intervals. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. Oh, I saw a blur of another person running from the room as I was struggling, but I didn’t see his face.”

  “No problem. It will come to you. What happened before you went inside?” her blue-eyed friend prompted. “Do you remember us meeting?”

  “Yes, I do.” She held his gaze, sensing, as she had then, the sparks between them.

  “Anything before we met?” he asked.

  She nodded, wincing a little at the movement. “There was this nice man who gave me a coat.” She pushed to her elbows and looked around her. “Where is it?

  He loaned it to me from his boss.”

  Detective Jackson took her hand in his and her heart skipped a beat. “We’ve got it. It’s hanging in the locker. Did you know the man who offered you the coat?

  Where did you meet him?”

  “I don’t know. There was another man who called him his brother, but in truth they didn’t appear to be related.”

  “Why do you say that?” he asked.

  Angel looked from one man to the other. “One had dark skin and the other didn’t.”

  There was a brief silence before the detective spoke. “Where did you speak with the man?”

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know where I was. It was a large building with lots of people. More than I’ve ever seen in one place. A man was playing piano on a big stage. People were clapping and singing.” “The musical,” the other man quietly interjected.

  Detective Jackson’s gaze never left hers. “And what about before that? Who were you with before the musical?”

  She pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead. “Nothing is clear. It’s like a muddy pond in my head. I’m sorry.” Her stomach growled plaintively. “I don’t even recall the last time I ate.” Her hunger was the first sign of something normal.

  “We’ll get you something to eat as soon as we have the okay from the doc.” He glanced at the doctor. “She’s going to be okay. We can get her something to eat soon, right?”

  The softness in his voice caused her eyes to well. So much had happened, she didn’t understand. It would be nice if she could find someone who could explain to her where she came from. Nothing made much sense.

  “I’d like to check the results of her scan first. My first reaction is to say she can go ahead and get something to eat. And if her tests come out okay, she should be able to leave on her own. I’m afraid all of our beds are full. I can see about transferring her for psych observation.” He offered a raised brow. Angel had the strange feeling she bore the brunt of some underlying communication going on between the two.

  Detective Jackson shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. We’ll take care of her.”

  Detective Gleason cleared his throat and turned away.

  “Well, if at all feasible, I would suggest she be under someone’s watch for at least twenty-four hours. Chances are good she’s sustained at least a mild concussion.”

  She lay there, feeling lost to their whims. She wanted to tell them she didn’t know anyone in this town, but she couldn’t truthfully say since she didn’t know for sure where she was. The doctor faced her and spoke with grave authority. “You rest for now and push this button if you feel dizzy or nauseous. And if you need these men to leave, you tell them to get out. Do you understand, young lady?” He smiled, and once she agreed with a nod, he left.

  She stared after the kind man in the white coat, her greater concern where she would end up after she left this room. Detective Jackson touched the back of her hand. Jarred from her reverie, she blinked and looked at him.

  “Would you like something to eat? I’ll run down to the cafeteria. My captain is on his way here. He’d like to ask you a few questions, if you’ll allow it.”

  “Captain?” She’d once met a ship’s captain in New York, but she didn’t know what more she could tell anyone beyond what she had told this man. “Is he like a… sheriff?”

  He eyed her. “Yeah, I guess you could call him that. Are you allergic to anything?” He paused at the door.

  She frowned, puzzled by the large number of odd-sounding words she simply didn’t understand. “Allergic?”

  “It, uh, means is there anything that doesn’t agree with you?”

  “Oh. Well, cigar smoke makes my stomach do flips. Those stringy things on pea pods and mice… I can’t look at them without nearly peeing my drawers.”

  Detective Gleason turned his head and covered his mouth, hiding a grin from the looks of things. She glanced back at her blue-eyed friend. “Is that what you wanted to know?”

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “Close enough.”

  The sound of a gruff voice issued from outside the door. “Captain Murphy, of

  the Nevada police. Narcotics division. You have an injured eyewitness in there?”

  The doctor accompanied a large man into the room. Her eyes widened seeing a man of color wearing a fine suit, breezing in with a look of authority. His expression, however, was dour, and he wore a rumpled coat, but no star on his chest or hat on his head like a sheriff often wore. And why she should know, she couldn’t say. She realized this couldn’t be a dream, for she wouldn’t have been able to conjure anything quite so fascinating. Still, the question of who she was and why she was here eluded her. “Detective Jackson said you were a sheriff.”

  Intimidating though he may appear, the “captain,” seemed stumped at first by her question. He eyed her, then reached inside his coat, drew out a small wallet, and produced a quick flash of silver.

  “I promise he won’t bite.” Detective Gleason flashed a grin as he nodded to the cowboy-looking detective. “Come on. She doesn’t need all of us in here. I’ll go see if I can rustle some food up for you.”

  “Thank you,” she answered. Confident the captain seemed well acquainted with her new friend, she turned her focus to him. “I’m not sure how much more help I can be to you, sir, but I’ll try. Then maybe you can help me find my way back home.”

  ***

  Shado glanced over his shoulder as he stepped into the hallway. “You think she’ll be okay in there?”

  Gleason glanced from the room to Shado. “She seems pretty resilient. You worried?”

  He shook his head. “Nah, you want some coffee?” He wasn’t prepared yet to admit how he’d let the woman get under his skin. Maybe he still felt responsible for her injury. Maybe more than he was ready to admit kept her in his thoughts.

  Gleason shook his head. “Nope, I’m good. Just going to call in and see what forensics might have found out about our hotel guest. They claim the credit card he checked in under was a corporate card, under the name Jonathan Smith. Not unusual for Madam Lee’s variety of services. We’ll run his fingerprints, but we may need Madam’s help to get a physical description. There wasn’t much left of the guy's face. She could sit down with our artist. Might give us a lead.”

  “We’
ll see. I’m going to see if I can find some food for her.” “You still think she’s innocent in all of this?” Gleason interjected.

  “I can’t say without a doubt, but it seems she happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Gleason shrugged. “Guess time will tell.” He pulled out his ancient cell phone.

  The deserted corridor afforded Shado time to think back on her facial expressions as he’d interrogated her. True, she was a fragile looking thing, built like a willow, and yet there was a fire in her blue eyes and a dogged determination. Perhaps pride made her appearance deceiving. Still, for reasons he didn’t understand, he possessed a powerful need to protect her. He didn’t want to believe she had anything to do with Espinoza, but with this temporary amnesia, getting to the truth would prove to be a challenge. He glanced up and a silent curse registered in his brain. The cafeteria was dark. Luckily, he’d passed a row of vending machines not too far back. Though it wasn’t as nourishing as a hot beef sandwich, he selected a ham and cheese on wheat, a package of peanut butter crackers, and bought himself some stout black coffee. He turned the corner to the ER as the captain left her room, slipping his notepad in his jacket. From the look on his face, he’d gotten no further with his questions than they had.

  “She says she remembers clearly the guy who knocked her over the head. She can’t remember seeing the other guy.”

  “I spoke to her doctor while you were in there and in his opinion, she’s suffering from something called retrograde amnesia,” Gleason explained. “Apparently it means she can remember her most recent memories, but not those previously stored.”

  “Sounds like the stuff that happens in my wife’s soap opera,” the captain muttered. “But I won’t argue with the doc. Still means she could pick out a face from those guys at the hotel. If they let her go, maybe we can get her something to eat, a place to rest, and see if she’s up to going through a few photos. With any luck, she could lead us right to the killers. Do we have a name on the vic?”