Chapter Four
Tyson sped into the "Police Vehicle Only" parking space near the ER entrance, and ran through the automatic doors eager to get to the room they were keeping Sabine. Once he stopped at the front desk and flashed his badge to the receptionist stating that he was the detective assigned to the "Jane Doe" case, he was immediately allowed access through the locked electronic doors. Her room was not hard to find. There was a lazy looking uniform sitting as guard outside her door. Tyson once again showed his detective's badge and told the cop he was relieved.
He took a slow, deep breath, and pushed aside the sliding glass door to enter the temporary room. A small wave of dizziness overtook Tyson as he stepped inside. There she was, sitting up in the adjustable bed and covered with a million blankets, including a metallic thermal sheet, and flipping the television channels using the remote attached by a thick white cord that also would call in the nurse if needed. She was so fascinated by whatever she was watching on T.V. that she didn't even notice Tyson enter. He took the time to compose himself as well as to reacquaint himself with her great beauty.
Before he lost it and went over to run his hands through those thick black curls, he made a short grunting noise to indicate his presence. If she recognized him at all, one could never tell from the blank expression on her face. One that was the exact opposite of what she would greet him with so many years ago. Back then, her expression went through the gambit of surprise, happiness, contentment, and finally lust.
He cleared his throat again, "Uh, hello." That's all you can come up with, dickhead?
She stared at him for a moment. He thought that recognition flashed across her face for a briefly until she said, "Hello. Are you another doctor?"
Tyson though it was strange that she had no accent at all. Without the French-tainted Haitian accent to her words, she sounded less lustful, almost childlike. But still, he was sure the woman was Sabine. He felt it in his heart, his mind; even in his groin.
"Uh, no Miss. My name is Tyson Roberts. I'm a detective with the Chicago Police Department."
"Oh. You have more questions?" She sounded very disappointed. "I wish I had answers for you. No, wait. I'd rather you had answers for me. I'm so very confused about what's happening."
Tyson moved to sit in a chair to the right of her bed. "Can you remember who you are or where you are from yet?"
"Not at all. I've been watching this T.V. for hours. Everything seems strange yet normal at the same time. Like, I recognize everything I see, but I feel like I shouldn't. Does that seem strange to you?"
"Not in your case. No." Tyson remembered then how she was found. "Do you have any recollection of last night? Of what happened? Why you were found...the way you were?"
Sabine furrowed her brows. Now that was an expression Tyson was used to. "They checked me for...you know. But, that's not what happened. I would feel like that happened to me if it did happen...wouldn't I?"
"I'm sure you would." He felt slightly relieved, though neither of them could really be sure until he spoke with her attending doctor. Treading lightly, he moved on. "Does the name Sabine mean anything to you?"
She looked pensive for a moment, but finally said, "No. Should it?"
"Yes. It's your name."
She sat upright excitedly. "Really? You're sure? Have you found my family?"
"I'm sure it's your name. Sabine Macandal. But, no. You have no family that I am aware of."
"So how do you know who I am? According to the officers who were here before, I would have to have family members that knew I was missing for a report to be filed."
Tyson wasn't sure how else to explain it without everything sounding crazy, so he just said, "I know you. We, uh, used to date a few years ago. When I saw your picture at the station, I came right over here."
Sabine leapt off the bed and into his arms. Tyson stopped her just long enough to make sure the IV lines didn't get caught or tangled.
"Oh, I'm so happy! You have no clue how frightening it's been having no recollection of your life or who you are." Then she gave him a strange look. "Wait. Did we have a bad break up?"
Tyson laughed and tried to pretend there was humor behind it. "No. We just...went separate ways. The day you left me was the worst day of my life, however."
"Oh my! I'm so sorry." She genuinely looked it, too. "And, I'm sorry I don't remember you, er, Tyson. You seem like you'd be hard for a girl to forget."
Tyson finally did what he'd been dying to do, and put his hand through her hair as she sat in his lap. "You've been through some sort of trauma. I don't blame you. I'll make sure the doctors clear you to be released."
"And then what?"
Tyson looked deep into those stormy gray eyes. "And then you come home with me."
Murder, Mayhem, Monsters, and Mistletoe Page 4
