What She Forgot

by Amanda Stevens

  The nurse shook her finger at him. “Ten minutes, no more. You understand me?” She marched across the room and opened the door. “I’ll be back,” she said in a voice that sounded alarmingly like Arnold Schwarzenegger with a Spanish accent.

  When the door closed behind her, Troy turned back to Andrea. “You’ve got yourself quite a champion there. Do you always make friends this quickly?”

  Andrea frowned at his tone. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Troy shrugged. “You seem to have a knack for making people want to go out of their way to help you. My sister, Dr. Seavers, the nurses.” Who else had she put under her spell?

  “Is that a crime, Sergeant Stoner?” Her beguiling blue eyes, even more startling against her now pale face, trapped him with her stare. He couldn’t look away and Troy found himself wondering if he was becoming her next victim.

  In a bloodstained dress with wet, matted hair, she’d been dangerous enough, but in a blue silk nightgown that was hardly more than imagination, and her hair—an intriguing shade of silvery gold—curling down her back, Troy thought her positively lethal. She was a knockout, a woman that would be noticed in a crowd of beautiful women, and yet no one had come forward to identify her. No one had reported her missing. Why?

  It didn’t make sense. Nothing about this woman made sense, least of all the way his body was responding to her in that blue silk nightgown.

  “What did you want to talk to me about, Sergeant?” Andrea asked softly.

  Her voice sent a shiver of unease up Troy’s spine. He deliberately turned away from her and walked over to the window. The drizzle of early afternoon had turned into a full-fledged downpour. He could hardly see beyond the parking lot.

  “Are you in the habit of taking sleeping pills?”

  “What?”

  He turned back to her. Her eyes were wide with shock. “Dr. Seavers said the lab found trace amounts of a mild sedative in your blood, a drug called Parvonal C. It’s usually found in over-the-counter sleeping medications.”

  Andrea frowned. “I don’t think I would take sleeping pills.”

  “But you can’t know that for sure, can you? Since you can’t remember?”

  Their gazes met and held almost in challenge, and then Andrea glanced away. “No.” She took a deep breath and released it. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “There’s something else,” Troy said. “I’d like to run a picture of you in the newspapers and on television. There must be a reason why your family hasn’t come forward. Maybe they don’t realize you’re missing.”

  “How could they not know?” Her blue gaze tracked him as he turned away from the window. “It’s been days. If there was someone out there who cared about me—” she fingered her wedding ring “—he would have already come forward, wouldn’t he?”

  Although it was hard to argue with her logic, Troy found it even more difficult to believe a woman like her would have no one. “Not necessarily. There are any number of reasons why you might not have been missed. Your husband may be away. Or he may think you’re away. The best way to get the answers we need is to run the picture.”

  “Dr. Seavers and Madison both agree that my memory will probably return on its own in time.”

  “But how much time?”

  Her gaze dropped.

  Troy stepped close to her bed, staring down at her. “I don’t think we have that kind of time, Andrea. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel some urgency in this matter. I think we need to find out who you are and what happened to you as soon as possible.” It was imperative, in fact, that he return her to her real life, to her husband, before it was too late.

  Before he, too, got caught in her web.

  * * *

  “I‘M SERGEANT STONER,” he said, showing his ID and badge to a clerk who appeared to be no more than seventeen or eighteen. “I’d like to talk to the owner.”

  The girl look unimpressed by the badge. “Zoê’s my aunt.”

  Which probably explained how a girl who wore black lipstick and nail polish, not to mention hot pants and white retro boots, managed to snare a job in a swanky joint like this. She looked like an escapee from the seventies, and Troy wondered what kind of familial persuasion had been brought to bear on poor Zoê to give the girl a job. “Is your aunt here?”

  The girl examined the black nails, which were so long they’d begun to curl under, giving her hands the appearance of claws. “She’s out of town and won’t be back until the end of the week.”

  “What about the manager?”

  “Called away on a family emergency. No one’s here but me.”

  “Are you in charge, then?” Troy asked carefully.

  She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “I called yesterday about a particular dress you carry here. I talked to someone named Carol.”

  “She’s the manager, but she’s not here.”

  “So you said. Look, I’m going to need your help…”

  “Star,” she supplied, flipping back her straight, white blond hair. “My name’s Star.”

  “Star, the dress I’m looking for is by a designer named Tamara Casey, and I’m told Zoê’s is one of two shops here in Houston that carry her line.” He’d already bombed out at Alaina’s, the shop in the Village, and was hoping for better luck here. “Are you familiar with that designer?”

  Star shuddered. “We carry Tamara Casey, all right, but I wouldn’t be caught dead in any of her clothes.”

  Troy fervently hoped Star wasn’t planning on making sales her lifelong career. “The dress I’m looking for is short, white, sleeveless. Real nice. Do you know the one I mean?”

  “Maybe.” The girl tucked a strand of hair behind an ear that was pierced no less than five times. She led him to the front of the store and pulled a dress from the rack. “Is this it?”

  Troy fingered the fine fabric, remembering the way that dress had looked on Andrea. Remembering the bloodstains. “That’s the one.”

  “We’ve only had this style a few days,” the girl told him. “If it was purchased in here, it had to have been since last week.”

  “That should make tracing the purchaser a little easier,” Troy said.

  Star shrugged. “Yes and no. If the dress was charged to an account, Carol could probably use the computer when she comes back to find out who bought it, but if someone paid cash for it…” She shrugged again in dismissal.

  “Does that happen often?” Troy asked. “Someone paying cash? I didn’t think that was done much anymore.”

  “It is if some rich old geezer doesn’t want his wife snooping in his business.”

  In other words, men buying presents for their mistresses wouldn’t want a record of the transaction that their wives might run across.

  “I see what you mean.” Troy fished in his coat pocket for a card. He handed it to Star. “Why don’t you give me a call when your aunt gets back from her trip or Carol gets back from her emergency?”

  “Sure.” The girl glanced at his card. “There’s not like a, you know, a reward or anything involved, is there?”

  * * *

  FOUR DAYS AFTER she’d been found and brought to the hospital, Andrea’s picture was shown on TV. She was watching the news when she first saw it. One moment they were talking about a tropical storm in the gulf that had just been upgraded to a hurricane, and then in the next instant, the radar map gave way to her picture with the lead-in, “The police are searching for the identity of this woman….”

  Andrea stared at her picture, trembling uncontrollably.

  The fear that had been kept under control came storming back, stunning her with its intensity.

  She should never have let her picture be shown on TV. But how could she have stopped it without arousing Troy’s suspicions? She knew he already doubted her. She couldn’t afford to make him even more suspicious. She needed him on her side. When everything came out—

  It won’t. As long as your memory is lost, no one
will find out anything.

  But how long could she keep the memories at bay?

  How long could she keep pretending she was an innocent victim?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It was dark by the time Troy got back to the hospital to see Andrea. She was sleeping with the light on, and Troy flipped off the switch, letting the soft illumination from the corridor filter in. He started to turn away, but something about the way she stirred in her sleep drew him to her bed. He stood in the dark, staring down at her, wondering what secrets her dreams would reveal if he could see them. Wondering if he would ever find out the truth about her.

  She muttered something in her sleep, a name, and Troy stepped closer. Her head thrashed from side to side. She was obviously in the throes of a powerful nightmare. Troy took her hand and shook it lightly.

  Her eyes opened wide and she screamed, bolting upright in bed. She slashed out with one hand. “No! Please don’t lock the door! It’s so dark in here—”

  Troy caught her thrashing arm in his hand. He tried to calm her. “Andrea, it’s me, Troy. It’s okay.”

  Her frantic movements ceased. “Troy?”

  “Sergeant Stoner.”

  She clung to his hand. “I’m so glad to see you. I thought—” Her grip tightened. “Why is it so dark in here?”

  “I turned off the light. I thought you might sleep better in the dark.”

  “I hate the dark!”

  “Yeah, I got that. I’m sorry.”

  He was about to ask her why she was so afraid of the dark when the door to her room burst open, and a deep, masculine voice demanded, “What’s goin’ on in here?”

  The light came on, and Troy found himself staring into the angry face of a burly male orderly. The man’s eyes narrowed. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Sergeant Stoner, HPD. Who the hell are you?”

  He ignored Troy’s question. “Is this man botherin’ you, Miss Andrea?”

  “No, it’s okay, Calvin. He’s a policeman. He’s here to help me. Aren’t you, Sergeant Stoner?”

  Her gaze was a bit too challenging. Troy frowned. “I’m doing my damnedest.”

  “Well, you sure do have a funny way of helpin’, that’s all I know. Comin’ in here, gettin’ Miss Andrea all upset.” Calvin’s gaze went past Troy to fix on Andrea. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. Thank you for coming to see about me.”

  Calvin nodded. “If you need anything else, you just press that there call button.” He pursed his lips disapprovingly as he shouldered his way past Troy.

  After Calvin left, Troy turned back to Andrea, shaking his head. “How do you do it?”

  “What?”

  “Have everyone eating out of your hand like that.”

  “You’re not,” she said, her gaze meeting his.

  Wasn’t he? Why else was he here instead of going home when he had the chance if he wasn’t falling under her spell, just like everyone else?

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, as if she’d read his mind.

  Good question. He glanced at his watch. “It’s still early. I don’t suppose you feel like taking a walk?”

  “Where to?”

  Troy shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s a coffee shop on this floor. I haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

  Her blue eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Are you asking me to dinner?”

  “I need to talk to you,” he clarified quickly.

  “All right.” Was it his imagination or did she seem a little disappointed? “Would you mind waiting for me in the hallway? I’ll just be a minute.”

  “Sure.” That would give him plenty of time to ask himself just what in hell he thought he was doing.

  Troy stepped outside and leaned against the wall. This wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all. He couldn’t afford to screw up again. His involvement with Cassandra Markham had almost cost him everything. What the hell was the matter with him?

  He could just hear what his old man would say if he could see his son now. And what about Ray and Mitch? What would they say if they knew their little brother was about to get in over his head one more time? Would they be so quick to try to bail him out this time? Or would they decide to let him sink or swim on his own, just as Gary had done when he’d thrown Troy into the creek behind their grandparents’ farm?

  Swim, kid! Give it all you got!

  Somehow Troy, only three years old at the time, had managed to make it back to the bank, and then he’d lit into ten-year-old Gary with a vengeance. Gary had just laughed, shoved him away like a pesky fly and said, “Now I don’t have to worry about you getting yourself drowned when you follow me and my buddies down here.”

  Thanks to his brother, Troy had turned out to be the best swimmer of them all and a competitive diver, even getting a full scholarship to the University of Houston. But he wondered what Gary would think if he could see the way Troy was floundering now, and all because a woman who didn’t know her own name had caught him completely by surprise.

  He sighed, scrubbing his face with his hands. He was a damn fool and he knew it.

  After a few minutes, the door opened and Andrea stepped out. She was wearing a blue satin robe over her nightgown and blue quilted slippers. Her hair was pulled back and fastened in a loose braid down her back, making her look incredibly soft and feminine, incredibly desirable.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “This is all I have to wear.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” he murmured. “You look… beautiful.”

  His words seemed to catch her by surprise. She started to say something, but the light in the hallway ignited the diamonds in her ring as she moved her hand up to smooth back her hair.

  Her hand stopped in midair.

  The diamonds flashed with cold fire.

  And a warning sounded somewhere in Troy’s brain. Back off, you idiot. Back off before someone gets hurt.

  “Uh, the coffee shop’s this way,” he said, motioning with his hand.

  They started down the hallway, each of them careful to keep a distance between them. But as they approached the coffee shop, Troy’s arm brushed against hers when he reached out to open the door for her.

  A thrill of excitement shot through Andrea. She wondered if she had ever been so aware of a man before. Surely she’d been attracted to her husband. Hadn’t he made her heart beat this fast, her knees grow this weak, her stomach flutter like a thousand butterflies had taken flight inside her?

  Somehow Andrea didn’t think so.

  The coffee shop was almost empty. They took a table for two near the windows, and Troy went to get their coffee and a sandwich for himself. While he was gone, Andrea stared out the window at the downtown skyline, picking out the buildings she recognized. It was strange. She knew what the Texas Commerce Tower looked like, could pinpoint the neoclassical lines of the Esperson Building, but she had no idea what her own home looked like or where it was located. She knew she lived in Houston, though. Knew she had been born here. There was no doubt in her mind about that, except…

  Something niggled at the corners of her mind. She’d been sent away once, hadn’t she? Lived where the winters were long and brutal and the summers much too short. She’d been very unhappy back then, her father dead and her mother—

  Abruptly her thoughts cut off, as if a curtain had dropped inside her mind. Don’t think about your mother, a little voice whispered. Think about surviving. Think about getting out of here. Think about helping Mayela.

  “Sure you don’t want something to eat?” Troy asked as he dropped down in the chair opposite her. He handed her a cup of coffee, then finished unloading his tray.

  Andrea shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

  “Well, if you’re sure.” He picked up his ham-and-cheese sandwich and began to eat.

  After a few bites, he wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and shoved his plate aside, grimacing. “Hospital food never changes.”

  “No, I guess it doesn’t.�
� She put her coffee cup down, careful to avoid his gaze. “You said you wanted to talk to me.”

  When he didn’t answer, she was forced to glance up. His dark brown eyes studied her with an intensity that took her breath away. Her hands began to tremble, and she clasped them in her lap so he couldn’t see.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

  He shook his head slightly. “I can’t figure you out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look at you. You’re gorgeous, a real head-turner. A face that would be almost impossible to forget, and yet no one has recognized you from your picture. No one’s called in about you. No brother or sister, no mother or father. No one.”

  “Maybe I’m an orphan,” Andrea said. “Maybe I don’t have parents.” As she said it, she knew it was true. She didn’t have parents. Not anymore. Somehow she knew her father was dead and her mother was lost to her forever. Andrea felt the sudden heat of tears behind her lids. “Maybe there’s no one.”

  “There must be someone,” Troy said. “What about your husband?”

  “What about him?”

  “Why hasn’t he come forward?”

  Andrea fingered her wedding band. “You said yourself, he may be out of town. Or he may think I’m out of town.” That was true, wasn’t it? He could be out of town….

  Yes! She remembered now. The gray-haired man bending down to kiss her on the cheek. It had been a brotherly kiss, completely lacking in passion. Goodbye, Andrea. I’ll see you when I get back. Take care of Mayela for me.

  You know I will. Please don’t worry. She’ll be safe with me.

  A spurt of fear shot through Andrea. She knew as surely as she was sitting there that someone named Mayela was in terrible danger, but Andrea was powerless to help her because she didn’t know who Mayela was or where the danger came from.

  Andrea thought about telling Troy everything she had remembered, begging him to help her solve this terrifying riddle, but another memory stopped her. Or was it her sense of survival?

  I hate you. I want you dead! Dead! Dead! Dead!

  She looked down at her robe, almost expecting to see bloodstains covering her hands and spreading over the blue satin of her robe. But her hands were clean, her clothes spotless. The bloodstains were only a memory. But of what?