What She Forgot

by Amanda Stevens

  “Then it’s okay if I go up?” Andrea glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling with merriment, as if the last few moments had never taken place.

  Troy had no recourse but to do the same. “I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said, brushing past her. “Better let me go first, though. These steps can be pretty tricky. I’ll give you a hand up.”

  She waited until he’d climbed all the way up, then she bounded up the steps, unmindful of her dress, and ignored the hand he held out to her. She hauled herself up to the wooden floor, stood and dusted off her hands.

  “Point taken,” Troy muttered.

  They walked over to the railing and stood staring down at the neighborhood. All the yards and houses were pretty much alike, but the Stoner home still retained a special enchantment for Andrea. Maybe because of the man standing beside her.

  “That’s the Gilmore house,” he said, pointing to the redbrick home behind the Stoner property. “See that window? My brothers and I used to sneak up here at night and watch Lorie Gilmore get ready for bed. I was just a kid, probably not more than seven or eight, too young to know or care what was going on, but I knew it had to be a pretty big damn deal, seeing a girl in her underwear, because of the way Mitch and Gary would carry on.”

  “What about Ray?”

  “Ray was too old for that type of juvenile stuff by then, and besides, he never had to sneak around to get a look at a girl. He always had them falling all over him, the big football jock.”

  “Did you play football?”

  “No. I was a diver.”

  “You dove off those tall platforms, did all those flips in the air and everything?”

  “Yeah, it was great,” he said with a grin.

  “I’ll bet.” Especially considering those tiny trunks divers wore. A scene rushed through Andrea’s mind, not her memory this time, but her imagination…going wild.

  “What was Gary like?” she asked.

  “Gary? He was a great guy. The best. He taught me a lot.”

  “You still miss him.”

  “We all do. You don’t get over something like that. You just get on with your life.”

  They stood in silence for a moment, each lost in thought, and then Troy said, “You see that house over there?” He pointed to a white two-story home, half a block away. “When we were kids, a girl named Dana Farrell lived there. The summer he turned fifteen, Gary fell madly in love with her. The two of them were inseparable all through school, and then right before her senior year, her father got transferred to California. She and Gary kept in touch for a long time, but eventually they drifted apart. She went to law school, and Gary became a cop. Years passed, and then one day she got a job in the D.A.’s office down here. She moved back, looked Gary up, and the two of them picked right up where they’d left off in high school. They were engaged to be married when he was killed.”

  “I’m sorry,” Andrea said, not knowing what else to say. But Troy wasn’t telling the story as if he were still grieving, or as if he thought it a tragedy. He was telling it as though he were in awe of their love. As if he couldn’t quite understand feelings that ran that deep, that could last that long.

  “It’s been five years since Gary died,” he said. “And Dana’s never married. I don’t think she’s even come close.”

  “Does she still work in the D.A.’s office?”

  “Yeah, she’s an A.D.A, an assistant district attorney. In fact, she’s supposed to be here today. You’ll like her.”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  Silence again. Andrea could feel his eyes on her, but she didn’t dare turn to meet his gaze. Didn’t dare let him see what was in her own eyes.

  “Your turn now,” he said softly. “I’ve told you all about my family—now I’d like to hear about yours.”

  “But I don’t remember my family,” she protested. “I don’t have anything to talk about.”

  “You remember your grandmother,” he said. “Her name was Andrea.”

  She did turn to him then. “Your mother told you.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  She shrugged helplessly. “It just came to me when I was talking to your mother. I didn’t have time to tell you.” But the excuse sounded lame even to her. She turned her gaze back to the yard below them.

  “Is Mayela part of your family?”

  Andrea’s heart skipped a bit. “I don’t know.”

  “You were whispering her name in your sleep that night. You seemed frightened for her.”

  “Did I?”

  “It’s an unusual name,” he persisted. “Surely you can remember something about her.”

  She’s in danger, and I’m the only one who can save her.

  His eyes darkened, and for a moment, Andrea was afraid she’d said the words aloud. Then when she realized she hadn’t, she wanted to. She wanted to confess everything to Troy and let him help her. But what if he couldn’t help her? What if he didn’t believe her? What if they took her away again?

  There would be no one to save Mayela. No one to save Andrea, either.

  She couldn’t say anything, not until she knew what she was up against. Not until she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong.

  A voice called up to them from the backyard. “Hey, you two! You’d better get down here fast or Bev says she’s going to put you in charge of the cleanup detail!”

  Andrea stared down at the young woman in the yard. She wore a denim skirt and a white tank top that showed off a gorgeous tan. Her hair was light brown, thick and straight and cut bluntly at her shoulders. She waved when she saw they were looking down at her.

  Troy waved back. “That’s Dana,” he said. “Come on. I want you to meet her.”

  Andrea climbed down the steps behind him, relieved that for the moment at least, she had been given a reprieve.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  On Monday morning, Troy was at his desk, going through the stack of case files Lucas had given to him last week, when the lieutenant came out of his office and walked over to Troy’s cubicle.

  “Looks like you’re about to get a break, Stoner.”

  Troy glanced up. “Yeah? On which case?”

  “Jane Doe, the one with amnesia.”

  Troy’s heart slammed into his chest. “What kind of break?”

  “There’s a woman in my office claims to know her.”

  Troy’s head snapped toward Lucas’s office. Through the glass partition, he could see a woman seated across from Lucas’s desk. “Who is she?”

  “Name’s Claudia Bennett. Dr. Bennett. She’s a psychiatrist.”

  A chill of foreboding came over Troy. “A psychiatrist?”

  “Yeah. Says Jane Doe’s a patient of hers. Thought you might want to talk to her.”

  He sure as hell did. Troy stood, shoving back his chair with more force than was necessary. It hit a filing cabinet with a loud bang, and Lucas raised a brow. “Sorry,” Troy mumbled, grabbing his notebook and pen and heading toward the office.

  The woman looked up when Troy walked in. She didn’t stand, didn’t smile and didn’t offer Troy her hand when he introduced himself.

  He took a seat behind the lieutenant’s desk and studied her for a moment. She looked to be in her late forties, conservatively dressed in a navy blue suit, white starched blouse and low-heeled pumps. There was an exotic quality about her, but Troy couldn’t pinpoint her ethnicity. Her eyes were tilted at the corners, but they were light, not dark, and her black hair was pulled back into a severe French twist that gave her face a tight, almost masklike appearance.

  The impression was further enhanced by the thick makeup she wore, which was several shades lighter than the skin on her hands, making Troy wonder if she was deliberately trying to obscure her origins. Rather than giving her a striking appearance, however, the pale skin and blue eyes against her thick black hair made her look even more foreign. Almost alien.

  Troy thought her one of the most intimidating-looking women he’d ever met.


  “You say you recognize the woman in this picture?” He held up the photograph of Andrea that had run in the newspaper and on TV.

  Dr. Bennett nodded. “Yes. She’s a patient of mine. Her name is Andrea Malone.”

  Malone. The name was like an electrical jolt through Troy. Already Andrea was slipping away from him. Now she had a complete name, a whole identity. A life that didn’t include him.

  “How long have you known her?”

  “Several months.”

  “Her picture first ran in the papers and on the news four days ago. Why has it taken you so long to come forward?”

  Dr. Bennett shrugged. “I’ve been out of town, on business. I just returned last night, and this morning, when I saw Andrea’s picture in the paper, I came straight here. Is she in trouble?”

  “She’s not under arrest, if that’s what you mean.”

  “I’d like to see her.”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged,” Troy said. “But first there’re a few questions I need you to answer for me.”

  Something flashed in her eyes, a mild annoyance that was quickly stifled. “What is it you wish to know?”

  “I need to know about her family, where she lives, if there’s someone who can take care of her while she recovers.”

  “Are you telling me that no one else has come forward to identify her? I’m the first?” Although her tone sounded astonished, her eyes remained calm. Almost too calm, in Troy’s estimation.

  “Can you tell me about her family?”

  “Of course. As I said, her name is Andrea Malone, and she lives in River Oaks with her husband, Richard, and his daughter, Mayela.”

  Mayela. Troy recognized the name instantly. So Mayela was Andrea’s stepdaughter. And Richard Malone was her husband.

  “I think there’s also a mother-in-law who resides at the estate, and perhaps a brother, but I’m not quite sure,” Dr. Bennett was saying. “And as for having someone to take care of her, Andrea has a veritable army of servants who are at her beck and call. Richard is… quite wealthy.”

  Troy made note of the fact that Dr. Bennett referred to Andrea’s husband by his first name. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but it did seem a little unusual. Then again, maybe not. Maybe he was looking for some reason not to believe the woman. Not to trust her.

  “You told Lieutenant Lucas that Andrea is a patient of yours.”

  “That’s correct.” She glanced at her watch. “Look, I really didn’t come down here expecting an inquisition. I’m a busy woman, Sergeant, and I really don’t have time for this. If you’ll just tell me where I can find Andrea…”

  “It’s not quite that simple.”

  “Why not?” A look of alarm flashed in the woman’s eyes. “You said she’s not in any trouble.”

  “I said she isn’t under arrest.”

  Dr. Bennett blinked. “Well, I just assumed…”

  “There are some questions that have arisen as a result of Andrea’s…condition, and I’m hoping you can answer them for me.”

  “Such as?”

  “Where is her husband? Why hasn’t he come forward to identify her?”

  “I can’t speak for him, of course, but he could be out of town. Richard travels extensively. He’s seldom home. He may not know about Andrea. And then, of course, it could be because…” Her voice trailed away.

  “Because?”

  Her blue eyes drilled him. “Andrea is my patient. I cannot violate her confidence. But it’s no secret that she and Richard have had their difficulties.”

  Troy felt a queasiness somewhere in the pit of his stomach, as if he were invading Andrea’s privacy, eavesdropping on the most intimate details of her life, but he had no choice. He had to find out just what the hell was going on, whose blood had been on her clothing when she’d been picked up.

  “What kind of difficulties?”

  Dr. Bennett shifted ever so slightly in her chair. “Richard is a great deal older than Andrea. There are certain problems inherent in that kind of relationship.”

  “How much older?”

  “I’d say at least twenty years.”

  Troy wondered how he felt about that revelation. At the moment, he was too numb to react to much of anything. Later, when he had time to think, to digest everything Dr. Bennett was telling him…

  “Dr. Bennett, are you suggesting the reason Andrea’s husband hasn’t come forward is because they may have had a fight?”

  “If she’d left him, he might not know she was missing, would he?”

  “That doesn’t explain why he hasn’t seen her picture in the paper or on the news.”

  Dr. Bennett shrugged. “Like I said, Richard travels extensively. He may be out of town, as I was.”

  “And there’s no one else in this city who could have recognized her?”

  “I don’t believe Andrea has lived in Houston all that long. She’d only recently moved here when she got the job as nanny to Richard’s daughter.”

  Nanny? Andrea was a nanny? Somehow that didn’t surprise Troy as much as it might have. In spite of her defensiveness at times, her keen instinct for survival, there was a gentle quality about Andrea that would naturally attract children.

  “How did she come to marry her employer?” he mused, more to himself than to Dr. Bennett.

  “Richard’s first wife died,” she said, “not long after Andrea came to live with them. It was all very tragic. The little girl, Mayela, was devastated.” Dr. Bennett glanced at her watch again. “I really do have other appointments.”

  “Just a couple more questions. You said it was no secret that Andrea and Richard were having problems. Is that why she was seeing you?”

  “No.” A shadow crept over the woman’s features, a subtle darkening that sent another chill through Troy. “Andrea’s problems were much more serious than that, but I’m not at liberty to discuss them with you or anyone else.”

  * * *

  ON THE WAY TO MADISON’S town house, Troy called his sister and asked her to meet him there. He told her briefly about Dr. Bennett, about the information she’d supplied concerning Andrea and that he was going over to tell her what he’d learned. Dr. Bennett was following him in her car, so that if Andrea agreed, the doctor would be able to talk with her immediately. Dr. Bennett had insisted.

  Andrea answered the door wearing a light pink T-shirt and denim overall shorts that must have come from Madison’s closet. Her eyes lit with pleasure when she first saw him, then she quickly masked her emotions by gazing past him at the dark car that pulled to the curb behind his.

  “Who is that?” she asked.

  Troy glanced over his shoulder. The windows in the BMW were tinted so darkly that Dr. Bennett was obscured behind the wheel. But he knew that she was there, watching Andrea closely, perhaps trying to evaluate her from a distance.

  He turned back to Andrea. “Let’s go inside.”

  Although he tried to keep his tone even, he saw fear leap to her eyes. She cast another anxious glance at the black car as she stepped back for him to enter. Then she followed him into the living room.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked before he could say anything.

  “Maybe we’d better sit down.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this,” she said, but she did as he suggested.

  Troy, however, remained standing. He went to the window and peered out. Dr. Bennett had gotten out of the car and was standing by her door. She wore dark glasses, but Troy knew she was gazing at the house, at him.

  He turned away from the window. “Your name is Andrea Malone.”

  He heard the sharp intake of her breath. “How did you find out?”

  “Someone identified your picture from the paper.”

  “Who?”

  “A woman named Claudia Bennett. She’s a psychiatrist.”

  “Oh, God.” It was hardly more than a whisper, but Andrea’s words seemed to echo through the room. Her face drained of color, and her eyes suddenly looked hollow. The reaction was st
rong, and Troy couldn’t help but wonder why.

  “She says you’re a patient of hers,” he said carefully.

  Andrea didn’t say anything this time, but he could see her fingers gripping the arms of her chair. “What else did she say?”

  “You have a husband named Richard.”

  No reaction this time, and Troy thought that odd. There was not even so much as a flash of memory or a glimmer of recognition in her eyes when he mentioned her husband.

  “You have a stepdaughter named Mayela.”

  “Mayela.” Her gaze shot up to connect with his.

  “Yes. At least that’s one mystery solved.”

  “Is she all right? Is she safe?”

  Troy frowned. “I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to contact your family yet, but why wouldn’t she be?”

  “No reason. I…just wondered.”

  It was more than that, but Troy didn’t press. “Dr. Bennett is here,” he said. “She wants to talk to you.”

  “Why?”

  “To make sure you’re the woman she thinks you are.” Troy realized his phrasing was a little strange, but he didn’t know how else to say it. “Will you see her?”

  “I don’t know.” Andrea got up and walked to the window, parting the blinds to stare out. “Is that her?”

  “Yes.”

  Andrea glanced at him over her shoulder, her expression bordering on desperation. “Why do I have a psychiatrist, Troy?”

  He’d been wondering that very thing himself, almost as desperately, but he forced himself to shrug casually. “Lots of people see psychiatrists for a lot of different reasons.”

  “But not me. I wouldn’t, unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless I was scared.” She turned back to the window.

  “Scared of what?”

  She didn’t answer him. Instead, she said, “I don’t recognize her. She doesn’t look familiar to me.”

  “Maybe when you talk to her, it’ll come back to you.”

  “Maybe I don’t want it to.” She faced him. “Maybe I don’t want to remember.”

  His heart bounced against his chest at the look in her eyes. “Why not?”

  “You know why not,” she almost whispered. “Troy—”