A Thanksgiving To Remember

by Margaret Watson

  Tina heard a gasp, and realized it had come from her. There was silence in the room. Finally, Tom said, “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that Missouri has no record of issuing a driver’s license to you, ever. That license of yours was a fake, and a damned skillful one.”

  Tom studied the detective’s face. He said, “And what else? I know there’s more. I can see it in your face.”

  “For someone who says he’s lost his memory, you seem to know quite a bit.”

  Tom shrugged. “I can’t help what I remember or know.”

  “That’s convenient.”

  “That’s the way it is.”

  The two men stared at one another for another moment. The detective looked away first. He glanced down at the small notebook in his hand. “Your credit card bills are sent to a P.O. box in Missouri, too. The address that the post office has for the box doesn’t exist. It’s a vacant lot in a rough part of St. Louis.” He rattled off an address to Tom, then looked at him. “Does that ring a bell?”

  “Not at all.”

  The detective snapped the notebook shut and slipped it into his back pocket. “You’ve got a problem, Flynt…” he paused “…if that’s really your name.”

  “It’s the name on my credit cards and driver’s license, isn’t it?”

  “That doesn’t mean squat.”

  Tom shrugged, but Tina could see the tension in the line of his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Detective, but I can’t give you any answers. The only reason I know my name is Tom Flynt is because you told me so.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, Flynt, you’re a suspect in the murders of David and Lisa Steele.” Detective Jones fixed his hard stare on Tom. “I’m going to do my best to get all the facts in this case. And when I do, I’m going to arrest you.”

  “There were a lot of people at this ball, weren’t there?” Tom asked.

  “Only a couple hundred of them,” the detective shot back.

  “Did any of them see me shoot the Steeles?”

  “No.” The admission was grudging. “No one saw the actual shooting. But several people saw you and another man running out of the ballroom immediately after the shooting. When I put that together with your fake identification and the gun we found with you, I add up two and two and get four. If you weren’t the shooter, then I figure you for an accessory to the murders.”

  Tom stared at the detective, and Tina could see him trying to force himself to remember. She stepped forward to tell the detective to leave, but Tom grabbed her hand.

  “Wait,” he said without looking at her.

  “What about my gun? Was it the murder weapon?” he asked the detective.

  “We’re checking that. And we’ll need a set of fingerprints from you to run through the computer.”

  “Then all your evidence is circumstantial,” Tom said slowly. “It wouldn’t hold up in a court of law.”

  Detective Jones snorted. “Would this be called selective amnesia? For someone who claims they can’t remember anything, you sure sound like you know what you’re talking about.”

  Tom leaned back against the pillows, weariness etched on his face. “I told you, Detective, I can’t help what I can remember. And I don’t know why I know that. I just do.”

  “And I know this—” Detective Jones leaned closer to Tom “—don’t plan on leaving town once you get out of the hospital, Mr. Flynt.” There was a subtle emphasis on Tom’s name. “We may not have any direct evidence yet, but I’ll find it. And then I’ll nail you.”

  “You’re welcome to try,” Tom shot back. “I want to know the truth as much as you do.”

  The detective straightened. “We’ll see if you’re singing the same tune in a few days.”

  “In a few days, I hope I’ll have regained my memory and I’ll be able to tell you everything you want to know,” Tom said coolly.

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  The detective nodded once at Tom, his eyes hard and suspicious, then turned and walked out of the room. Tina waited until his footsteps had faded away, then she dropped down onto the chair next to Tom’s bed.

  “He called you a suspect,” she whispered, appalled.

  “He more than suspects. He’s certain,” Tom answered bluntly.

  “How can he act that way?” she cried. “What happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty’?”

  “He’s a cop, Tina,” Tom said, his voice weary. “He’s going with what he has. And I look damned guilty.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “My driver’s license is phony, and the only address they have for me is a vacant lot in St. Louis. Plus I was carrying a gun. If I were a cop, I’d be just as suspicious.”

  “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.” Her voice sounded desperate.

  Tom finally smiled. “Thank you,” he said, and he reached out and took her hand. “Thank you for taking my side. But I have to face the facts. Maybe I did have something to do with those people’s deaths.”

  “You didn’t,” she said automatically. “You’re not a killer. You can’t be.”

  Tom looked at Tina then, and for just a moment she saw his fear. Then it was gone, replaced by a warmth that made her breathless. “Your belief in me means more than I can tell you. But I won’t know if I had anything to do with the murders until I get my memory back.”

  “You’ll remember,” she said, and heard the fierceness in her voice. “Then Detective Jones will have to look somewhere else.”

  Tom twined his fingers with hers and brought her hand to his mouth. “Thank you.” His voice was hushed in the still, dark room. “I hope I don’t disappoint you when we know the truth.”

  “You won’t.” Tina studied Tom’s face, unable to see even a hint of guilt or evil there. He wasn’t a killer. She was sure of it. And if that made her a fool, she didn’t care.

  He brushed his lips against the back of her hand, then turned her hand over and pressed a kiss into her palm. Blood thickened in her veins and her heart began to pound as his lips lingered. Her skin felt scorched where he’d touched her. She felt her hand tremble, and felt Tom’s hand shaking, too.

  “You need to go home and get some sleep,” he said. But he didn’t let her hand go, and she didn’t pull away. It was late at night, and her common sense and natural caution had vanished. She didn’t care about sleeping. She didn’t care that she had to be back at work early the next afternoon. All she wanted to do was sit in this room with Tom, holding his hand.

  “Tina,” he whispered, turning toward her.

  “What?” She stared at him, unable to breathe, unable to move.

  He was inches away from her when he stopped suddenly, then leaned back against the pillows. He gently disengaged his hand from hers, then curled his hand into a fist and closed his eyes. “Go home.”

  “I’m not ready to go home.”

  Tom opened his eyes and looked at her. “Yes, you are. Go home, Tina. Get some sleep. And don’t have too much faith in me. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “You won’t,” she whispered.

  “That remains to be seen.” He opened his eyes after a moment and managed to smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Slowly, she stood up. “I’ll be in early.”

  His smile deepened, extended to his eyes. “I know. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

  She resisted the impulse to bend down and kiss him, shocking herself with the thought. “Good night,” she said quickly, then hurried from the room. She paused in the hallway, took a deep breath, then walked quickly back to the nurses’ station and grabbed her belongings. She didn’t even notice the cool air hitting her overheated face as she rushed to her car. She needed to be back in her own home, where she belonged. She needed to be grounded, to remember what couldn’t be. And there was no place better for that than her home, the house she’d lived in for her whole life. If she needed any reminders about getting involved with a man, all she had to do was look aroun
d her house and remember.

  Tom forced himself to be patient for the next day, and the day after that. But no more memories returned, in spite of the odd little flashes of knowledge he had. It was all there, he knew. But it was hidden behind a veil, and no amount of struggling allowed him to rip that veil aside. His past, his identity, were still in limbo.

  The only reality in his life was Tina, and she was becoming far too important to him. He hardly slept at all the night after Detective Jones’s visit, and it wasn’t because of the detective’s accusations. It was because he had almost kissed Tina.

  He spent half his time cursing himself for allowing the attraction between them to flame out of control, and half his time regretting that he had stopped before he kissed her.

  Tina breezed into his room late in the afternoon of his fourth day in the hospital. “The nurses said the neurologist was in to see you this morning. She hasn’t written her notes in the chart yet. What did she have to say?”

  “That nothing had changed. It was a big surprise to me,” he said sourly.

  Tina sat down in the chair next to his bed. “You’re doing fine. You’re remembering more every day.”

  “I remembered that I like the Chicago Cubs. Now that’s a real breakthrough.”

  Tina laughed. “It tells me what kind of person you are.”

  “And what kind is that? Terminally stupid?”

  “Of course not. You’re loyal, and an optimist, and an incurable romantic.”

  He laughed in spite of himself. Tina could always cheer him up when he was feeling sorry for himself. “I guess that’s one way to describe a Cubs fan.” His smile faded. “Maybe it means I’m originally from the Chicago area.”

  “Did you call Detective Jones and tell him?”

  Tom shook his head. “Not yet. But I should.”

  “Why don’t you contact that other detective who was working with Jones? I think his name was Richardson. He seemed a lot more sympathetic. At least he acted like he believed you have amnesia.”

  “Maybe I will. It wouldn’t hurt to check the Chicago area.”

  “Would you like me to call him for you and ask him to stop by?”

  “Thanks, but I’ll do it. I want to hear his voice when I talk to him.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t know.” Tom paused with his hand on the phone. “I have no idea. But I know it’s important that I listen to him.”

  “Go ahead, then.” She reached for the phone book that was in the room, and found the correct number. “Here you go.”

  Tom’s heart pounded as he listened to the phone ring. “Grand Springs Police Station,” a bored voice finally said. Tom asked for Detective Stone Richardson, and listened to the clicks as he was connected.

  “Richardson here.”

  “Detective, this is Tom Flynt. I’ve remembered a small detail that might not help your investigation, but might help you find out who I am.”

  “Great. I was going to come see you anyway. Can I come over right now?” Richardson asked immediately.

  “Thank you. I would appreciate that.” Tom hung up the phone and turned to Tina. “He’s coming right over.”

  “Great.” Tina gave him a warm smile, and he wanted to reach for her. He’d wanted to reach for her every time he’d seen her since that night in his room. But just like every other time, he resisted.

  She had been more distant since that night, too. It was for the best, he told himself. Until he knew who and what he was, he had no business getting involved with Tina.

  “Dr. Wilson said you’re doing so well that he might consider releasing you tomorrow,” she said.

  “Yeah, he told me the same thing. Maybe then I can take a look at some of the places around town. It might jog my memory.”

  “Just because you’re leaving the hospital doesn’t mean you’re completely back to normal,” she warned. “You’re going to have to take it easy for a while.”

  “Doc Wilson said I have the hardest head of any patient he’s ever seen.”

  “And I’m sure he meant it figuratively as well as literally,” she said scowling.

  Tom grinned to himself. Tina was so protective that he knew just what buttons to push to get her going.

  “That doesn’t mean you can go running around Grand Springs tomorrow.”

  He allowed the smile to creep onto his face. “I know. But it’s so much fun to tease you.”

  Tina shook her head as she laughed and stood up. “I should know better by now, shouldn’t I?” Her smile faded a little. “Do you know where you’ll stay?”

  “In a hotel, I suppose.” He kept the smile on his face, although it felt forced. “I guess my credit cards are still good, even though they’re registered to a phony address. Apparently they’re still being paid.”

  “I checked with the emergency room for you. They didn’t find a hotel key that night. But there was so much confusion it probably got thrown away. Maybe the police will have figured out where you were staying,” she said.

  “Maybe so.” He didn’t think so. If he had, Detective Jones would have let him know, especially if they’d found anything incriminating.

  “We won’t let you leave without having a place for you to stay,” Tina said firmly. “I’ll look for a hotel for you myself, if I have to.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “You can’t stop me, either.” She grinned at him, then turned to go. “My other patients are probably wondering where I am. I’ll see you later.”

  She was almost at the door when he said, “Tina?”

  She turned around immediately. “Yes?”

  “Will you come by when Detective Richardson gets here? I’d like you to be here when I talk to him.”

  “Of course. I’ll keep an eye open for him.”

  Twenty minutes later, Tina stuck her head into the room. “Tom?” she called.

  “Is Richardson here?” he asked.

  “Yes. Do you want me to send him in?”

  “Please.”

  Tina turned and spoke to someone behind her in the hall, then Stone Richardson walked in. Tina followed him and closed the door.

  “I have some news for you, Flynt,” Stone said. “We found out where you were staying.”

  Tom’s heart began to pound. “Where?”

  “In an extended-stay hotel on the outskirts of town. It’s one of those places that cater to business travelers who need to stay in a town more than a few days. It’s more like a small apartment than a hotel—it has a bedroom and a kitchen and a living room.” He grinned at Tom. “All the comforts of home.”

  “How did you find it?”

  “I went to all the hotels in town to see if you were registered.”

  Tom tightened his hands on the rail next to his bed. “And was I registered as Tom Flynt?”

  “You were. The clerk even recognized your picture.”

  “Could he tell you anything else?”

  “Only that you said you were from St. Louis.”

  Tom’s heart began to pound. “What address did I give them?”

  Stone watched him carefully. “The same address that’s on your P.O. box.”

  “You mean the vacant lot.”

  “Yes.”

  “I suppose you got a search warrant and went through the room?”

  “We did. Jones was very thorough. But he didn’t find a thing.” Stone’s gray eyes bored into him. “And how did you know we would have to get a search warrant?”

  Tom shrugged. “Too much television, I guess.” But the question had shaken him. He had known instinctively that the police would need a search warrant to go through his belongings. How had he known that? Was it because he was a criminal and had been served with search warrants in the past? He’d like to think it was because he was involved in law enforcement, but that seemed unlikely. Surely the Grand Springs police would have known.

  “What did you want to tell me?” Stone’s voice interrupted his thoughts and jerked him bac
k to the present.

  “I wanted to tell you that I remembered that I’m a Chicago Cubs baseball fan.”

  “You have my sympathy,” Richardson said immediately, grinning.

  Tom’s answering smile was reluctant. “So I gather. But I thought it might help to locate my family.”

  The detective’s smile faded. “I’ll start looking in the Chicago area. But it might not lead to anything,” he warned. “Maybe you only lived there for a few years and moved on.”

  “I know. But it’s better than nothing.”

  The detective regarded him with sympathy. “You’ll figure it out. Your memory will all come back.”

  “Tell me, Richardson, do you think I’m involved with those murders?”

  “Absolutely.” Stone answered without hesitation. “You’re connected to them somehow. But until I know exactly how, I’m reserving judgment.”

  “Your partner hasn’t done that.”

  “Bob sees things in black and white. It’s a useful viewpoint for a cop, but I prefer shades of gray.”

  Tom nodded. It was the best he could expect, and he respected the other man for his honesty. “Thanks, Detective.”

  “Don’t mention it. I’ll start working on a possible Chicago connection.” He glanced over at Tina, then back at Tom. “The doc says you might be getting out of the hospital tomorrow. Keep us posted. And don’t leave Grand Springs.”

  “Don’t worry. Until I remember who I am, I don’t have anyplace to go.”

  “Right.” Richardson nodded to Tina, then to him, and left the room.

  “Well, at least you know where you’ll be going when you leave,” Tina said brightly. “And maybe looking at your belongings will jog your memory.”

  “I hope so,” he said quietly.

  Before Tina could answer, the door to the room opened and Dr. Wilson walked in. “Hi, Tina. Tom.”

  Tina nodded to him, and Tom thought he saw a whisper of regret on her face. She stared at the doctor as if she were bracing herself for something.

  “I’ve got good news. I’ve written your release,” the doctor said to Tom. “You can leave the hospital tomorrow.”