by Curry, Edna
“Okay, consider some of it a loan, then. If you find you have plenty of money when you get your memory back and know where you belong, you can repay me.”
“Of course I will. But what if that doesn’t happen? Or I’m poor and don’t have a job?”
“Then I’ll still write it off. Come on, Jane. Humor me.”
“You’re too nice.” Jane bit her lip to keep back tears of gratitude.
“Now, how about some blouses with wide sleeves to hide the bandage on your arm?”
“Good idea.”
“Would you prefer slacks or skirts to wear with them?”
“I think I prefer slacks.”
“All right, they’re over here on these two racks. I don’t have any designer ones like you were wearing when we found you, though.” Marion pulled a pair from the rack and displayed it over her arm to Jane.
“I’m sure whatever you have will be fine. But no, not that brand. The legs are always too short for me.”
Marion gaped at her. “You can remember a detail like that about a brand of slacks, but not your own name? That’s really very odd.”
Jane flushed, thinking about what she’d said. “Yes, that is odd, isn’t it? But I know I like the way these fit better.” She took a couple pairs off the rack and draped them over her arm, then spread the others on the rack apart so she could see their design and fabric.
Two little girls charged through the store aisle, almost knocking Jane down as one chased the other. Jane stepped back quickly, barely avoiding the collision.
“Whoa, there, girls,” she said in a firm, no nonsense voice. “Slow down and watch where you’re going. It’s not nice to run into people indoors.”
The girls immediately stopped and turned to stare at Jane wide-eyed. “Yes, Ma’am,” they said in unison, their faces turning pink.
A red-faced young woman hurried from the mall common area into the dress shop and grabbed one of the girls by the arm. “There you are. Why can’t you ever mind?” She turned to Jane and said apologetically, “I’m so sorry, Miss. Did they run into you? They know they’re supposed to stay with me.”
“It’s quite all right,” Jane said. “No harm done.”
“Apologize to the lady,” the mother said.
“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” both girls said immediately.
“Are you one of the new teachers in town?” the girls’ mother asked.
“Why no,” Jane said. “I’m … ah … just visiting Marion.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry again. I hope they didn’t mess anything up in your store, Marion. They really do know better. Come along, girls. Daddy’s waiting for us in the car.”
Jane stared after the woman as she hustled the girls out to the street. “I wonder why she thought I was a teacher?”
Marion laughed. “It was probably because you sounded like one.”
“I did?”
“Yes. And you didn’t hesitate to discipline another woman’s child. Most women wouldn’t do that. But teachers do that without thinking. I suppose that’s because they have to do it all day at school. It’s part of their job.”
“Oh.” Jane chewed her lip thoughtfully.
“Would you like to try those on? The changing rooms are right over there.”
“Of course.”
As she tried on the clothes, Jane considered what the woman and Marion had said. Could she be a teacher? Certainly she hadn’t thought twice about giving those girls orders. Nor had she been embarrassed when what she’d done was pointed out to her. It just felt like the correct thing to do under the circumstances.
Why couldn’t she remember important things when she could remember stupid stuff like which brand names of clothes she liked? With a heavy sigh, she slipped into the slacks and saw with satisfaction that they fit perfectly, as she’d known they would.
~ * ~
Mel tried to concentrate on his work, but Jane’s predicament kept intruding on his thoughts instead.
So much for not getting involved. He knew he was identifying her with his late sister, but he couldn’t help it. She’d gotten under his skin way too fast.
At lunch time, he drove over to Ben’s office to ask the sheriff if he’d learned anything.
“No missing person fitting her description has been reported,” Ben said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his hands behind his head. “Her prints aren’t in the FBI’s database, either,” he said. “But that only means no one had any reason to take her prints.”
“So, whose prints would be in their database besides criminals?” Mel asked.
“Registered aliens, military personnel like you, anybody who ever worked for any government office or in law enforcement, like me, for instance,” Ben said, chuckling. “Or lots of school kids since they started that program requesting prints be on file for identification purposes.”
“Oh, yeah, and employees of any company with a government defense contract,” Mel said. “I remember now. A few years ago, my sister told me they took her fingerprints when she worked for a manufacturer that had some defense contracts. She thought it odd, because she only had a low level office job with them at the time.”
“You never know who might have access to sensitive info, I suppose,” Ben speculated. “Or who might be more knowledgeable than they seem.”
“Yeah.” Mel fidgeted in his chair. “But, Ben, back to Jane. Wouldn’t you think someone would report her missing? I mean, someone should miss her, like her family or her boss if she didn’t show up for work, wouldn’t you think?”
Ben nodded. “I’d think so. On the other hand, Marion says her clothes were expensive. Maybe she didn’t work. I mean, she could be a debutante, or the stay-at-home wife of some rich guy, couldn’t she?”
“You mean like the one I saw push her off the cliff?” Mel shot him an angry glance.
Ben sighed. “You know it could be. She might already be married, you know, even if she’s not wearing rings. It could turn out to be a very messy situation, like domestic abuse.”
Mel closed his eyes. Oh no, not that. He didn’t even want to go there again.
“If the guy on the cliff was her husband, that would explain why no one reported her missing. He could be covering for her absence, like telling people who might notice her missing that she went to visit relatives or something. Or maybe they were on a trip together and just traveling through this area.”
“I suppose.”
“Are you still pretty sure the person did it on purpose?” Ben asked, eyeing him.
“Oh yeah, I am. If it was an accident, why wouldn’t he have come running for help? I’d think that would be the first thing he’d do, to try to save her, wouldn’t you?”
Ben nodded. “Exactly. Why disappear if he wasn’t guilty? Running always makes a person look guilty as hell.”
“So assuming he did it on purpose. What happens next if he finds out she didn’t die? Won’t he be watching the papers for news of finding her body? And maybe come back to finish the job?”
“Yeah,” Ben said, sitting up and lighting a cigarette. “And now those damn reporters have spread it all over the area that she survived and are calling her their ‘mystery woman.’ At least they didn’t get a very good picture of her.”
“Yeah, thanks to her fear of publicity. I think we need to keep an eye out for this guy, Ben. She says she doesn’t remember being with anyone. But don’t you think we should talk to her some more about this? Let her know she might still be in danger?”
“No, not yet,” Ben said. “I talked to the doctor and he thinks she’ll gradually remember stuff on her own. She doesn’t need any more stress right now. He said she needs to relax and rest so her body can heal. He thinks shock and stress could be part of what’s blocking her memories. Telling her someone probably still is looking for her to kill her might delay her recovery.”
Mel sighed. “All right. But I wish there was something I could do to help her.”
Ben shrugged. “The doctor did say some lit
tle familiar things might suddenly trigger a memory for her. But he didn’t know what those things might be.”
“Could be anything, I suppose,” Mel said with a sigh. He thought of how lovely, yet vulnerable she’d looked, even with the bruises and scrapes and no makeup. He bet she’d be a knockout all dressed up.
Ben’s mouth twisted in a grin and he blew cigarette smoke at the ceiling. “Are you getting sweet on her, Mel?”
Mel flushed and shrugged. “She seems like a very nice woman. Too nice for anything like what that creep did to her.”
“You’re right about that. But watch your step, Mel. He could be very dangerous.”
“Yeah.”
“Another thing I’ve been thinking. She could be a celebrity of some kind. That would explain her fear of reporters.”
“And of the police?”
“Well, that could be just part of the publicity fear. Involving the police makes any kind of trouble public, you know.”
“I suppose. But I’ll still try to keep an eye on her.” Mel stood. “I’d better go eat and get back to work. See you later, Ben.”
~ * ~
Mel had barely settled back into work at his computer when Jane and Marion returned carrying several large shopping bags. Jane was looking pale and tired, though she smiled at him and said hello.
Damn it, was she all right? He hated seeing her looking so fragile. Even her voice sounded tight and stressed.
Marion waved at him and said, “I’ll help her take these upstairs, Mel. Then Jane is due for a nap.”
Jane started to object, but Marion put up a hand. “Doctor’s orders, remember?”
“Good,” he said, relieved at Marion’s command. “I’ll see you later.”
Jane shrugged and nodded. “All right.” She followed Marion upstairs.
When Marion came back down, Mel asked, “She’s looking pretty worn out. Everything go okay?”
Marion nodded. “She remembered which brands of clothes fit her properly and which don’t. And at the drugstore, she knew exactly which brands and colors of makeup she liked.”
“Really? Don’t you think it’s kind of odd to remember things like that, but not your name? Do you think she’s faking?”
Marion shook her head. “No, I don’t. I looked up amnesia on the internet and they said it was rather common to remember some things and not others.”
“Oh.” He should have thought of looking it up.
Marion added, “One of the local ladies thought she was a teacher.”
“Really? Why?”
”She acts like a teacher when she’s around kids. A couple of girls raced through my store and she sounded just like one, I swear. The girls immediately stopped running and treated her with respect, so they thought so, too.”
Mel considered. “That sounds logical, except for the designer clothes. Most teachers I know don’t wear them.”
Marion shrugged. “She could have come from a family with money, you know.”
“I suppose.”
“She’s determined to stand on her own two feet. She insists she will pay me back for the clothes and stuff.” Marion cast Mel a frustrated, worried look. “You know I didn’t do it to sell her stuff from my shop. I meant it as a gift.”
Mel gave her a reassuring hug. “I know that, Marion. And you have the only shop in town, so where else would she get the clothes she needs? It’s really very nice of you to help.”
“No problem. Well, back to work. Lois is a taskmaster, you know,” she said with a grin.
Mel laughed and watched her stride out to her car. She was right, of course. Her buxom part-time helper did act more like she was the owner of Marion’s dress shop than Marion did.
As he turned back to work, he pondered Jane’s problem. What familiar things might help trigger her memory? What could he do to help?
The door opened and a casually dressed young man walked into his office. “Are you Mel Jonner?”
Mel rose, eyeing the young man. He didn’t recognize him, but some of his clients came from the surrounding areas or neighboring towns. “Yes, I am. Can I help you?”
The man lifted a camera and snapped a picture of Mel behind his desk.
“I’m with the St. Cloud News. I understand ‘the mystery woman’ is staying here? Can I talk to her and get a close-up picture? Nobody seems to have a good one yet.”
Not a client. Just another damned reporter. Mel swore and started toward the man. “No, you can’t talk to her. Get the hell out of here!”
“Okay, Man. Stay cool!” The man backed out of the door, turned and ran to his car. He turned back and snapped another quick picture of Mel frowning in the doorway of his house, then jumped in his car and roared away.
Mel locked the door after him, sighing. He supposed there was no stopping the news from getting out. Obviously, someone in town had told the reporter where Jane was staying. She was listed in the report of the police rescue attempt and hospital records also.
Well, one thing he could do, he decided grimly, was to protect her from these damn reporters. It seemed like every other phone call today had been from a reporter wanting to interview ‘the mystery woman.’ She didn’t have to know about that, at least.
Chapter 6
Hours later, Jane, obviously dressed in one of the new outfits she’d gotten today, came back downstairs. His groin tightened at the sight of her. This outfit was a soft mint green slacks and blouse set which was a couple of shades lighter than her eyes and complemented her fair skin and chestnut red hair.
The blouse was a simple shirtwaist style, but he couldn’t help noticing that she filled it out very nicely. And the soft fabric of the slacks emphasized her long, slim legs. What would they feel like wrapped around him in the heat of passion? He swallowed and pushed away the erotic image. “Are you feeling better?”
She nodded. “I guess I needed that nap.”
“I’m about ready to quit for the night. Would you like to go out to eat?”
“Sure.” She wandered to the window and stood staring out at the river as he shut down his computer and straightened his desk.
“You have a good view of the river and the dam from here, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Her comment brought back the scary memories of seeing her fall off the cliff into the water. Involuntarily, he shuddered. He wondered again about the man who’d been with her. Ben had been able to keep that information out of the papers, at least. He wished he knew if she was still in danger from the guy.
“Could we walk along the river?”
He hesitated, eyeing her. Was that a good idea? Or would it upset her more? She seemed calm enough about the idea. Or maybe she wasn’t so calm. He read a grim determination in her face. “All right, if you’d like to.”
They left his house and walked along the path that followed the riverbank. She was tall, only a couple inches shorter than he was, he noted. They would fit together nicely.
He shouldn’t be attracted to her, but he was. He knew nothing about her. Remember the man she was with, he reminded himself. He had to have had strong feelings for her to want to kill her. Maybe she has strong feelings for him as well. Maybe she still will care for him despite it all when she gets her memory back.
She stumbled on the uneven path and she grabbed his arm to steady herself. Awareness shot through him at the touch. “Watch your step,” he warned, his voice sounding a bit strangled.
He had to get a grip on himself before he tried taking her in his arms and kissing her, right here in plain sight.
He was relieved to see another couple walking along the path toward them. The presence of others would make it easier for him to behave.
“Thanks.” She released his arm and looked down as she walked for a minute, then stopped to look out over the water. “The river has an odor, doesn’t it? It smells sort of damp and earthy.”
Jane tried to keep her voice light, but the smell of the river brought the panic back. She could almost feel the strength of the co
ld water, sweeping her along as she instinctively held her breath underwater until her lungs felt like they were ready to burst. Frantically, she’d moved her legs, trying to break the surface to get a mouthful of air. She’d succeeded and grabbed a breath, but then the current had pulled her under again.
Mel laughed now at her comment, bringing her back to the present. “And sometimes the river smells like dead fish.” He steered her around a rotting carcass that some fisherman had left behind.
She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. What time is it?”
He glanced at his watch. “About five-thirty.”
“The sun is still fairly high.” The sun had shone in her eyes, reflecting off the water that day, too.
“Yes. We’re almost to the summer solstice, the longest day of the year.”
The other couple passed them, exchanged greetings and moved on down the path.
Jane pushed away the awful memories. She stopped and pointed. “Oh, look, a pelican caught a fish. How interesting. You must enjoy being this close to nature.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Do you go out on the river?”
“Sometimes. I have a small fishing boat. And a friend has a larger boat we use when we go up river for picnics or for waterskiing.”
“I like to water ski,” she said. “There’s something about sailing over the water that’s almost like flying!”
“You’re a good swimmer then?”
She stared at him. “I--I guess so. I remember fighting the current when I was in the river, so yes, I’m a good swimmer. I wouldn’t water ski if I couldn’t swim, would I?”
“Probably not. And you must be a good swimmer to have survived that long in the river.”
“That long?” Puzzled, her brows dipped.
He pointed toward the dam, far up river, where they could see the curtain of moving water pouring over the precipice. “You fell into the river from that cliff up there by the bear trap beside the dam. We found you at my cabin which is several miles downstream. Not very many people would have survived that long, as strong as the current is along here. Under the bridge down there are the rapids where the water passes through huge rocks and is very turbulent.”
