What She Forgot Read online

  Andrea’s hands began to shake even harder. “I’m tired. I—I think I’ll go back to my room.”

  Troy was watching her carefully, that shadow of suspicion clouding his dark eyes. “We haven’t finished our talk.”

  “There’s nothing I can tell you.” She pushed herself up from the table. “I don’t know anything. I don’t remember anything.”

  Troy stood, too. “Who’re you trying to convince, Andrea? Me…or yourself?”

  “I know you don’t believe me,” she said with a desperate edge to her voice. “But I really don’t remember what happened. I don’t remember anything.”

  She tried to brush by him, but he snared her arm with his hand. “Then who is Mayela?” he asked, his eyes growing even darker with suspicion.

  “Wh-what?”

  “You were whispering her name in your sleep. Who is she, Andrea?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t believe you.” His eyes turned so cold Andrea felt chilled to the bone. “I don’t believe you can’t remember. I think you don’t want to remember. I think you’re afraid to remember. What did you do, Andrea? Whose blood was on your dress?”

  His hand on her arm sent a thrill of awareness through Andrea, but she kept her expression even. She didn’t want him to see how much his touch affected her. “Why don’t you just charge me with something if you’re so sure I’ve committed a crime? Why don’t you put me in jail and throw away the key?” Despite the bravado of her words, her mind screamed in denial. Don’t lock me in the dark room! Don’t leave me by myself!

  As if he’d glimpsed the terror in her eyes, he dropped his hand from her arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t hurt me.” And he hadn’t. Not the way he meant. His grip on her arm hadn’t been tight. She could have gotten away from him at any time, but he’d hurt her just the same. Hurt her with his doubts and suspicions.

  But who could blame him? If Andrea didn’t have doubts about herself, she would have confided in him days ago, wouldn’t she? She would have told him about the flashes of memory she was experiencing, about her nameless fear, about the man with the gray hair and the girl named Mayela. She would have told him about the knife…

  He lifted his hand and drew his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what came over me,” he muttered. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Forget it. I have.” But she hadn’t. She would never forget that look of suspicion in his eyes, the accusations. She would never again let herself forget that Sergeant Troy Stoner wasn’t a friend, no matter how much she might wish him to be. He was a cop who would do whatever necessary to find out her dark and deadly secrets.

  And she would do everything she could to make sure he didn’t. Because that was the only way she knew to save herself.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk you back to your room.” He was still looking shaken by what had happened. She suspected his loss of control was out of character for him, and the notion that she was responsible was more than a little frightening.

  “Don’t bother,” she said. “I think it’s time we call it a night.”

  He stopped, gazing down at her. Something flashed in his eyes. Disappointment? Andrea wished she could believe it was so. “Maybe you’re right,” he said slowly. “Maybe I should have called it a night a long time ago.”

  And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Andrea to wonder about this dark and dangerous man who wasn’t her husband.

  * * *

  MADISON CAME BY to visit Andrea the next afternoon. It was a strange visit. One minute, Madison was telling Andrea about her mother’s cat, which had triggered a memory of a kitten Andrea had had as a child. The next thing Andrea knew, Madison was patting her hand. “Wake up, Andrea.”

  Andrea opened her eyes and yawned. “What happened?”

  “You fell asleep.”

  “I did?” Panic curled inside her. Andrea moistened her lips. “Did I…talk in my sleep, or anything?”

  “No. You were sound asleep.” Madison smiled, but her usually open gaze looked a little reserved. “You obviously needed the rest.”

  “I do feel refreshed,” Andrea said. She felt as if she’d just awakened from a full night’s sleep, except for the persistent notion that she’d been dreaming about something important. Something revealing. It was like peeking through a piece of cloth. She could see shadows, but nothing concrete. Nothing real.

  Her forehead knitted as an image began to clarify.

  There he was again, that gray-haired man with the careworn face.

  “I can see him,” Andrea murmured.

  “Who?”

  Andrea put out her hand, as if to touch the image. He was looking at her, his eyes shadowed with pain.

  An overwhelming sense of sadness came over her. She felt like crying.

  “What is it, Andrea? What are you remembering?”

  As she continued to watch, the memories unfolded like scenes from a movie. As if in slow motion, the gray-haired man crumpled to the floor. Blood oozed through his fingers where he clasped his chest, and someone screamed, I hate you! I want you dead!

  A tear rolled down Andrea’s face. She felt Madison touch her hand, and she wiped the tear away with her fingertips.

  “You remembered something, didn’t you?” Madison asked quietly.

  “No, it was just—” What? A man dying? A man being murdered? Who had killed him? And why?

  I’ve changed my will, Andrea. When my time comes, you will be well taken care of.

  I want you dead. Dead! Dead! Dead!

  Andrea’s heart thundered in her ears. She looked down at her nightgown, seeing the blood-splattered white dress.

  Dear God, what have I done? she wondered frantically. What have I done?

  * * *

  “SHE FELL ASLEEP,” Madison said.

  “Fell asleep? Just like that?” Troy sat across the table from his sister in the hospital cafeteria.

  Madison stirred lemon into her tea. “It was really strange, almost as if…”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. Almost as if she’d fallen into a hypnotic trance.”

  Troy frowned at his sister. “Did you hypnotize her?”

  “No. At least not intentionally.”

  “Can you do that unintentionally?” His tone was skeptical.

  “Not unless there’s some sort of trigger that’s been implanted in her subconscious that I might have stumbled upon purely by accident.”

  Troy’s frown deepened. “I don’t follow.”

  “Once a patient becomes comfortable with hypnosis, a therapist will sometimes use a word or a phrase, often an image, that triggers instant relaxation. The patient can fall almost immediately into a deep trance.”

  “You think that’s what happened with Andrea?”

  “Not necessarily. I’m only speculating. It’s curious, though, because the other day when I mentioned hypnosis to her, she seemed frightened by the notion.”

  Troy sat back in his chair and studied his sister thoughtfully. Something was bothering her. He could tell by the way her dark eyes were having trouble meeting his. “Just tell me one thing,” he said. “Do you believe her memory loss is real?”

  Madison shrugged. “It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to fake amnesia, but honestly? I’m inclined to believe her. I think she may have had flashes of memory, bits and pieces that have come back to her, but Troy…it’s what she can’t remember that worries me. What she won’t let herself remember.”

  Troy nodded. “It worries me, too.” It worried him that she had been found wandering down a busy street, with O-positive blood covering her clothing. It worried him that she had a bruise on her arm and a wedding band on her finger, and it worried him that he couldn’t seem to get her out of his mind, that he dreamed about her at night and woke up thinking about her each morning.

  It worried him that he didn’t know what the hell he was going to do about her. His choice should
have been clear. In fact, there shouldn’t even be a choice. She was a married woman. Therefore, no matter what she might or might not have done, she was off-limits to him.

  Troy liked to think of himself as an honorable man. A man who didn’t go after someone else’s wife. But Andrea had gotten under his skin as no other woman ever had. Not even Cassandra Markham, who had almost gotten him killed.

  Just then, Troy saw Tim Seavers walk into the cafeteria, and he raised his hand and motioned him over.

  “Pull up a chair,” he invited when Tim had walked over to their table.

  Tim sat down. “I’m glad I ran into you,” he said to Troy. “I’ve been meaning to call you, but I haven’t had a chance. I’m releasing Andrea tomorrow.”

  “Releasing her?” Madison asked with a note of alarm in her voice. “Where will she go?”

  “I don’t know. But there’s no physical reason for her to remain hospitalized, and we don’t have enough beds to keep her any longer than necessary.”

  Madison turned her dark eyes on Troy. “Where will she go, Troy?”

  He shrugged carelessly, but he was wondering the same thing himself. Where would she go? She had no money, no credit cards, and she still didn’t know her last name. He supposed she could hock her bracelet and wedding ring, but those funds wouldn’t last forever. What if her memory never came back?

  Not your problem, a little voice warned him. The same little voice that cautioned him each and every time he was about to do something stupid. For all the good it did.

  “I have an idea,” Madison said.

  “I don’t like it,” Troy said.

  “You haven’t even heard it yet!”

  “I know, but I don’t like that gleam in your eyes.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Madison scoffed. “My idea is perfectly feasible. Andrea can come stay with me.”

  “Isn’t that violating some sort of doctor-patient thing?” Troy asked skeptically. In truth, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Madison’s proposal. On the one hand, it would keep Andrea close by, so that he could keep an eye on her. On the other hand, it would keep Andrea close by.

  “I’m not her psychiatrist,” Madison reasoned. “I’m trying to be her friend. Under the circumstances, I think it’s the perfect solution.”

  “She’s right, Troy,” Tim said. “Otherwise, where else would she go? I’d hate to think of her living in the shelters.”

  Madison looked appalled. “You can’t send her to a shelter. She wouldn’t last a day.”

  Troy didn’t want to think about Andrea in the shelters, either, for any number of reasons, but he had a feeling she was a lot tougher than any of them thought.

  “Okay,” he said. “I see there’s no talking you out of this. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Madison smiled at him in reassurance. “Don’t worry about me. Don’t worry about Andrea, either. We’ll be fine.”

  But Troy couldn’t help worrying. His sister had a habit of picking up strays, and sometimes those strays had a tendency to bite the hand that fed them.

  * * *

  BEFORE GOING HOME that night, Troy decided to swing by the hospital to see how Andrea had taken the news of Madison’s proposal. It was late, and the hospital corridors were all but deserted. No one was manning the desk at the nurses’ station, and Troy supposed whoever was on duty had been summoned by a patient. He turned the corner and started down the hall when he noticed a doctor wearing green scrubs standing outside Andrea’s room. He was pushing open her door with one hand while holding a syringe in the other. It seemed awfully late for a doctor to be paying a call on a patient, and as far as Troy knew, Andrea wasn’t receiving any medication.

  He called down the hallway. “Tim?”

  At the sound of Troy’s voice, the doctor’s head jerked toward him. Troy was still some distance away. He had only a brief impression of a surgical mask and cap covering most of the face before the doctor whipped around and took off running down the hallway.

  “Hey!” Troy bolted after him, but the green-clad figure was already disappearing around a corner. Sliding on the polished tile floor, Troy took the same corner seconds later. A service elevator was located halfway down the next corridor. Just as Troy reached it, the doors slid closed, and the car began to descend.

  Pounding the doors in frustration, Troy turned and located the entrance to the stairwell. He slung the metal door back so hard, it bounced off the wall, then slammed with a bang behind him as he charged down the stairs two at a time. Halfway to the bottom, he jumped over the railing to the lower level and continued down six more flights.

  There was something ominous about the way the green-clad figure had been lurking outside Andrea’s door. Something dangerous about the syringe he held in one hand. Troy had no idea who the figure might have been, but he damn well intended to find out.

  Panting hard, his heart beating like a piston inside his chest, he reached the ground floor and slammed open the stairwell door just as the elevator bell sounded outside. Troy raced down the corridor toward the elevators, automatically reaching for his revolver. He got himself into position just a split second before the doors slid open.

  There was no one inside.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Madison’s west-side town house was situated in a deeply wooded cul-de-sac a few blocks over from Memorial, in a quiet, elegant part of town. As Madison fished in her bag for the key, Andrea took a moment to look around.

  Although the complex was modest in appearance, there was no mistaking the exclusivity of the neighborhood. The postage-stamp front lawns were emerald green and lushly landscaped with crape myrtle, hibiscus and scarlet bougainvillea. No cars were parked along the street. No trash cans lined the walkways. The scene was almost surreal in its tranquillity and a direct contradiction to Andrea’s inner turmoil.

  She’d talked with Troy earlier that morning before being discharged from the hospital, and he’d told her about seeing someone outside her hospital room last night. Someone dressed in green scrubs and a mask, so that his or her identity was protected. Someone who ran away when Troy called out.

  Andrea’s heart tumbled inside her as she thought about her first night in the hospital, when she thought someone had been in her room. She’d managed to convince herself her imagination had been playing tricks on her, but now she wasn’t so sure.

  Who had been lurking outside her door last night? Not a friend, surely. No friend would have tried to visit her so late, hiding his identity. No friend would have run away.

  Then who? An enemy? It was staggering to think that someone out there might want to harm her, that someone could actually hate her enough to want her dead. Even though she didn’t remember why, Andrea had absolutely no doubt whatsoever that she was in danger. And now so was Madison.

  Andrea had been so touched last evening by Madison’s invitation to stay with her and so relieved because she really didn’t have any place else to go. But now Andrea wasn’t so sure they were doing the wise thing. Was it fair to put Madison’s life in danger, as well?

  But Madison wouldn’t take no for an answer, even after Troy had told them about last night. She’d insisted Andrea come home with her, and that was the end of it.

  Troy, however, had looked less certain. He, too, had his doubts about this arrangement, and Andrea knew it wasn’t just because of the man outside her hospital room last night. Troy still had his doubts about her. He still wasn’t convinced she was an innocent victim in all this, and truth be told, Andrea couldn’t say she was all that sure herself. The images she’d been seeing, the feelings she’d been experiencing—to put it mildly, it was all less than reassuring.

  She still didn’t know what kind of person she’d been, but she knew one thing about herself. She hadn’t told Troy or Madison about the flashes of memory she’d been having, so she knew she was capable of deceit.

  What else was she capable of?

  Madison finally got the door open, and the two of them stepped
into the cool interior of the town house. A tiled entry led into the large living area, which was light and airy, done for the most part in peach, cream and teal green. Several oil paintings hung from the walls, and when Andrea went to examine them more closely, she noticed they had all been signed by someone named Beverly Stoner.

  “My mother,” Madison explained, coming to stand beside Andrea. They were staring at a scene that seemed vaguely familiar, a paved courtyard and stone fountain. The picture seemed so real that Andrea could almost feel the spray from the water on her face.

  “It’s very beautiful,” she said softly, the beginning of a memory tugging at the corners of her mind. And then it burst upon her with the force of a juggernaut. Andrea stared at the painting as the images rushed through her.

  “Do people really live like this? It’s like a palace!”

  Someone laughed. A young woman with jet black hair and onyx eyes. Her voice sounded like music. “Oh, Andrea, you’re so much fun! This place is far from being a palace. It isn’t even the biggest house in River Oaks.”

  “But it’s so beautiful!” Andrea let her hand trail through the cool water that splashed from the stone fountain. The spray misted her face, and she closed her eyes. “I love it here. I wish I never had to leave.”

  “Why would you have to leave? Mayela adores you. We all do.”

  An almost unbearable sadness came over Andrea because she knew sooner or later she would have to leave. She didn’t belong in a place like this. She didn’t belong anywhere….

  And then the memories seemed to fast-forward, and another scene played out in Andrea’s mind.

  The same fountain splashed in the same lovely courtyard, but a different woman was speaking to her this time. She, too, had dark hair and black eyes, but she was older, and instead of a soft, lilting voice, her tone was icy with scorn.

  “My daughter felt sorry for you, took pity on you. She brought you into her home, treated you like a friend, and look how you repay her. By betraying her memory. You’re nothing but a cheap, backstabbing, little gold digger. If Richard thinks I’ll stand by and see the two of you married, with my Christina not even cold in the ground—”