Thomas nodded. “They’re finished with it.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Rob. About this morning. I just needed to talk to her first.”

He looked at the detective. “You’re not a fraction as sorry as that fucker will be if I find him before you do.”

Chapter Four

When Nancy Russell’s shift ended, Laura relaxed a little after the nurse took the time to introduce her daytime counterpart before leaving Laura in her care for the MRI series.

The nurse stayed with Laura throughout her MRI, while the deputy sat in the control room with the technicians. When they’d first mentioned leaving Laura in there alone, she’d started to panic until a nursing supervisor okayed it.

Laura found the machine loud and confining, and she wondered if she’d ever been in one before.

It doesn’t feel familiar.

They had placed her head in a brace to hold it still for the MRI series. She closed her eyes and asked them to turn up the music to help drown out the hammering sound a little. It was a soft rock station, and during one of the commercial breaks she found herself humming along with their station jingle.

Her eyes popped open. Another spark, just not enough to kindle a large flame of memory.

Pt. Charlotte. They’d told her that before, but now it felt more real. She struggled for a state.

Florida. That was right. That’s where she was.

But I don’t live in this town, do I? She closed her eyes and listened intently to all the commercials. When an air conditioning company commercial played and listed their service areas, she realized she recognized some of the locales they mentioned.

Sarasota, Venice, North Port. A few flickers of recognition, but more shadows than anything.

Finally, an advertisement for a Ford dealer.

Englewood!

An image of a neatly kept condo complex popped into her head.

Mine?

The noise in the machine subsided for a moment while they adjusted it. The radiology technician asked how she was doing.

“I’m okay,” she replied, not sure if she was.

It struck her that with each little nugget of returning memory, it only served to emphasize just how much she didn’t remember.

Back in her room a short while later, the neurologist stopped by to see her. The deputy sat in the room with her while the doctor gave Laura a battery of tests and asked her numerous questions that seemed to have little to do with her situation.

Finally, frustrated, Laura dug in her heels.

“When am I going to get my memory back?”

The doctor sat. “I don’t know. It’s impossible for me to say if it’s due to the physical or the emotional trauma of the attack, or maybe both. Sometimes memories come back rapidly and completely. Sometimes long-term memories return while recent ones are lost. The sooner you regain your memory, the better a chance you have at getting it all back.”

“What are my options?”

“For now you need to heal from your physical injuries. There’s a medicine that’s sometimes used to help bring back memories, but I’m not about to prescribe it. Or you could try therapeutic hypnosis, although again, I can’t tell you if it’ll work or not. I’ll refer you to a psychiatrist.”

She bristled, although she didn’t know why. “I’m not crazy. I was attacked.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t say you are. But as a neurologist, my area of expertise is the physical condition of your brain. It’s up to a psychiatrist to look inside it. If your memory doesn’t return quickly and completely, they may want to try several different options before resorting to drastic measures. Even if you regain your long-term memory, you might not regain those from right around the time of the attack. You seem to be retaining new memories. It appears only previous memories are impacted.”

“Those are the ones I need right now.” Laura found herself quickly losing patience and had half a mind to tell him off.

Then it struck her that she didn’t know if she was normally a patient person or not.

“You’re fortunate to be alive,” he continued. “I know it’s frustrating, but you have to focus on healing your body first. We’ll monitor your progress and follow up after discharge. I really wish you’d consider seeing a psychiatrist. Attacks like this often bring on post-traumatic stress disorder, and that can also hinder how quickly your memories return.”

When the doctor and deputy left her alone, Laura collapsed against her pillows, the emotional drain almost as painful as her physical injuries.

She reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her face and realized for the first time that she had long, brown hair. Mindful of her sore ribs, she carefully sat up again and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

Her nurse came in and caught her. “Where do you think you’re going?” She moved to stop Laura from getting up.

They’d removed her catheter that morning and brought in a potty for her, but she was done with that. “I’m going to the bathroom.” She pointed at the potty. “I refuse to use that thing. I have a little dignity even if I don’t have my marbles.”

The nurse took her arm and steadied Laura as she slowly walked into the bathroom.

A battered, unknown face returned Laura’s gaze from the mirror. The bluish-grey eyes were all she sensed a kinship with. Her long, auburn hair hung in stringy clumps from not being washed in several days, and the stitches in her forehead appeared huge. Her nose was swollen, but they told her it somehow had miraculously escaped being broken in the attack. The black eyes looked like ugly purple moons on her high cheekbones.

When she reached up and touched her cheek, the woman in the mirror did the same.

This woman was a total stranger to her in nearly every way.

“Would you like to take a shower?” the nurse asked. “The doctor said we can take your IV out since you kept your breakfast down. We have to leave the Hep-Lock in, though, just in case. I can get an aide in here to help you.”

“That would be great, thank you.”

It was more a sponge bath than anything, because Laura’s cracked ribs made it hard for her to move. At least the aide helped her get her hair washed with water and shampoo and not just the waterless cap thingy they’d wanted her to use.

Freshening up raised her spirits a little.

Once she was back in bed, she asked if she could have a TV. Within an hour though, they’d moved her to a private room one floor up, her deputy bodyguard in tow.

She’d almost forgotten about Rob in the process, but they assured her they’d give him her updated room information.

Laura and the deputy sat and watched TV. She asked him questions, fascinated by familiar yet totally foreign images on the screen. She imagined it was like reading a textbook in school about a country you’d learned about but never visited.

I wonder if I’ve ever been out of the country.

Occasionally there was another blip, a fraction of a thought that struck home and fitted itself in her mind like a puzzle piece, usually triggered by local commercials. Despite being totally useless in a practical sense, every step was one closer.

* * *

Rob’s stomach tightly knotted as he made the half-hour drive from the hospital in Pt. Charlotte back to Englewood, to Laura’s. The condo complex was small, only six units, split into two one-story triplexes with a shared green space in the middle that both buildings backed up against.

He swallowed hard as he stared at the lock. He’d had new locks installed and hesitated before he inserted the key in the knob, unlocking it, then the deadbolt.

Slowly, he let the door swing open, revealing the entryway. The theory was Laura had willingly opened the door for her attacker. Maybe she’d known him, maybe she hadn’t. There were no marks on the outside of the door to indicate it being forced open, and it had been unlocked when her neighbor rushed in and scared off the attacker.

Tom himself appeared, sticking his head out his front door and then walking over when he recognized Rob. “How’s she doing?”

Rob nodded. “She’s awake.”

“That’s good!” He eyed Rob, then added, “Isn’t it?”

A sad heaviness settled over him as he pondered the words he had to say but didn’t want to accept. “She awoke from the coma with amnesia. Complete.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Oh. I’m so sorry. Do they know if she’ll get her memory back?”

“They don’t know. I’m here to get some things for her. Clothes, and pictures. Photo albums. They said maybe it’ll help.”

Tom patted him on the shoulder. “Please give her our best. We wanted to visit but didn’t want to intrude.”

“Thanks.” He swallowed back the lump in his throat. “And thank you for saving her.”

Tom’s gaze dropped. The older man looked a little embarrassed. “I wasn’t sure at first if I should go over.” He wouldn’t meet Rob’s gaze. “We’ve heard…you know. Sometimes.”

Rob felt his face heat. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “We didn’t know you could hear us.”

“No, it’s okay.” He finally smiled a little. “We were young once, too. It was when she kept screaming and yelling for help we realized it wasn’t just…you know, the two of you playing around. She never screams like that with you. She sounded terrified.”

Rob tried to process that, feeling sick in the depths of his gut.

Tom didn’t seem to know where to go from there. He just patted Rob on the shoulder again and retreated toward his door.