The mystery woman ate her breakfast while Deputy Katz explained how he had come to find her and where. The woman listened and occasionally asked questions that Brody had no answers to. Halfway through his cheese omelet, Brody saw the patient run her finger along the name tag taped on the metal lid that had once covered her breakfast plate.
“Jane Doe zero five three zero,” she mumbled. She lifted her head and gave the deputy a quizzical expression.
“Jane Doe is used for anyone we don’t know. The oh five three zero is the date I found you in the river,” Brody explained.
“Anyone? Do you find a lot of Jane Does?” she asked.
“No. I’ve never found anyone like you while fishing,” he quickly answered. The deputy didn’t want to tell her the name Jane Doe was typically used for people who were unknown and deceased.
“Do you think I look like a Jane Doe?” she asked.
“No, not at all,” Nurse Harper said, interjecting as she entered the room.
Brody turned toward the nurse and smiled. “I don’t think she does either.”
“Who do I look like then?”
Brody squinted and Harper pressed her lips together and both stared at the woman for a moment. Neither would tell the patient the truth about how she looked. Her head and arm were wrapped in bandages. Her legs, arms, feet, and face were scratched and bruised.
Brody was the first to say something. “Shannon,” he suggested.
Harper shook her head from side to side. “Nooooo,” she replied, in a tone that carried a lot of sass.
“Then who do you think, Harper?” the patient asked.
“I don’t know, but I think the name needs to fit you for the moment.”
Brody shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “For the moment?”
Harper dropped her arms to the side. “Yes! Something like River, Deckers, or… I don’t know, but it’ll just be temporary until she gets her memory back.”
Brody thought about it for a second longer, then came up with something. “I got it! How about Memory?”
Harper closed her eyes and thought about it for a moment. She opened them again, looked at the patient, and wrinkled her nose. “I think I like it!” she admitted.
The mystery woman grinned. “So do I.”
“Well, Memory, how was your omelet?” Brody asked.
Memory’s grin grew bigger. “To my recollection, it’s the best I’ve ever eaten!” she proclaimed and laughed aloud.
Brody and Harper looked at each other and then laughed along with Memory.
Detective John Wilson entered the hospital a few minutes before nine. He found Doctor Dawson, who updated him on the patient’s condition. A short time later, Detective Wilson entered the victim’s room and saw Deputy Katz sitting in a chair next to the victim’s bed, eating breakfast. The patient spoke to her nurse and didn’t notice Wilson standing at the door, but Brody did. Wilson nodded for Brody to come out into the hallway. Brody stood and was about to follow his friend out the door when he heard Memory speak.
“Brody, where are you going?” she asked.
The deputy turned and looked at her. “I’m just going into the hallway for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Memory waited for Brody to leave the room before turning her attention back to her nurse. “What do you think of Brody?”
“I know he’s been worried about you,” Harper answered.
Memory raised one eyebrow. “I think it’s his job to worry.”
“Maybe, but it wasn’t his job to stay here after he pulled you out of the river. He also volunteered to sit with you until you woke up again,” the nurse replied.
“Again?”
Harper didn’t think Memory remembered waking up earlier and stumbling into the hallway. “Yeah, you woke up earlier this morning, walked out of the room, and collapsed. Brody caught you before you hit the floor.”
“I did?”
“Yes, and Doctor Dawson was worried that you would hurt yourself if you did it again. He wanted to restrain you to the bed. Brody and I, along with the other nurses, didn’t like that idea and—”
“I don’t think I would have liked that either,” Memory blurted while rubbing her badly bruised wrists.
“Well, Brody volunteered to sit with you until you came around again,” Harper explained.
L
Manuel woke up in the passenger seat of the Escalade and stared out the window. He took a moment to look at the countless windmills spinning in the fields on both sides of the road. He tapped Jorge, who was driving, on the shoulder. “How much farther?” he asked.
“Eight hours.”
Manuel nodded and then turned around to look at Pablo, loudly snoring in the back seat. “Sounds like he’s calling pigs,” the sicario leader whispered in Spanish.
“Maybe the fat one he liked at the bar the other night,” Jorge whispered back.
Manuel laughed and then reached back and smacked Pablo’s leg. “Wake up! Your hog’s not coming!”
Pablo opened his eyes and glared at his boss. “What?”
“Where do you want to eat?”
“I don’t care.”
“Take the next exit, amigo. I need to piss and eat something.” Manuel looked at his cell phone after hearing the text message sound. “Jeff Doyle,” he whispered.
L
Detective Wilson waited in the hallway for Deputy Katz. He turned on the portable fingerprint scanner and checked to ensure it was working.
“It’s Memorial Day weekend; how long will it take to get a match after you send her prints off to AFIS? Everyone’s probably off,” Brody commented after stepping into the hallway.
“Not long if she’s in the system and people are working as they should be,” the detective answered.
“I thought everyone was in the system if they had a driver’s license. Memory’s old enough to have a license,” Brody replied.
“Memory?”
Brody took a deep breath and let it out. “Yeah, she didn’t like being called a Jane Doe.”
Wilson nodded. “Oh… Well, not every state employee puts them in correctly or makes sure they are readable.”
“I hope she’s in the system. Apparently, she has amnesia,” Brody said.
Wilson nodded. “Yeah, I know. I spoke to Doctor Dawson a few minutes ago, and he told me.”
“What happens if we can’t identify her?”
“I guess she’ll stay here until the hospital releases her. Then, we’ll take her someplace safe until we can identify her,” Wilson explained.
“Have you ever heard of something like this or worked any case like this one?” Brody asked of the man who had trained him when he had been hired.
Wilson shook his head. “I don’t think anyone has.”
Brody cleared his voice. “I didn’t think so… Are you ready to go in?”
“Yeah, let’s see if we can find out who Memory really is.”
Harper and Memory were chatting away about the nurse’s most comical situations she had experienced since becoming a nurse. When the lawmen entered the room, the women turned their attention to them.
“I’m Detective Wilson, and I’m working your case. I understand that you’ve lost your memory.”
Memory sheepishly grinned. “I guess. I mean, that’s what Doctor Dawson thinks anyway.”
Wilson moved toward the bed and held the fingerprint scanner up for Memory to clearly see it. “I’d like to take your fingerprint, if that’s okay.”
Harper knew by the detective’s behavior that he had been trained to work with victims of sexual assault.
“Yes, you can take them.”
Wilson moved closer, slowly reached his hand out, and waited for her to place her hand into his.
“How does it work?” she asked.
The detective took her index finger and placed it onto the scanner. “You keep still, and I’ll press this button on the side of the scanner. A light will slide across under the glass. It will collect an image of your fingerprint,” he explained and activated the scanner.
Detective Wilson was patient and gentle while scanning all ten of Memory’s fingers. When he had the last one, he stepped back, made sure he had an internet connection, and sent the fingerprints off to AFIS, the FBI’s fingerprint database.
“Now, what do we do?” Memory asked.
“We wait,” Wilson answered.
Brody sat in his chair next to the bed. “It sometimes takes a little while for it to come back.”
Memory gave Brody a friendly smile. “Well, it’s nice to have some company while I wait.”
Wilson heard the beep from the scanner. “Sounds like we got a match,” he proclaimed and looked at the scanner’s digital screen.
Memory took a deep breath and asked. “Well, who am I?”
The detective lifted his head from the scanner. “It didn’t come back. The scanner was beeping to let me know the batteries were low. I’ll run back to the station and see if I can get it to come back quicker there,” the detective answered and started for the door.
Brody saw the expression on his friend’s face. He knew John was lying. “I’ll walk you out.” Brody followed John down the hall toward the elevator and waited until they were out of earshot from Memory’s room. “What was that about?”
Detective Wilson surveyed the area around them before speaking. “I gotta see what happened to the scanner.”
“Why? I heard it come back with a match,” Brody declared.
“Yeah, it did.”
“Then who is she?” Brody asked.
“I don’t know, but she ain’t Libby Smith, born December 26, 1934.”
Brody stared at the ceiling, and John knew his old friend was adding the years in his head. “Eighty-seven.”
“Yeah, eighty-seven,” Wilson replied.
“Is the scanner broken?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going back to the station to manually enter them into the computer. I’ll come back before dinner and let you know what I find out,” Wilson said as he started for the elevator with Brody following.
“Dinner? Why so late?” Brody asked.
The detective gave his friend a concerned expression. “A nurse was found at the bottom of the stairwell about an hour ago. We don’t know anything about it yet. It could just be an accident. We’ve increased the number of deputies around the hospital. Still, until we know what happened, the sheriff doesn’t want the press to know about it.”
Brody turned and looked down the hall at the stairway door, then pointed at it. “That stairwell over there?”
“Yeah.”
Brody tilted his head upward and pointed at the small half-moon shaped glass in the ceiling where a surveillance camera was installed. “What do the cameras show?” Brody asked excitedly.
Wilson shook his head. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m going down there right now.”
“I’ll come with you.” Brody pressed the down button on the elevator.
“No, the sheriff wants you to go home, shower, and get some sleep.”
Brody gave his friend a brooding expression. “I think I’m more useful with you.”
Wilson knew Brody wouldn’t just sit on the bench while everything played out. He also knew the deputy hadn’t slept for more than a few hours or even showered since finding the woman. “Okay, you take the scanner, go back to the station, and enter her fingerprints manually. We’ll meet back here at five o’clock and share what we’ve found out.”
“That’s a good idea… but how about I come back here just as soon as I get a hit on the fingerprints,” Brody suggested.
Wilson looked at the floor and shook his head. “No, you’ll enter her fingerprints, go home, shower, sleep, and then meet me back here at five, or you can just go home.” John liked Brody, but if he wanted to be involved, it would be on John’s terms.
Brody didn’t like his friend’s ultimatum, but he knew it was his only option. “Okay, five o’clock it is.”
L
After leaving the hospital, Jeff drove back to the cabin where he had held the woman captive. The owner of the mountain retreat wouldn’t be using it for another month, which provided the killer with a place to hide from Porter until he could figure out what to do. The hired gunman took an unopened bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, sat in the dining room, poured a shot, and thought about his options. Jeff knew Porter was most likely making other arrangements to kill the woman—and him. He had to figure something out and fast.
I could offer to give the up-front money back and finish the job for free, he thought as he poured another shot. He threw it back and slammed the glass onto the bar. “Damn it!” he shouted, took his cell phone out, and found Bret’s number. Jeff knew what he needed to do, but it wasn’t something he wanted to do.
“It’s me. Are you available to help me move some furniture?”
“How heavy?” Bret asked.
“Very,” Jeff replied and waited for the man to answer. “Did you hear me?” Jeff asked after a moment.
“Yeah, I can help for twenty-five.”
Jeff wrinkled his forehead. He took the phone from his ear, stared out the window, and thought about it. Twenty-five thousand was all the up-front money he had been given, and it was half of the total for the job. It was also his only option. “Yeah, I’ll pay it,” he grudgingly agreed.
“Anything else?” Bret asked.
“We need to do it tonight, and you need to bring a suit,” Jeff replied.
“Text me where you want to meet,” Bret said and ended the call.
Jeff texted the cabin’s address to the man, slid the phone across the table, and poured his last shot until after the job was complete. The killer laid down on the couch. He thought out a plan on how to get into the hospital. It took about an hour to work out all the details in his head, but he did it. There was a way to get to the girl and kill her, but many people could die.
I’ll have to leave the country after this job is over. I’ll need some traveling money for that, Jeff thought and went back to the dining room table. The contract killer picked his cell phone back up and called the man he had been avoiding.
Porter was waiting for the senator to finish his morning visit with his wife when his burner phone rang in the Livingstons’ kitchen. He stared at the number before stepping into the living room. He peeked up the stairs and answered the call.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Porter asked angrily.
“Shut up!” Jeff ordered. “I need more money.”
Porter huffed. “Yeah, right!”
“No, you don’t understand. I know who you work for, and I know this has something to do with him.” Even though he wasn’t positive, Jeff insinuated the job was for the senator. The hired gun figured he had nothing to lose by throwing out the bluff.
“How much?” Porter finally asked.
Jeff wasn’t ready for his old friend to agree so quickly, so he knew the woman was a target worth a lot more than fifty grand. “Five hundred.”
“Fine, but you need to finish the job first.”
Jeff smiled. “I will tonight, but I want the money right after it’s done. I’m leaving the country soon after.”
“Yeah, I think it’s best that we never see each other again. I’ll have someone drive the money to you, but it’s not getting delivered until I know the woman’s dead.”
Jeff knew that would be part of the deal. He had already thought about how to handle it. “It’s a deal. I’ll text you where I want to meet your guy when I’m ready for the money.”
“All right,” Porter replied and ended the call just as the senator came down the stairs.
L
After telling Memory he’d be back later, Brody made it to the sheriff’s office and entered the fingerprints into the system just as Wilson had instructed him to. He drove home, showered, made a sandwich, and sat on his deck. The deputy enjoyed the snow-capped-mountain views to the west while also researching amnesia online.
Brody’s cabin in the mountains of Colorado had been a dream of his ever since he had first been stationed at Fort Carson in Colorado Springs at eighteen years old. After twenty years in the Army, Brody retired, attended police academy at a local community college, and was soon hired by the Teller County Sheriff’s Office. The lonely man bought a small fifth-wheel and parked it on the forty acres he had purchased ten years earlier. Brody’s custom three-bedroom cabin, with its hardwood floors and wood cabinets built from reclaimed wood, took him a year to build. Now, he was surrounded by large evergreens, rolling mountains, the sounds of nature, and an incredible view of the Sangre de Cristo Range.
Brody’s current situation in life was a dream come true—for a bachelor, anyway. The war on terrorism in the world’s far corners had kept the man busy over the past twenty years. Unfortunately, Brody had seen his fair share of failed relationships over those years. Now, the only thing he longed for was the company of a woman who had a similar interest in the outdoors like him. Brody allowed his mind to drift back to thoughts of Memory for a moment. She was beautiful, he thought as his head began to fall forward. The deputy shook his head, stretched, and stood. “I need some sleep,” he whispered.
After walking back into the cabin, Brody made his way to his bedroom, set his alarm, and laid himself on the bed. He dropped his head back, tucked his arms under his pillow, closed his eyes, and thought about the South Platte Floater. How did she end up in the river? Who tried to kill her and why? he asked himself. He fell asleep while a westerly breeze blew in through the window and across his body.