Sarah instinctively backed up until her legs hit the bed and there was nowhere else to go. Jake moved forward until he was inches away from her. He towered over her by at least half a foot. He was too big, too strong, and too male. She felt an overwhelming sense of fear, but she couldn’t let him see that she was afraid.
They were in a hospital, she reminded herself. There were doctors and nurses out in the hall. He couldn’t hurt her here.
“Why don’t you tell me where you’re going?” he said.
“To find my daughter.” She refused to be intimidated by this man. At the moment she didn’t know if what he’d said about her was true or false. Until she did know, she was going to follow her instincts. Right now her instincts told her not to show any weakness.
“I thought you didn’t know where Caitlyn was."
“I don’t know where she is, but I can look. I can’t just lie here and do nothing."
“Or maybe you’re going to get her, so you can take off again,” he suggested.
If she knew where her daughter was, maybe she would do that, because something was off between her and this man. She couldn’t imagine behaving the way he’d described -- unless she’d been desperate to escape. However, she couldn’t help thinking that to remove all evidence of her existence before she left seemed more premeditated than desperate, more calculating than fearful. But she’d been afraid in her dream, and despite the bravado she was putting on now, she felt a sense of fear. There was danger somewhere -- she just didn’t know where.
“Nothing to say?” Jake prodded. He took another step closer to her. His breath whispered against her cheek, drawing goose bumps across her arms. She could feel the power in his body standing so near hers, and the air sparked with tension between them.
She cleared her throat and forced herself to look at him. “I told you I just want to find my daughter."
Jake didn’t reply for a long, tense moment, his gaze deep and hard, his eyes searching hers for the truth. She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t give in to the temptation. He would only think she was trying to hide something.
Finally he gave a frustrated shake of his head. “I don’t know if you’re lying or not. I used to believe I was good at reading people, but you... you proved me wrong. I never suspected that you had so many secrets. I was completely taken in, fooled in every possible way."
She was surprised he would admit to such a thing. He seemed like a proud, confident, arrogant man. Or was he playing his own game, trying to make himself look like a victim?
“I imagined seeing you a million times in the last seven months,” he continued. “I thought about what I would say to you -- what you would say to me. I expected that you’d have a big story to tell me, some logical explanation for your departure. I never anticipated a sudden case of amnesia. It’s a good defense. You don’t have to answer any questions, because you don’t remember."
The cutting anger in his voice drew her chin up. She couldn’t defend her actions before she’d woken up in the hospital, but she could stand up for her behavior in the past twelve hours. “I’m not faking the memory loss. I don’t recall anything before I woke up in this bed. You’re no more familiar to me than the deputy who was just here. I don’t know you. I don’t remember anything about our life together. You could be telling me a boatload of lies. I don’t trust you any more than you trust me."
Jake picked up the photo of the two of them that still rested on the bed. “You need proof that we were together. Here it is."
“That woman’s hair is lighter."
“You had blond hair when I knew you.” His eyes narrowed. “Come on, Sarah; you can’t deny this woman is you."
She couldn’t deny it. Despite the different hair color, and the cuts and bruises she now wore, the face was the same one she’d seen in the mirror. “Even if it is me, I don’t remember having the picture taken. I don’t remember being with you at all."
He shook his head in anger and frustration. “Fine, you don’t remember. So I’ll tell you the way it was. We had an intense, passionate relationship. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We were together for two years, and I thought I knew you inside and out. Then I came home one day to an apartment I didn’t recognize, a home stripped bare of everything and everyone. At first I thought something terrible must have happened, a stranger had come into our home and hurt you or kidnapped you and Caitlyn. But that didn’t jive with the way you’d left the house so neat and tidy and utterly empty. I haunted the police station for weeks. I hung up posters all over the city. I pleaded on television for someone to come forward and tell me where you were."
“I don’t know what to say.” She felt damnation in each horrible word he uttered.
“Then just listen. Our friends, my coworkers, even one of the cops, suggested you might have had postpartum depression. No one came right out and said it, but I knew they were wondering if you’d harmed yourself and Caitlyn, too. But I kept telling them that you’d never hurt our child. You couldn’t do such a thing."
“I don’t believe that I did,” she said quickly. “Officer Manning told me he found fresh milk in a bottle in the backseat of my car. Caitlyn has to be okay. She’s just somewhere I can’t remember."
“I hope to God that’s true, Sarah."
“It has to be true,” she said, hearing desperation in her own voice.
“Then maybe you left me for another reason. I don’t care anymore what that reason was. What you did to me was unforgivable. And seeing you now alive and well only makes me remember how many hours I wasted worrying about you. The days kept passing, and I couldn’t get any answers. The police gave up. No evidence of a crime, just a runaway girlfriend -- that’s what they called you. So I hired private investigators, one after another. They all came up empty. They told me to accept the fact that you’d left of your own volition, and you’d probably had help, because there was no trail whatsoever. Even my friends encouraged me to move on, forget the last two years of my life, as if I could do that. We’d made a family, you, me, Caitlyn. And you ripped it apart. You destroyed everything."
If Jake was faking the raw, bitter pain in his voice, the agony in his eyes, he was an incredible actor. But if he was telling the truth, it sounded like she was a terrible person, cold and so cruel. Sarah didn’t know which scenario she preferred.
“I don’t understand,” she said helplessly.
“That makes two of us,” he continued. “Because when I went looking for you, I discovered that everything you’d told me about your past was a lie. I ran down your supposed relatives on the East Coast. You said your parents died when you were young, and that you’d gone to live with a grandmother in Boston, but that person didn’t exist. You told me you went to Boston College, but they never heard of you. You came into my life out of nowhere, and you vanished exactly the same way. I almost started to think I’d imagined you, made you up. I thought I was going crazy,” he said with a wave of his hand.
“You’re saying that I lied to you from the beginning?” she asked in surprise.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying."
She put a hand to her temple as her headache deepened in intensity. Her senses began to spin, and her legs felt so weak she sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Jake’s face began to blur, and she twisted her fingers in the blanket and sheet so she wouldn’t fall over.
“Are you all right?” Jake put his hand on her shoulder to steady her, and then yanked it away, as if he couldn’t bear to touch her. His forehead drew into tight lines as he frowned. “Or is this another play in your game? Get me to feel sorry for you? Get me to go find the nurse or the doctor so you can leave?"
“I... I just need to catch my breath."
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “You’re white as a ghost. You look like you’re going to pass out. This had better not be an act, Sarah. I can’t take any more lies from you."
“It’s not an act,” she murmured, knowing that she couldn’t faint. She had to stay awake so she could deal with Jake, not that it wouldn’t be appealing to escape the fury in his eyes -- if only for a few minutes. His anger and accusations were burning a hole right through her heart.
But some inner voice warned her not to assume that everything he said was the truth. She had to trust her own instincts. Words were just words, and Jake could have an agenda for wanting her to believe that she was a horrible person. He could be the one who was lying.
Jake pushed the call button for the nurse. “Let’s get an objective opinion."
“I’m okay,” she said. “It’s a lot of information to take in all at once."
“Or you’re giving yourself a minute to think up another story."
Before she could reply, the nurse entered the room, frowning when she saw Sarah dressed in her street clothes. “Now, where do you think you’re going?” Rosie asked.
“To find my daughter,” she said, even though she couldn’t summon up the strength to get back on her feet.
“You need to rest,” the nurse said. “Come on, now; lie down."
“I don’t want to lie down,” Sarah protested, but knew she was too weak to win this battle. Seeing the resolve in the nurse’s face, she lay back on the pillows, stretching her legs out in front of her.
“That’s better.” The nurse untied Sarah’s shoes and pulled them off. “Your body has been through a lot. You need to give yourself time to recuperate. Why don’t I get you a sleeping pill?"
“No,” she said immediately, hating the idea of losing any more control over her life. “I don’t need a pill."
“Well, if you find the pain gets worse and you can’t sleep, call me.” The nurse glanced over at Jake. “Maybe you should let her get some rest."
Jake frowned but reluctantly nodded. “All right, but I want to talk to her doctor."
“I’ll let Dr. Carmichael know you wish to speak to him,” the nurse replied. She moved over to the window and drew the curtains, then flipped off the overhead light as she left, leaving the room in shadows, only a small stream of light coming from the part in the curtains.
Jake moved slowly toward the door. He paused, giving Sarah a long, speculative look. “I’ll be right outside. Don’t even think of leaving here without me."
* * *
Alone in the dark room, Sarah felt another wave of fear wash over her. Why couldn’t she remember anything about her life? She could feel the love for her child deep in her soul, but the only image she had of Caitlyn was the child in the photograph. And Jake -- she didn’t remember him at all. Why wouldn’t she recall a man with whom she’d been intimate, the father of her child? At the very least, why couldn’t she feel the same love for Jake that she felt for Caitlyn? Had she loved him? Or was that just what he wanted her to believe?
Picking up the photograph of the two of them together at the carnival, she saw again the smile on her lips, the sparkle in her eyes. The emotion didn’t appear forced or fake. Jake looked happy, too. There was certainly no love in his eyes now. He hated her.
Jake claimed that she’d lied about everything in her past. If she’d done that, she must have had something to hide. There must have been a logical explanation for why she’d left him and taken their child, and more reasons for why she’d been driving a car that didn’t belong to her in an area of California in which she didn’t appear to live. But what were those reasons?
It was no wonder everyone looked at her with suspicion. She was suspicious of herself. She might not have a memory, but she did have a brain, and adding up all the bits and pieces she’d learned about herself revealed a very disturbing picture. Unless she was a raving lunatic, there had to be someone else in that picture, someone who had given her a reason to do what she’d done. Was it Jake?
Although she’d been eager to get rid of him, now she couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing. She didn’t like the idea of him talking to the police without her, or even to her doctor. Shifting restlessly on the bed, she finally sat up and made another attempt to stand. She took it slowly, fighting through the dizziness as she got to her feet. Once she felt steady, she walked across the room to the door and opened it just wide enough to take a look around.
Her room was at the far end of the hall. Across from her was a stairwell. At the other end of the hall was the nurses’ station, where several people in blue scrubs could be seen milling around. There were other random people in the hallway, but the most important figure was Jake, standing a few yards away with his back to her. He was talking on his cell phone.
She opened the door wider, trying to catch his conversation.
“I found her,” Jake said. “Yeah, she colored her hair, but she couldn’t get rid of those curls -- those damn curls. There’s no mistake.” He paused for a moment. “The police have been searching for Caitlyn in the canyon where the accident occurred. What I need you to do is go there and check it out for me.” He listened to the reply and then said, “She claims she doesn’t remember anything. I’m going to check with Sarah’s doctor. I’ll get back to you when I know what I’m going to do about her."
Sarah shut the door, her pulse racing. Whom had Jake been talking to? And more important, what was he planning to do about her?
* * *
Jake sat down in a chair in the hospital corridor and leaned his head against the wall. The last time he’d been in a hospital was when Caitlyn was born -- one of the happiest days of his life. That moment seemed like a lifetime ago.
Closing his eyes, he took a long, deep breath. He’d found Sarah, and the moment he’d anticipated for seven long months had not been at all what he’d expected. He’d prepared himself for a showdown, a battle for Caitlyn. He’d never once considered that he would find Sarah and she wouldn’t be with Caitlyn. Where on earth had Sarah hidden their daughter?
He wanted to shake the answers out of her. He’d never felt such violence or anger toward a woman. Sarah had ruined him. And it appeared that she’d ruined herself too. She’d lost at least ten or fifteen pounds. She’d never been heavy, but now she was so thin she looked fragile, breakable. Her beautiful blond hair was a lifeless brown, her eyes filled with shadows, her demeanor nervous and wary.
Where was the woman he’d fallen in love with?
She was nowhere. She didn’t exist, he reminded himself. The woman he’d lived with was a liar and a thief. He couldn’t forget that. He couldn’t let her get under his skin again. He had one goal now, and that was to find Caitlyn. Sarah was only going to be a means to that end, nothing more. He would stay with her until he had his daughter. He couldn’t take the chance that she would run again.
Still, it took all the strength he had not to walk out of the hospital and join in the search for his child. But the police were doing their job, and Dylan was on his way to the accident scene. It was smarter for him to stay here and keep the pressure on Sarah.
So far Sarah had played the amnesia card exactly right. Her eyes had never once revealed any spark of recognition for him. Was she that good an actress? Could she really hide the truth so completely? Or was she truly without any memory whatsoever? It seemed impossible to believe that she could forget everything that had happened between them. She was probably faking it.
Opening his eyes, he glanced around the corridor and saw a young woman watching him. She had dark hair and eyes, and there was a pinched look about her white face, worry in her expression. When she realized she’d been caught staring, she gave him a nervous smile. “It’s hard to wait,” she said. “I hate hospitals. They’re so depressing."
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he muttered shortly. He didn’t feel like making conversation with a stranger. Fortunately they were interrupted. Jake got to his feet as a tall, gray-haired man paused in front of him.
“Mr. Sanders?” he queried.
“Yes, are you Sarah’s doctor?"
“I believe so, if we’re speaking about the woman in 407 with amnesia resulting from a car accident."
“Yes. Her name is Sarah Tucker. I’d like to find out more about her condition. What can you tell me?"
Dr. Carmichael stepped aside as someone pushed a food cart down the hallway. He waved Jake into a nearby waiting room. “Why don’t we speak in private?"
Jake cast a quick look down the hall. Sarah’s door was closed. While he didn’t trust her to stay put, he knew she was too weak to go far. Even if she ran, he would find her.
* * *
"I want the girl,” the man said.
Sarah’s heart stopped as she saw the man pull a gun out of his jacket pocket and take aim. His hand was calm; not a single tremor shook his fingers. She gazed at his wrist, mesmerized by the tattoo of a tiger. She’d seen that tattoo before. Where?
The gun suddenly exploded, and a rocketing blast reverberated through her body, ringing her ears, almost knocking her off her feet. She put a hand over her mouth, muffling her scream of shock and terror.
She couldn’t believe what had happened. He’d done it. He’d actually pulled the trigger. Bright red blood streamed across the tile floor. God, how could anyone bleed so much and stay alive?
She had to get help. She had to say something, but she couldn’t get any air into her lungs.
The scene in front of her faded away, turning to blackness. She strained to see some light, but she was completely blind.
Someone was holding her down, covering her mouth and nose. She was going to be the next person to die. But he wasn’t shooting her; he was suffocating her, she realized. In seconds it would be over.
Desperation broke through her paralysis. She pushed against the weight pressing on her, using her hands to swing at anything she could reach. Her fist connected with skin, bone. She heard a grunt, a curse, but the voice... it wasn’t the same voice. Who was it?
Sarah’s eyes flew open. A man stood over her, wearing blue scrubs and a mask over his mouth and nose. He had a pillow in his hand, the same pillow that had just been covering her face.
He was coming back after her. He was going to try again.