“Take it easy, honey.” Dad’s arms went around her, stroking her hair. “You’re safe now. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, her tears soaking into his shirt. “I want to go home. Please.”
“I don’t know about that, but we’ll call Dr. Mason and see what he says.”
An hour later Dr. Mason stood at her bedside listening to her arguments for going home.
“I’ll be more comfortable. My grandmother is there to help with cleaning and stuff so I won’t get too tired.”
“I agree.”
“And being home might help me remember faster and—” She paused when his words finally sank in. “Oh. So I can go home?”
Dr. Mason grinned. “As you said, you’ll be more comfortable there. But I still need to keep you under observation.” Looking at her father he added, “Bring her to the office the day after tomorrow. Sooner if there’s a problem or you notice any significant changes. I’ll have my nurse call you and let you know what time. Jennie”—he leveled a skeptical gaze at her—”are you sure you want to go?”
“Positive.”
“I’m concerned about the way these flashbacks are affecting you emotionally. Besides the head injury, you’ve apparently been through severe trauma. I’m—”
“I can handle it,” Jennie said quickly, fearing he’d change his mind.
He pursed his lips. “Possibly. The thing is, Jennie, I suspect you’re a very independent young lady.”
Dad nodded in agreement. “And stubborn.”
“Good. Jennie, your parents have told me about your propensity for solving crimes. And I can certainly understand if you feel the need to solve the mystery surrounding your injuries. But your job is to rest and relax. Don’t try so hard to remember. The part of your brain that seems to be responsible for memory has been seriously injured. The only thing I want you to work on is taking it easy and letting your body heal.”
“That means no detective work,” Dad insisted.
Jennie bit her lip. “I hardly think I’m in any condition to do anything like that.”
Dad gave her a why-don’t-I-believe-you look but didn’t comment.
Dr. Mason opened Jennie’s chart and jotted something down. “I don’t want Jennie to be alone. If her memory does return, it could be rather traumatic for her.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Dad assured him. “Part of Jennie’s fear and mine is that whoever abducted and beat her may come back to finish the job. I’ll arrange to have someone with her at all times.”
“Okay, then.” Dr. Mason flashed her a smile. “You can leave as soon as you’re ready. I’m going to give you a prescription for those headaches.” He went on to restate the discharge instructions as he wrote them down.
As he talked and wrote, Jennie could feel the anxiety rise from the pit of her stomach and move into her neck and shoulders. A lump settled in her throat. Was she doing the right thing? Of course you are. But somehow Jennie wasn’t so sure.
Within thirty minutes Dad picked her up in front of the hospital. Once they reached the freeway Jennie leaned back against the seat and tried to relax. It’s going to be all right, she told herself for the umpteenth time.
Jennie stared out the window of her parents’ Oldsmobile. Her anxiety gradually subsided. In its place came a strong sense of determination. True, she wanted to go home for all the reasons she’d told her father and Dr. Mason. But she had another reason as well. Jennie wanted to find out all she could about the bank robbers. Being in the hospital had made her feel vulnerable. Any one of the dozens of people she came in contact with each day could be a killer. The ER staff, the doctors, the IV nurses … even the housekeepers.
Two different housekeepers had been in that day. One, a Russian woman named Lana, had been friendly and cheerful. She could hardly speak English and had rattled on about how her sister would be coming from Russia to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with her. She kept slipping from broken English into Russian, and Jennie kept having to remind her that she didn’t understand.
She’d felt comfortable with Lana. The other housekeeper, however, had made her uneasy. He hadn’t spoken, and she’d been unable to read his name tag. He’d washed the floor, and several times Jennie had looked up from the book she’d been reading and caught him watching her. He never made eye contact. There was something about him …
There’s something weird about almost everyone you see, she reminded herself. He was probably just shy. As she thought about it, he did seem kind of cute. Maybe he’d just been flirting with her. Right. With her black eyes and bruises she looked about as attractive as a toad. Of course, he might have just been curious.
Jennie sighed. She was tired of being on edge, tired of suspecting nearly everyone she saw. Somehow she had to remember her abductors so the police could catch them and put them behind bars. And despite what Dr. Mason and her father had told her, Jennie planned to help.
She hoped the information she gleaned from the newspapers and from talking to people would help her remember. Everyone had talked about her detecting skills. Though she wasn’t completely certain what being a sleuth involved, maybe it was about time she started acting like one.
One of the first things she planned to do was drive into the mountains and up to the Grahams’ cabin. She’d had several flashbacks there. Jennie gulped to dispel another wave of fear. Maybe she’d even sit in the closet for a while. If being there didn’t bring back her memory, nothing would. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Dr. Mason had said her brain would need time to heal. Still, driving up to the cabin wouldn’t hurt.
Jennie shifted in her seat. “Dad, what happened to my car? Rocky said the deputies found it.”
“It’s been impounded.” He glanced at her and smiled. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it back eventually. I’m not sure whether or not your insurance will cover bullet holes. Your mom’s checking on it. Don’t worry,” he added before Jennie could protest. “We’ll have it repaired one way or another. It’ll need a new paint job as well, since the sides are all scratched up.”
“So when can I have it back?”
“Soon enough. You won’t be driving for a while anyway.”
Jennie rubbed her forehead. “I know the doctor said I should rest, but he didn’t say I couldn’t go for a drive.”
Dad shook his head. “Let’s not split hairs, okay?”
“I want to go back to the cabin.”
“I know. And I’ll take you.”
“Today?”
“Jennie, it’s late.”
“Tomorrow, then.”
“Might be too soon.”
“Dr. Mason said I should go back to where it happened.”
“Eventually, but not yet.”
Jennie pulled her loosened hair back and redid her ponytail. “I need to go, Dad. I can’t explain it, but I just have to.”
He gave her an exasperated look. “I’ll talk to your mother, and we’ll see what Dr. Mason says. Though I’m not sure when we can make the trip.”
“Lisa can drive me. Or one of my … my friends.”
“No.” He gave her a sharp look. “Jennie, you are not to go up there alone or with one of your friends.”
“Do you think the bank robbers are still around there?”
“I doubt it. The sheriff’s department has been keeping a close eye on the area.”
“So it’s safe.”
“Relatively, but there’s always a chance.”
“Maybe Mom could—”
“Absolutely not. She’s in no condition to drive that far. She’s supposed to be resting.”
His concerned look drove thoughts of the mountain cabin from her mind. “Is something wrong with her? I mean, I know she’s pregnant.”
“There are some complications.” Dad’s jaw tightened. “The doctor is very concerned. With all the activity over the last few days …”
“You mean staying at the hospital with me?”
“Partly. I tried to get her to stay home more, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Said she’d be worse off at home worrying than sitting with you. She’s been trying to do too much around the house.” He went on to explain Mom’s condition. “I don’t want you to worry. You need to concentrate on getting well.”
“But who’s going to help with cleaning and making meals and taking care of Nick?”
“Gram has been coming in every day, and Kate’s helping when she can.” Glancing back to check for traffic, he moved into the right lane to take the next exit. “We’re almost home. Do you recognize anything?”
Jennie looked around for familiar landmarks. She may as well have been traveling in a foreign country. “No.”
“Well, maybe being home will help.”
“I hope so.”
Minutes later they pulled into the driveway. Jennie eased herself out of the car, closed the door, and leaned on it for support.
“Hang on a sec, princess, I’ll give you a hand.”
“Jennie, Jennie!” Nick bounced down the stairs and cannonballed toward them. “You’re home.”
“Whoa.” Dad raced around the car and swooped Nick up before he could collide with Jennie. “Take it easy, son. Your sister’s not all that steady on her feet yet.”
That was an understatement. At the hospital they’d taken her to the car in a wheelchair. Now she faced the prospect of walking into the house on legs that suddenly felt like rubber. After hugging her insistent brother, Jennie looked up at the two-story Victorian. “Neat house,” she said.
“Glad you like it.” Dad hugged her to him. “Welcome home, princess.” He set Nick down. “How about opening the door for us, Nick?”
“Sure.” He ran ahead. “You gonna carry Jennie like you did me when I was sick?”
Dad chuckled. “Only if she wants me to.”
“I can make it. I just need to hold on to your arm.” She got as far as the steps when her knees buckled.
“Up you go.” Ignoring her protests, Dad lifted her into his arms and carried her the rest of the way in. Once inside, he strode across the tiled entry and deposited her on the living room couch.
Mom maneuvered her body out of the recliner she’d been resting in and gave Jennie a hug. “I’m so glad you’re home. We’ve missed you so much.”
Like a flock of seagulls hoping for a handout, Jennie’s family gathered around her. Nick dropped to the floor near her head with a book. “Mama said I could read to you.”
“You can, honey.” Mom brushed Jennie’s hair back and kissed her forehead. “But at least let her get out of her jacket.”
Dad eased the jacket off her shoulders. “Where are Mom and J.B.?”
“Shopping. When Gram heard our girl was coming home she insisted on making Jennie’s favorite dinner.”
“What’s my favorite dinner?”
Mom grinned. “We’ll let it be a surprise.”
Coming home both excited and tired Jennie. She leaned her head against the couch and felt herself drifting off.
“Looks like you could use a nap,” Mom said. “Honey, why don’t you take her upstairs? Her bed will be much more comfortable.”
Jennie was so tired she didn’t protest and let him carry her up the stairs.
Dad set her down on the bed and told her to sleep tight.
“I will,” she said to the closing door. And she would—soon. Seeing her room perked her up. She looked around, hopeful at first, then disappointed when nothing jarred her memory. “Don’t give up,” she murmured. She needed to be patient. “Relax,” Dr. Mason had said. “Don’t try so hard.”
Jennie leaned back against her pillows and tried following her doctor’s orders. She liked her room. It had a peaceful quality about it. In keeping with the Victorian style of the house, the bed had a white metal frame and an ivory comforter. Not a lot of frills and lace, but just enough. The computer perched on a student desk somehow seemed out of place. Later, when she felt more alert, she’d turn it on and delve into its secrets.
She dosed her eyes and several minutes later opened them again. As tired as she felt, she couldn’t stop thinking and wondering. A person’s room told a lot about their personality. She wanted to know more about herself. Find herself.
One thing was clear—Jennie liked stuffed animals. There had to be at least a dozen scattered around the room. Most of them sat on the seat tucked in a large window.
Jennie thought about getting up and going back downstairs, but she wasn’t certain she could face her family again so soon. Instead, she went to her closet and stood in front of the full-length mirror. She was thin. And pale. Her dark blue eyes had a haunted look. Her face was still bruised, looking like someone had painted it in a wash of purple, brown, and yellow. She pushed her hair away from her face and ran her fingers through it. In pictures she’d seen of herself, she’d often worn it in a ponytail or a braid. Picking up a brush, she raked through the tangles. Several minutes later she secured the braid with a hair band.
Maybe if she put on some makeup. Jennie rooted around in the dresser drawers, then made her way to the bathroom. There wasn’t much—an old bottle of foundation and a tube of mascara. Guess you don’t wear much of it. Jennie dabbed on some foundation, thinking to hide some of the bruising, then washed it off again. It hurt too much to rub her face, especially the bruise along her jaw.
How could she not remember someone hurting her like that? How can you not remember yourself or your family? Jennie squeezed her eyes shut as another flashback hit. This time she saw herself lying on the ground. Dead. In an instant it was gone, leaving her shaken to the core.
Why would I think I was dead? I didn’t die, did I, Lord? She leaned over, resting her head in her hands, elbows on the counter. Is this some kind of crazy dream? Am I going to wake up and realize that none of this has happened?
Jennie raised her head. She didn’t understand the flashback. She wasn’t dead. Whatever had happened was real. I’m here and I’m alive, and my name is Jennie McGrady. The stranger in the mirror just looked at her.
When Jennie awoke, the digital clock on the bedside stand read 6:30 p.m. After her explorations, Jennie had been more than ready for her nap. She’d fallen asleep immediately and been out for over an hour.
Delicious smells from the kitchen made her stomach growl. She should go downstairs, but she wasn’t certain she wanted to just yet. In the short time she’d been there, her room had become a safe haven. A streetlight spread its golden glow across the front yard and into her bedroom window. It drew Jennie like a beacon. She stroked the cushions on the window seat and moved aside a menagerie of stuffed animals.
Holding a cuddly brown teddy bear, she sat on the seat and looked out into the yard and down the street. She’d lived here all her life, her parents had said. And Jennie didn’t doubt it. Her room, the view, the window seat, all had a comfortable, almost familiar feel to them. Of course, it could just be that she’d spent the last two hours there.
Jennie squeezed the soft, squishy bear against her chest. This was her space, her home, her family. She belonged here, yet part of her felt like an intruder.
Will I ever get my memory back?
Jennie leaned her head against a pillow. She liked the neighborhood. It was old and established. Her gaze drifted from one house to another, eventually landing on a car that slowed down and stopped in front of a neighbor’s house just beyond the reaches of the streetlight. The driver cut the lights, but no one got out. For several minutes she watched and waited.
Jennie saw a flash of orange as the occupant pulled out a cigarette lighter and lit a cigarette. Her heart shifted into high gear. A chill shuddered through her. For an instant the light illuminated a fraction of the driver’s face, giving it a ghoulish appearance. Then it was gone. Jennie stared at the smoke drifting out of the car and the hand sticking out of the window holding a cigarette.
Panic shrieked through her. They’ve come back. They know where you live!