of an ex-fiancée?”
“Where did you hear that?”
Glancing at Ryder’s still face, he said, “I’ve talked to some of his friends.”
“We made up. I guess his friends don’t know about it.”
“I guess not. Well, Miss Enderling, are you aware that your boyfriend had been drinking when he took off with his brother on the night of the…accident?”
There was a telling pause before the word “accident” that sent a chill through Amelia. She bit her lip and kept silent.
“It’s common knowledge,” he added.
She squared her shoulders. Her initial mistrust of him was becoming more and more pronounced. She finally said, “If you insist on holding a conversation despite what I’ve told you, maybe we should go out in the hall.”
“Why?” he said, a smug smile lifting one corner of his mouth. “He’s in a coma, right? He can’t hear us.”
“How do you know what he can or can’t hear?” she snapped. “Just because he’s in a coma doesn’t mean he’s not aware of his environment. Numerous studies have proved—”
Hill interrupted. “It’s not you I want to talk to, it’s him.”
She remained silent.
“I’ll check back in a couple of days,” he said at last, delivering the message like a warning.
Amelia sank down on the chair as the door closed behind Detective Hill, and she looked at Ryder’s face, so recently familiar again.
What would happen to him when he discovered he was responsible for his brother’s death and that the police wanted to talk with him about it? The guilt alone would be devastating, for she earnestly believed that beneath Ryder’s selfishness was a decent core struggling to get out. And if he was convicted, there would go his life as he knew it.
It wasn’t her problem. He would neither expect or desire her involvement, but in his current vulnerable state, it was hard to feel callous. And, too, there was Nina and Jack to consider—they’d lost Rob because Ryder had been irresponsible and reckless. What would happen if they now lost Ryder to the legal system?
Rob. His death conjured so many emotions. Guilt that she’d told Ryder the big news about the baby when he had access to both liquor and a car. Anger that Ryder had survived a crash he was responsible for. More guilt for the anger because Ryder had not escaped without injury himself. And added to the mix, sadness that Rob, or at least what little she had known of him, would never be the uncle her baby needed, that she would never open the door and find him standing there with a stuffed bear in his arms.
A noise at the door cut short her painful musings. She turned, expecting another go-round with Hill. Instead, she found herself facing Jack and Nina Hogan.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” she said with relief.
Nina crossed the room quickly, pausing to pat Amelia on the shoulder. “How’s our little mother feeling?” she asked, the thrill of Amelia’s pregnancy still lighting her eyes.
“Just fine.” On the spur of the moment, Amelia decided to delay mentioning the police. Instead, she would share the good news.
Watching their faces closely, she said, “He woke up.”
Both of them stared at her as though she’d just delivered a statement in Swahili. “Ryder opened his eyes,” she elaborated. “He spoke to me!”
Nina clasped her hands together and squealed.
“What did he say?” Jack demanded.
“Not much. He seemed…confused.” At their furrowed expressions, she added, “He was only awake for a minute or two.”
“Do the doctors know?”
“I haven’t had a chance to tell anyone but you two.”
Jack nodded briskly and went back out into the hall, presumably to alert the medical staff. Nina crossed to Ryder’s other side and smoothed a lock of dark hair back from his forehead before kissing him.
Amelia looked down at her hands. It was time to leave. She had rehearsed the way she would explain her departure, but now that the time had come, her mouth felt dry and the words were gone.
Jack burst back into the room, Dr. Solomon in tow. She was a middle-aged woman with kinky gray hair and kind eyes. A pair of glasses bobbed on a chain against her ample chest. Amelia had met her on numerous occasions and liked her.
“He was conscious?” the doctor asked as she took Amelia’s place by the head of the bed.
“Yes. I gave him a sip of water.”
Dr. Solomon shined a small flashlight into Ryder’s eyes and called his name softly. Amelia was startled to see Ryder’s lids flutter open.
The doctor looked up at Jack and Nina and smiled. Then she looked back at Ryder who was gazing at her with a puzzled expression on his face. “How are you feeling, Ryder?”
He licked his lips. “My head aches,” he murmured at last.
“Understandable. You have a concussion. You’re doing fine,” she said, adding as she stepped out of the way, “there are some people here who want to see you, young man.”
Nina, all smiles, said, “Hello, darling.”
Ryder’s baffled expression deepened. Slowly, he looked from his mother to his father, who stood beaming at the end of the bed, and then to Amelia. When he saw her, he said, “You…”
Amelia heard it as an accusation. She took a step back, toward the door. She’d been expecting this, but now that it was upon her, she felt awkward and embarrassed.
He smiled at her. It was the smile she had loved first, the smile that lit his brown eyes and warmed the room. It also stopped her in her tracks. He said, “You, I know.”
“Of course—”
“You were here earlier.”
“Yes.”
He nodded, wincing slightly as though the motion caused him discomfort. His gaze traveled back to Nina and then to Jack. “I don’t know you people,” he said.
Jack chuckled. “That’s my boy, always with the jokes.”
But Nina leaned closer and stared right into her son’s eyes. Then she looked over her shoulder at her husband and said, “I don’t think Ryder is making a joke.”
The doctor said, “These are your parents. Are you saying you don’t know them?”
Licking his lips again, Ryder said, “The girl was here earlier when I woke up, but I’ve never seen any of the rest of you before in my life.”
Nina’s hands flew to cover her mouth and she gasped. The doctor said, “Do you know who you are?”
He stared hard at her. Amelia could see him trying to search his mind for answers. He finally said, “You keep calling me Ryder. I’m afraid the name doesn’t ring a bell.”
Jack’s face was as bleached as the sheets. He finally said, “You don’t know who I am, son?”
Ryder looked contrite as he murmured, “No, I’m sorry, I don’t.” He struggled to sit up a little in the bed. The doctor helped him with pillows.
“Do you remember the car accident that sent you here in the first place?” she asked gently.
Again he seemed to search his memory bank which apparently he found empty. Narrowing his eyes, his fists clenched, he finally said, “Damn it, doctor, I don’t remember a thing. Not a thing.”
“Calm down,” she cautioned. “It’s not unusual for a head injury to cause temporary amnesia.”