Journey Back to Christmas. Leigh Duncan

history lessons correctly, Malmedy was the site of the worst POW massacre… of World War II. A single glance at Dr. Lipscomb put any doubt of the matter to rest. And no wonder, considering the Medal of Honor on display in her office. Her grandfather had fought and died in the Battle of the Bulge.

      The doctor smoothed one hand down the front of her lab coat. “Mrs. Morse,” she said before the chief had a chance to ask his next question, “what’s today’s date?”

      “December 16th.” The petite blonde hesitated. “No. The 17th. December 17th,” she said, growing more sure of herself.

      “And where are we?” the doctor asked as if she wasn’t trying to poke holes in Hanna’s story. “What city?”

      Hanna’s pert features brightened. She knew the answer to this one. “Why, in Central Falls, of course.”

      “And the name of the president?”

      Certainty glowed in Hanna’s eyes. “Harry S. Truman.”

      Though Jake’s mouth wanted to drop open, he kept it closed. Dr. Lipscomb handed the conversation back to his boss with a single nod.

      “Hmm.” Chief Munson tapped his foot against the hardwood floor. “Hanna, Dr. Lipscomb… if you don’t mind staying right where you are, I’d like to confer with my officers for a moment.” Without waiting for a response, the chief headed for the nearest exit, Sarah right on his heels. Bringing up the rear, Jake aimed a sympathetic glance at the woman who looked pretty normal despite her bizarre answers to Dr. Lipscomb’s questions.

      “Okay,” Chief Munson began once the door snapped shut behind them. “What are we dealing with?”

      “Amnesia?” Sarah ventured.

      “Can’t be. She knows her name. City. Date,” the chief replied, ticking items off a list. “Though, I’ll admit, she’s confused about the year.”

      “Yeah, and there was no storm last night.” Sarah rotated her cap in her hands. “Maybe she’s pulling a scam?”

      “That’s possible,” the chief agreed. “Her address doesn’t check out. Her car doesn’t check out.”

      “Whatever a Hudson is,” Sarah added. “She has no ID.”

      Jake’s eyes narrowed. He got where the chief was coming from. Protecting the citizens of Central Falls from harm had to be their boss’s primary mission. As for Sarah, she was the newest officer on the force and looking for her first big case to crack. That didn’t mean either of them were on the right track. Stepping in before an innocent woman got labeled, he provided a simple reminder. “She says she dropped her purse back in the shed.”

      “That’s a likely story.” One that, by the expression on her face, Sarah wasn’t buying.

      The chief drew in a deep breath. “We’re going to have to take her in.”

      “On what charge?” Jake demanded. It didn’t seem fair for the woman to end up on the wrong side of the deal just because she had a few problems with her memory.

      “For now, we’ll just get more information from her,” the chief said, though his brow furrowed at the suggestion.

      “It’s either that or a 1701,” Sarah said, citing the code for involuntary commitment.

      “Wait. Hold on, Chief. This all seems a little bit harsh.” An odd sensation stirred in Jake’s chest. If there’d ever been someone who needed his help, Hanna was it.

      Chief Munson held out empty hands as if he wished someone would fill them with a different solution. “It’s procedure, Jake. Nothing else.”

      Jake thought fast. Some sixth sense told him that Hanna would never find herself again if they locked her behind bars or, worse, put her in a psych ward. Though he wasn’t buying her story about a husband who died in World War II, he was pretty sure she’d suffered some kind of mental trauma. She needed a place to sit for a while and collect her thoughts more than she needed anything else. Some place where no one bombarded her with questions or forced her to give answers that didn’t make any sense. And he knew just such a place.

      He cleared his throat. “Let me take her back to the farm, okay? Just for a day or two. Just let her calm down. Let her feel safe.”

      A rare instance of indecision flickered in the chief’s dark eyes. “I don’t know,” he responded while he tugged at his gloves. “It’s against protocol, and I’m not sure she isn’t—”

      Afraid the next words out of his boss’s mouth would condemn Hanna to spending the holidays behind bars, Jake forced himself to ignore the accusations in Sarah’s wide-eyed stare. Speaking with far more assurance than he felt, he pleaded Hanna’s case. “We haven’t processed her yet. Just… let me observe her. If she’s delusional, I’ll take her to the hospital. If I sense she’s a fraud, I’ll bring her back to the station.”

      Chief Munson shook his head. “If she’s a con artist, she’s going to play you at every turn,” he warned.

      “C’mon. It’s almost Christmas.” The thought of anyone needlessly spending the holidays in jail or a hospital ward soured Jake’s stomach. Aware that he was crawling out on a very thin limb, he added, “I’ll take full responsibility. Okay?”

      Two pairs of skeptical eyes stared back at him, but he stood his ground. As far as he knew—and he had a pretty good grasp of the law—living in the past wasn’t a crime. And no one, especially not a sad and confused young woman, should have to spend Christmas behind bars for that.

      Hanna climbed into the unfamiliar vehicle and clasped her hands in her lap. She took a deep breath. When the officer with the compassionate brown eyes had offered her the choice of spending the night with his family or spending the next few days locked in a cell or in the mental ward of the hospital, well, really there hadn’t been much of a choice, had there? But agreeing to go off with a perfect stranger—even a police officer—was one thing. Actually getting into his strange vehicle and letting him take her who-knew-where was something else again. Her head pounded. She closed her eyes and ordered herself to be brave.

      “Seat belt,” Officer Stanton said, sliding behind the wheel.