Vince had become dazed with it all, because he suddenly spoke up. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure out where you belong. Right now you need to rest. Vince and I will be back tomorrow.”
The words didn’t appear to give her much relief, as she touched fingertips to the bandage on her temple and closed her eyes.
“Thank you,” she said glumly.
“No thanks are needed, ma’am. We’re just doing our job,” Evan told her.
Vince couldn’t bring himself to say another word. He was too busy fighting the urge to pull her into his arms. What in hell was coming over him? This woman had been completely out of his life for six years. He shouldn’t be feeling anything except the need to find her family.
Turning on his heel, he strode out of the room and didn’t stop until he was several feet down the corridor. He was leaning a shoulder against the wall and wiping a hand over his face when Evan came up behind him.
“That woman isn’t putting on an act, Vince. She truly doesn’t remember.”
Vince squeezed his eyes shut and tried to shove away the raw emotions tearing through him. “Yeah. That much is obvious.”
“You didn’t know she was in the area?”
“Hell, no!” Vince muttered. “I would’ve already told you.”
“Sorry I asked. I know we don’t keep things from each other. But I thought—well, from everything you’ve told me about your marriage, I realize she’s a bit of a sore spot and you might not have wanted to bring it up.”
Vince let out a heavy breath before turning to face his partner. “I don’t have a clue what reason she might have for coming to Carson City,” he said, then let out a rueful groan. “Clearly she doesn’t, either.”
“So when are you going to tell her? I mean, who she is. That might be a start to easing her mind. And who knows, maybe she was on her way here to see you.”
Evan’s suggestion brought him up short. “That’s crazy! She couldn’t have been coming here to see me. After we divorced, all ties between us were dropped. For all she knew I could’ve been living in Alaska.”
“Hmm. You know as well as I that if she wanted to locate you, all she needed to do was make a quick computer search and she would’ve known exactly where you lived.”
Shaking his head, Vince started walking in the direction of the elevator. “That’s true. If she’d wanted to locate me. But I’d bet money she was driving into Carson City for some other reason. So let’s go see what our data tells us about Geena.”
Evan caught up to him. “You know she’s Geena, but what is her last name now? Yours? Her maiden name? A new husband’s name? This might not be simple.”
Vince didn’t expect anything about Geena’s case to be simple. In fact, he figured being shot again would be easier to handle than dealing with his ex-wife. But he’d never shirked his duty or asked to be taken off a case just because he found it to be uncomfortable. And he wasn’t about to start now.
“No. But let’s hope it will be.”
Without warning, Evan reached over and caught Vince by the arm.
Stopping in his tracks, Vince looked at him. “What now?”
A sheepish expression crossed Evan’s face. “I hate to bring this up, Vince, but do you think Geena might have been drinking? Alcohol would explain the accident.”
Vince let out a long breath. He’d told Evan more than once that Geena’s drinking had been a huge part of the reason he’d called it quits on their marriage. Vince could easily understand why Evan was questioning her sobriety now.
“Believe me, Evan, when I saw that it was Geena lying in that bed, the thought of alcohol definitely ran through my mind. She was clearly confused. But that could’ve been a result of the concussion. Anyway, I certainly hate to think she’d be drinking in her pregnant condition. But we won’t know for sure until a detailed toxicology report comes back.”
“And that will probably take two weeks,” Evan replied.
Not wanting to think what might happen between now and then, Vince nudged his partner toward the elevator. “Come on. We have work to do.”
* * *
Inside the hospital room, the young woman waited until she was certain the two detectives weren’t going to return, then slowly climbed out of bed. In spite of a swimmy head and a sore back, she managed to make it to a private bathroom located in one corner of the room.
To her relief there was a small mirror hanging over the lavatory. Clinging to the cold sink, she leaned forward and studied her image in the mirror.
Wavy blond hair touched a slender neck and shoulders. Slanted green eyes, full pink lips and pale ivory skin. This was the image she’d seen every day of her life for the past twenty-nine years. So why didn’t she recognize herself? And if she didn’t know her own name, how did she know her age? It was crazy!
Oh, God help her, she prayed. She was terrified to think what might happen to her and her baby. Did she have loved ones waiting for her, wondering why she hadn’t arrived home? Or maybe she had no home and she’d been running from something or someone!
In spite of the slivers of cold fear racing down her spine, sweat popped out on her forehead and upper lip. A wave of dizziness prompted her to grip the edge of the sink even tighter.
She was clutching the cold porcelain, wondering how she was going to make it back to the bed without falling, when she heard a soft gasp behind her.
“Young lady! What are you doing out of bed?”
From the corner of her eye, she could see a nurse hurrying toward her. The fact that help had suddenly arrived caused her to sigh with relief.
“I—I wanted to look in the mirror,” she attempted to explain to the nurse. “To see what I looked like.”
The nurse wrapped a supportive arm across her back and gently guided her away from the sink. “Now isn’t the time to be concerned about your appearance! You’re concussed. You’re not to get out of bed without a nurse’s assistance!”
“You don’t understand,” she tried to explain. “I didn’t know what I looked like! I don’t even know my name!”
“Don’t get excited,” she ordered. “It will only make everything worse for you and your baby.”
After she’d helped her safely back into bed, the nurse spread a thin sheet and blanket back over her and pulled up the bed railing. From a pocket at the foot of the bed, she collected a clipboard and scanned the information on the top two sheets of paper.
“Hmm. I see. I was told you had a concussion, but I see here that you’ve also been diagnosed with amnesia.” She looked up, her smile empathetic. “When you said you wanted to see what you looked like, you really meant it.”
As the nurse walked up to the head of the bed, she noticed the woman appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Thick auburn hair was twisted into a messy bun atop her head, while bright blue eyes peered compassionately back at her.
“Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? Until I looked in the mirror, I didn’t even know what color my hair was. But oddly enough, I think I remember my age. I believe I’m twenty-nine. I don’t know why.” She looked anxiously to the pretty nurse. The name Marcella was written on the name tag pinned to her breast. “Do you think that age is correct?”
The nurse’s smile deepened. “Hard to tell. I’d estimate you a bit younger. But I wouldn’t worry about any of that. You’ll be remembering soon. I’ve seen these sorts of injuries before. Most of them fix themselves fairly quickly. In the meantime, what are you going to call yourself?”
“Oh. I’d not thought about that. I guess I’m what you’d