her hand on her gun, Audrey stepped out of the room and pushed open the door to the unoccupied room across the hall. The window was open. She stuck her head out.
Footprints in the dusting of snow on the ledge gave Audrey a pretty good idea of how the perpetrator had gained access—he’d climbed the fire escape and shuffled along the ledge to the window. The lock had been broken. She slammed the window closed and made a mental note to have someone fix the latch as soon as possible.
Audrey returned to John Doe’s room and addressed the nurse helping Gregson. “Is he going to be okay?”
“Yes,” the woman said. “He’ll need a couple of sutures. Dr. Martin will want to examine him to be sure he doesn’t have a mild concussion.”
“Okay, see that he’s taken care of,” Audrey said. She put her hand on Gregson’s shoulder. “I’ll take over the watch tonight. The sheriff should be here any moment. He’ll want a full account.”
Gregson nodded and looked a bit green around the edges as the nurse helped him to stand and led him out of the room.
Once alone with the unconscious man in the bed, Audrey checked the window, making sure the lock was intact and secure. She took several deep, calming breaths and let the adrenaline ebb away. She’d had more excitement in the past twenty-four hours than since graduating from the academy. She positioned the chair so she had a clear view of the door and the window in case the masked attacker decided to return.
“You’re beautiful.”
Startled, Audrey whipped around to find herself staring into the dark eyes of John Doe. His lopsided grin sucked the breath from her lungs. She’d never understood the term roguishly handsome until this moment. Even groggy and on pain meds, he affected her on an elemental level. Which made her extremely uneasy. What would he be like fully conscious?
Heart pounding, she stepped closer to the bed. “Who are you? What’s your name?”
His eyelids fluttered, and he said something unintelligible.
She reached for the button to call the nurse when his fingers closed over her wrist, pressing against her skin where the sleeve of her uniform rode up. His touch was firm but gentle. Strong hands, and calloused, she noted in a bemused way that made her twitchy. She tugged on her arm, hoping he’d get a clue and release his hold. He didn’t.
“You look like a Christmas ornament.” His words were slurred. “Shiny. Pretty.”
His hand dropped away as if he could no longer hold on. His head lolled to the side, and his eyes closed.
“Hey,” Audrey said, giving him a slight shake. “Mister, I need you to wake up.”
But he’d gone out again.
Okay, that was weird. He’d likened her to a Christmas ornament. Shiny—that was a new one. If she hadn’t known he’d been conked on the head and was on mild painkillers, she’d have thought he was on some sort of hallucinogenic. Maybe he was on something stronger than the medical grade medicine. She’d have to ask her mother.
She sat but was too antsy to stay still. She paced at the foot of the bed, every few seconds checking to see if the man had regained consciousness again.
The door opened suddenly, sending her pulse skyrocketing and her hand reaching for her sidearm.
“Whoa, there,” her great-uncle’s deep voice intoned as he stepped into the room. “Just me.”
She relaxed her stance. “Did you see Gregson?”
“Yep. He’ll be fine.” David moved to the end of the bed and set a fingerprint kit on the chair. “You’ve saved this man’s life thrice now.”
Her mouth twitched at her uncle’s words. He’d once been a scholar of Old English before giving up academia and carving out a path in law enforcement. “I have a feeling the masked villain isn’t going to give up.”
He tipped his chin toward the man lying on the bed. “Has he come to?”
“Briefly.”
“Did he say anything?”
She hesitated, unwilling to reveal the words that were still echoing inside her head. “Nothing useful. Gibberish. Do you know if a tox screen was done?”
David arched an eyebrow. “You know your mother. Of course that was one of the first things she did.”
“Right.” Her mother couldn’t abide drugs. She’d lost her younger brother to the poison years ago. “And?”
“Clean blood. No track marks.”
“Good.” For some reason knowing John Doe wasn’t a junkie pleased her. But just what and who he was remained a mystery, as did why someone was so ardently trying to kill him. What did John know? “The man who shot at me wasn’t some garden-variety bad guy. Whatever John Doe is, he’s into something bad.”
“Yeah, I have that feeling, too. The road tacks the perp used to stop my car when I chased after him can be bought online easy enough. But there was skill involved.”
In the melee of the crash and aftermath, she’d forgotten what John Doe had said on the beach. “He’d muttered a word when I first reached him—betrayed.”
“That’s interesting. And concerning. The masked man may have been his attacker from the get-go and is very determined to finish the job. I don’t like it. I want you to go home,” the sheriff said. “I’ll stick around until Harrison and Paulson can get here.”
She straightened. Did he think she wasn’t doing a good job? “I’ll stay.”
“You’ve been on duty since five a.m.”
“I’m not tired.”
He sighed. “Let’s get his prints and a photo. Then I’m ordering you to go home. In the morning you can search the criminal and missing-persons databases. Hopefully you’ll come up with a name and a reason why someone wants him dead.”
* * *
Audrey arrived at the station at 6 a.m. and uploaded the fingerprints she’d taken from their mysterious John Doe and his photo off her phone into the FBI’s national criminal information center as well as the violent criminal apprehension program for missing persons.
Nothing turned up.
The man could be a Canadian, since the border between the two countries was only a few miles across the ocean. She sent his prints and his photo to the criminal investigation division of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, Canada’s federal policing agency. She provided her cell phone number so they could contact her directly.
Then she headed back to the medical center to relieve the sheriff. She met Deputy Paulson outside John Doe’s room. “How did it go?”
“All quiet,” he replied. “Sheriff’s inside.”
She entered, half hoping John Doe had awakened. He still slept. His face looked relaxed. His dark hair fell over his forehead, covering one eye. Beside him sat the sheriff with his arms folded over his massive chest, his chin tipped down and his eyes closed. Audrey hesitated, debating stepping back out.
“You’re here early,” the sheriff said softly, lifting his head.
She straightened and came fully into the room. “No hits on NCIC or ViCAP. I sent his info to the RCMP.”
“Good thinking.” He stood and stretched. “I’m going to grab some coffee. You want some?”
“No, thank you,” she replied. His praise eased the worry from the night before that she wasn’t doing a good job. Her spine straightened as she moved aside to let him pass.
She went to the window. Frost laced the edges of the glass. She stared at the tree line flanking the west side of the building. The green pine trees were sprinkled with