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Savvy nodded.
Frank’s eyes narrowed and he got right to the point, “Well, then, what do you remember from last night?”
Savvy deadpanned. “Nothing.”
“Nothing whatsoever?” Frank’s brows rose.
“Until Dawson told me, I didn’t even know my name.” If Dawson hadn’t already witnessed the effect of her memory loss on her, he might have missed the quaver in her voice.
The D.A. missed it completely. “I’ll have a talk with the doctor. There has to be a way to get your memory back.”
“Let me save you the effort.” Savvy’s shoulders pushed back, her spine stiffening beneath Dawson’s hand. “He said the amnesia could be temporary or could just as easily be permanent. Only time will tell.”
Young’s eyes narrowed and he stared hard at Savvy. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything?”
Savvy glared at the D.A. “Why would I lie about a thing like that?” She waved at the hospital room. “How would you like to wake up in a hospital room, with strangers, and no idea who or what you are? Try it sometime, although I don’t recommend it.” She nudged Dawson’s arm. “I need to sit.” The hand on his arm shook, but Savvy’s face remained firm and unwavering.
“My apologies, Ms. Jones.” Frank Young’s head dipped toward her. “You might not understand just how important it is that you remember what happened.”
“Since I can’t remember, maybe you can tell me why it’s so important.”
“Ms. Jones, a man was killed in that alley, by the gun the police found in your hand.”
Dawson’s arm tightened around Savvy as he fought the urge to plant a fist in the district attorney’s smug face.
Savvy leaned into him, her face waxy white, making the freckles stand out across her nose and cheeks. “They found a gun in my hand?” She stared down at her right hand and then reached up to touch the gauze circling her head. “Why would I have shot someone? Was he shooting at me?” Her fingers found the lump of bandages over her left temple.
“That’s what we need to know. Why would you shoot Tomas Rodriguez and then shoot yourself?”
Savvy stared up at Dawson, her brows furrowed. “I shot someone then I shot myself?” She shook her head. “Is this true?”
Dawson grabbed her cold hands and held them in his, wishing the D.A. would back off. “That’s the way it appeared.”
“Why do you think I shot someone and myself? There has to be a reason … evidence.”
“When your coworker found you, she reported that you had a gun in your hand.” The D.A. crossed the room and stood directly in front of her, his gaze intense, drilling into hers. “The same one used to shoot yourself in the head and to kill Tomas Rodriguez. The only fingerprints on the weapon are yours.”
Her eyes widened and she stared at Young. “I don’t remember.” She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, her head swinging from side to side. “I don’t remember anything.”
Frank Young’s lips pursed into a tight line. “I suggest you do something about getting your memory back, Ms. Jones, or you could be tried for the murder of Tomas Rodriguez.”
Savvy looked to Dawson, her eyes searching for answers. “How can I be tried for a murder I can’t remember committing?”
“The evidence is circumstantial,” Dawson said in an attempt to reassure Savvy.
“If my fingerprints are on the murder weapon, the evidence isn’t just circumstantial, it’s damning.” She turned to the D.A. “What can I do?”
“Stay in town.” Frank Young brushed a speck of dust off his fancy suit, before looking up at Savvy again. “No formal charges have been brought against you, as yet. That could be only a question of time. In the meantime, you and Mr. Gray have bigger problems than the federal court system.”
Savvy laughed, the sound verging on hysterical. “What could be worse than being accused of murder?”
“Tomas Rodriguez was Humberto Rodriguez’s only child.” Dawson stared down into her face, his hands holding hers firmly in his. What else could he do? He couldn’t shield her from the truth any longer. She needed to know what she was up against. “Humberto Rodriguez is the kingpin in the Mexican drug cartel in Laredo’s sister town, Nuevo Laredo, and some say even here in Laredo. He’s also known for his ruthless and vindictive streak.”
Savvy pulled her hands free of Dawson’s, a frown tracing furrows in her forehead. “Does he think I killed his son?”
“The local news media got hold of the story.” Young glanced up at the empty television screen. “Everyone in south Texas and the northern regions of Mexico knows Tomas Rodriguez is dead. It’s been all over the news stations. Once Humberto gets wind that you were the one holding the smoking gun, we’ve no doubt he’ll be after you. Based on the earlier attack I was informed of, sounds like he already knows who and where you are.”
Savvy lay back against the pillows and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Great. Everyone knows who I am but me.”
The Dawson of a couple months ago would have headed for the nearest bar to escape his troubles. And frankly, the call of whiskey had him licking dry lips. One glance at the pale, defenseless woman lying in the hospital bed dispelled any lingering desire to drown his worries in booze. The police force hadn’t protected her. Young had been right, someone who didn’t have a stake in the region needed to handle this job.
“Knock, knock.” A dark-haired woman poked her head through the door and smiled.
Dawson stepped between the door and Savvy’s bed, shielding her from any possible threat.
“This is Savvy Jones’s room, right?” The woman eased through the doorway, her brows dipping low on her forehead.
“Yes, it is, Ms. Scott.” Frank Young closed the distance between them. “Please come in. Maybe if Ms. Jones sees a familiar face it will jog her memory.” Young cupped the woman’s elbow and drew her toward the bed. “Savvy, do you remember Liz Scott? She’s the coworker who found you in the alley.”
Savvy stared up at the slim woman with the long, dark brown hair hanging down around her shoulders.
She wore faded jeans and a white cotton blouse with the sleeves rolled up. “Hi, sweetie,” Liz said in a soft Southern drawl as she set a bud vase with a single yellow rose on the nightstand beside the bed. “I brought you some clean clothes for when they release you.” She held up a canvas bag, tears pooling in her eyes as she forced a shaky smile. “How are you feelin'? You gave us all quite a scare.”
Panic swelled in Savvy’s chest as she looked up at the woman and tried to remember her. She looked nice, and she acted as if she knew her, but nothing triggered in her memory to remind her who she was. “Do I know you?”
Tears tipped over the edge of Liz’s eyes and she forced a laugh. “Yes, honey, you do. We work together at the Waterin’ Hole. You’re the only one there who keeps me from walloping the customers. And you babysit my Charlie sometimes.” Liz glanced across at the D.A. and back at Savvy and shrugged. “What did the doctor say about the memory loss? Does he think it’s only temporary?”
Savvy shrugged. “We won’t know until the memories return … or not.” She leaned forward and grasped Liz’s hand. “I’m sorry, but could you tell me more about … me?”
“I’ll tell you everything I know.” Liz’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “Which doesn’t amount to a whole hill of beans.”
“Why?” Savvy asked, anxious to recover her past and frustrated about the lack of information forthcoming. “Am I a bad person?”
“Oh, no, not at all. You’ve been the best thing since sliced bread to me and Charlie.” Liz held her hand and perched on the side of the bed. “You’re not just my coworker, you’re my friend and have been since you came to live in the same apartment complex four months ago.”
“Where?” Savvy gulped, drinking in everything the woman said, wanting so badly to fill the empty spaces in her memory. “Where do we live?”
“In the Oasis Apartments complex close to the Waterin’ Hole. You’re in 212, Charlie and I are in 215. Which reminds me …” She dropped Savvy’s hand and stood, digging in her back pocket. She pulled out a folded sheet of paper and handed it to Savvy. “Charlie sent this.”
“Charlie …” Another name she couldn’t put a face to. She fought back tears as she accepted the paper and unfolded it. A large, purple heart drawn in crayon filled the page. In the center, written in a child’s bold print, were the words We love you, Savvy.
A familiar ache filled her chest as she stared down at the crinkled paper. Familiar and yet forgotten in the depths of her muddled mind. “Charlie is …”
“My seven-year-old, precocious daughter.” Liz patted Savvy’s arm. “She worships the ground you walk on.”
Savvy stared up at the woman, her eyes blurring with tears. “I don’t remember her.” Her tears fell on the page she held, a sob rising up her throat. “I don’t remember whether or not I have a family and, I’m so sorry, but I don’t remember you.” More tears followed until her body shook.
Liz rubbed her back, her hand warm and comforting. “Oh, sweetie, it’ll be okay. You’ll get it back.”
The D.A. moved closer. “Yes, and when you do, I want to talk to you. I—we need to know who else was in that alley with you and Tomas Rodriguez. It could mean all the difference in your defense.”
Her eyes widening, Liz stepped between the D.A. and Savvy. “Savvy didn’t kill that man. She wouldn’t do that.”
Could she really be tried for murder? Did they really think she’d killed a man? Savvy raised her hands. The most frightening question yet was could she have done it? Think, Savvy, think! She squeezed her eyes closed and pressed the bridge of her nose with her fingertips. The more she tried to remember, the more her head ached. When she opened her eyes, the two men stared at her. The D.A. hovering like a vulture ready to pounce on roadkill. Dawson with pity and concern written into the lines creasing his forehead. God, she didn’t want to think, and didn’t want anyone’s pity, especially from this man who claimed to be her bodyguard, albeit a reluctant bodyguard. Her chest ached and her eyes burned. Savvy didn’t want to cry, but couldn’t hold back much longer. She reached out and gripped Liz’s hand. “Please, make them go away.”
Through her tears, she could see the slight narrowing of Dawson’s eyes. He turned to the D.A. and took his arm, steering him toward the door. “Look, you said you didn’t think she did it. Give her some space. Maybe she’ll remember who did.”
Frank hesitated, “But I have more questions.”
“Questions she obviously can’t answer. Let the woman rest. She’s been through enough for one day.”
With that, Frank Young let the bodyguard herd him out of Savvy’s hospital room, the door swinging closed behind them.
“There, now.” Liz smoothed the hair out of Savvy’s face and smiled at her. “They’re gone. Is there anything I could do for you?”
“Yes.” Savvy gulped back the ready tears and scrubbed the end of the sheet across her cheeks. “You can tell me who I am.”
Liz squeezed her hand. “Well, now, I can tell you this … you showed up four months ago at the apartment complex, looking for a furnished apartment. I remember that day because you looked kind of sad and desperate. All you had with you was a small bag filled with clothes. You didn’t have a job and only carried enough money in your pocket to pay the first month’s rent. The apartment manager almost didn’t let you rent because you didn’t even have a driver’s license, credit card or any other form of identification on you.”
“None? But where did I come from? Why did I go there?”
“You said you’d driven until you’d run out of gas and very nearly ran out of money.” Liz’s lips twisted. “You never told me why. I think you were running away from something or someone.”
Savvy’s forehead crinkled, pulling at the bandage at her temple. The pain reminded her that she was awake, alive and not dreaming this horrible nightmare. Who am I?
“I hope you don’t mind, but after the ambulance carried you away to the hospital, I checked through your purse, hoping to find information about next of kin, but didn’t find a driver’s license, medical insurance or any other form of identification.” Liz shrugged. “I’m not sure if you have someone somewhere who could be getting worried about you. I’ve been your friend for four months, but I don’t know much about your past.”
Savvy shook her head, pulling her hand from Liz’s warm fingers. “It’s as if I don’t exist.” Her chest tightened, making it harder for her to breathe. The room seemed to shrink in size as she stared at the sterile white walls of the hospital room, her heartbeat increasing its pace until it pounded against her ribs. “I need to get out of here.”
Liz frowned. “Has the doctor released you? Are you cleared to leave?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I have to get out.” She pushed the sheets aside and slid her legs over the side of the mattress, ready to walk out, until she remembered her previous attempts and how weak she’d been. She hated being dependent on anyone, but knew she might end up reinjuring her head if she fell again. “Will you help me?”
“Of course, but should you be getting up?” Liz gripped Savvy’s elbow and helped her to her feet. “I mean, you’ve had a head injury.”
Determination to do this on her own filled Savvy and stiffened her legs. This time when her feet hit the floor, she remained standing. Whether she trembled from the effort or from the lingering effects of the drugs still wearing off, she didn’t care. “That’s good. I can do this.” Now what? She couldn’t waltz out of here in a hospital gown.
“I don’t know about this.” Liz held on to her arm, her gaze darting for the door as if hoping the two men would return and rescue her. “You should stay until the doctor says you’re good to go.”
“I can’t. I have to get back to familiar surroundings. Maybe that will help me to remember.”
Still holding her arm, Liz stepped in front of her. “You’re pushing it, Savvy. You need to take care of yourself.” She cupped her face with her hand. “Honey, you could have died.”
“I might as well have never lived. I don’t remember anything. Do you even have a clue how that feels? My mind is completely blank. Nothing. Nada.” Savvy threw her hand in the air and teetered.
“It’ll take time, sweetie. You might not get your memory back in a day.” Liz stared at the door. “You’re not ready to go out there. It’s crazy.”
“I’m spinning my wheels here in the hospital, getting nowhere. Nothing here triggers a single memory. Nothing. I need familiar territory. I want to go to my apartment to see if anything comes back.” Savvy’s hand raised to Liz’s still cupping her face. “If you’re really my friend you’ll help me.”
For a long moment, Liz stared into Savvy’s eyes, then she glanced at the bandage swathing her head and finally she sighed. “Do you need help getting dressed?”
“No, I think I can manage.” Relief flooded Savvy. Tightrope-like tension followed immediately. She let go of Liz and took several tentative steps toward the bathroom. Although wobbly, she managed on her own. At the bathroom door, she grabbed for the handle.
“Hey, you’ll need these.” Liz eased past her and set the bag of clothes on the floor inside the bathroom. “Don’t be a hero. I can help. All you have to do is ask.”
Savvy gave her a shy smile. “Thanks. I will.” She closed the door between them and leaned on the bathroom sink. Taking a deep breath, she raised her head and stared into the mirror, hoping that seeing her own face would trigger her missing memories.
Hope died when she gazed at the woman in the reflection. A white bandage covered her left temple, held in place by a strip of gauze wrapped around her head. Strawberry-blond hair, matted with specks of blood fell over her shoulders and down her back. Deep green eyes looked back at her … eyes of a stranger. Nothing in the mirror made her remember this woman, or her past.
A sob rose up her throat and she choked it down. She couldn’t cry over her loss—she wouldn’t. If she wanted to recover her memory, she had to go to familiar places, touch her things, live the life she’d been living to get it back, memories and all.
Since her face didn’t jog her memory, she’d have to go to the places she’d lived and worked. If they didn’t find evidence of another suspect, she’d be arrested and charged with the murder of Tomas Rodriguez. The sooner she remembered, the sooner she could clear her name, before the authorities decided to toss her in jail.
A sense of urgency filled her as she dug into the gym bag Liz had brought. She found clean jeans, a blue Dallas Cowboys T-shirt, panties, bra and white tennis shoes, a hairbrush and toothbrush.
Careful not to disturb her wound, she washed her face, dressed, stopping now and again when her head swam with the effort. Clothed and feeling a bit steadier on her feet, she tackled the gauze circling her head, peeling it off, round by round. When she pulled the bandage away, a two-inch square, white gauze bandage peeked out of the edge of her hairline near her temple.
Using a clean washcloth, she dabbed at the dried blood and residual orange-colored disinfectant used around the bandage. Gently working the brush through her hair, she restored it to some semblance of order, draping the hair over the wound as best she could, hiding most of it. Pale and shaky, she stepped from the bathroom, having accomplished the tasks in less than five minutes. “I’m ready. Can you give me a lift?”
Liz held out her arm. “If you insist. I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”
“I have to do it. Someone has to be trying to frame me. Until I remember what happened, I’m the prime suspect. My memory is the only thing standing between me and jail.”
“Savvy, you may or may not get your memory back.” Liz smiled sadly. “What then?”
“I’m taking this one bite at a time.” Savvy pushed through the door to her room and out into the hallway, walking right into Dawson’s chest.
Oh yeah, she had to convince her court-appointed bodyguard to let her leave the hospital.
Chapter Four
Dawson gripped Savvy’s arms and steadied her. “Why are you out of bed?”
She straightened and pushed away from him. “I’m going home.” When she tried to pull free of his hands, his grip tightened.
“Not until the doc releases you, you aren’t.”
She stared up at him, her mouth thinning, tears awash in her eyes. “I have to. Don’t you see? I can’t remember anything here. I have to be around my own things.”
“You can wait until tomorrow.”
“No.” She reached up to pry his hands loose, her weakened state making her attempt ineffectual. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. Not knowing is driving me crazy. Let me go.” A single tear tipped over the edge of her eyelid and slid down her cheek. “Please.”
He could have resisted if she’d yelled and screamed at him, but the one tear and her anguished plea jerked at his heart, reawakening the dormant organ. How could he resist those eyes staring up at him as if he held her world in his hands? For a moment, he wavered. “No, it’s not safe out there.”
Savvy’s lips twisted in a half grin, her eyes shimmering. “And it’s safe here?”
She had a point. The attack that morning had almost ended his assignment before it had begun. “It’s easier to protect you inside a building than out in the open. The avenues for attack multiply exponentially once you step out the hospital doors.”
