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Dan nodded, still looking at the man on the bed. “Has he been awake?”
“Not for more than seconds at a time. I thought he was waking up a few minutes ago, but he drifted off again. They’ve pumped him full of antibiotics and who knows what else. I suppose the drugs could be affecting him.”
“More likely the concussion. LuWanda said she’d be in to check on him as soon as she gets Red Tucker calmed down. I’d better get out there and help her. Nothing like a hospital full of panicky parents to keep everyone hopping.”
“Thank God none of the students was seriously injured.”
“Yeah. My niece was on that bus,” Dan admitted with a grimace. “Scared the stuffing out of me when I heard about it.”
“Polly’s okay?”
“She’s fine. Got herself a bloody nose and a black eye, but she’ll be okay once she gets over the scare.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Yeah. By the way, your scoop girl’s out there making a nuisance of herself. Want me to send her in to keep you company?”
She smiled and shook her head. “Let Lindsey do her job.”
“Asking all the parents how it feels to almost lose a child in a bus accident? Hell of a job, if you ask me.”
Dan had never made any secret of his opinion of the reporters who worked for the Evening Star, the newspaper Serena’s great-grandfather had started, and which she now owned through a set of circumstances that still bewildered her. Before she could defend the importance of the press to him—for perhaps the thousandth time—an outburst in the hallway caught their attention.
Dan sighed. “Sounds like Red’s getting wound up again. I’d better go give LuWanda a hand with him. You going to stay around awhile?”
She nodded. “I feel as though I should stay until things calm down a bit and someone has time to spend with this poor man.”
“‘This poor man?’” Dan’s expression was quizzical. “You know something about him that I don’t?”
“No, of course not. I just—well, you know. I found him and now I feel sort of responsible for him.”
“Mmm. That’s the kind of thinking that gets well-intentioned folks in trouble. Better find out who he is before you adopt him.”
Fully aware that Dan was always suspicious of outsiders in his town and would be particularly wary of anyone who showed up under these circumstances, Serena nodded. She was as vigilant as Dan about keeping their hometown free from the crimes that had taken hold in so many places even as small and unremarkable as this.
Dan glanced again at the man in the bed on his way out of the room. “Have someone call me when he wakes up, will you? I have a few questions for him.”
Serena watched him leave. He left the door open a couple of inches, so she could hear him speaking in his measured, authoritative manner, his voice fading as he moved away with Red Tucker and whoever else had been in the hallway outside the room. And then she ran a hand through her hair again and turned to keep watch over the man in the bed—only to find that his eyes were open and focused intently on her face.
“Oh. So you’re awake again. Are you able yet to talk to the chief of police, or would you like me to give you a few minutes before I call him back in?”
The woman was sitting in a chair very close to the narrow bed on which he found himself. She leaned slightly toward him as she spoke, and there appeared to be concern in her eyes. He knew those eyes. Blue. Or maybe green. Pretty. There were only two of them this time. One nose. One mouth. All very nicely arranged in an oval face framed in a soft brown bob. Whatever had happened to him—and he was awake enough to realize that he was lying in a hospital room—he was still able to recognize that this was a very attractive woman. He found that observation reassuring. He couldn’t be damaged too badly if he was still interested in the opposite sex.
“Sir?” she repeated when he continued to stare at her rather than answering. “Did you hear me? Can you speak to me?”
He blinked, trying to recall what she’d said. Something about…police? He frowned, then winced when his swollen, sore face rebelled against the expression. “Uh—yeah, I can hear you,” he managed to say, his voice gruff, as if it hadn’t been used in a long time.
The sound of it seemed to encourage her. “How do you feel?”
The only appropriate phrase he could come up with in answer seemed inappropriate for mixed company. He settled for, “Not great.”
“I don’t doubt it. You have several very painful injuries, but the doctor said you’ll be fine. Things are rather hectic here tonight because of a school bus accident, but it’s a decent little hospital. They’ll take good care of you.”
“Where…?” He swallowed to clear his thick voice, then tried again. “Where is this hospital?”
“Edstown,” she answered.
“Ed’s town?” he repeated blankly. “Who’s Ed?”
“I’m sorry, I thought you…it’s Edstown,” she said again. “Edstown, Arkansas.”
“Arkansas.” He repeated the name of the state slowly, trying to make it mean something to him. “How did I get here?”
“I found you lying in a ditch near my house. You had been severely beaten—perhaps left for dead. I called an ambulance and accompanied you here. Do you remember any of this?”
Actually, there were quite a few things he didn’t remember—but he wasn’t ready to get into that. Not with the word “police” still echoing hollowly in his mind.
She was studying him with a frown. “Maybe I’d better go get a doctor….”
“No.” He tried to hold up a hand to stop her, but both his arms seemed to be strapped down, the left wrist in a splint or bandage of some sort. “Wait. Don’t go yet.”
For some reason, he didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want to lie here alone, hurting and fighting the confusion that was steadily threatening to overwhelm him. He was sure everything would come back to him once he’d had a chance to rest and recover for a few minutes. Considering the circumstances, it was no wonder he couldn’t even remember his…
“Your name,” the woman was saying. “You haven’t even told me your name.”
Tom? Dick? Harry? Nothing. Not a glimmer of recognition. How the hell could he forget his own name? he wondered in mounting frustration.
She seemed to go suddenly tense. “You do remember your name, don’t you?”
He pictured her reaction if he admitted that his mind was achingly blank. She’d probably panic. She’d start calling doctors and nurses…maybe that chief of police she’d mentioned. The medical staff would rush in, poking and peering and treating him like some kind of freak, and who knew what the cop would believe. “Of course I remember my name.”
She waited.
“Sam,” he said, seizing the first moniker that came to him.
“Sam?” Her smooth brow wrinkled again. Obviously, his hasty answer hadn’t satisfied her.
He groped for a surname. Nothing. His gaze skimmed the room as if searching for an answer. Bed. Chair. Floor. “Wall,” he murmured. “Er…Wallace,” he amended quickly.
He didn’t know why he was so reluctant to admit the truth. Just tell her he couldn’t for the life of him remember his name—or anything else that mattered. Actually, maybe he should be worried. He could be suffering brain damage. Something a doctor should look into immediately. Could be bleeding from the brain. God only knew what else. But something kept him quiet. He felt so stupid…he was sure it would all come back to him in a minute. He just needed a little time.
Whoever he was, he apparently believed in handling his own problems in his own way.
“Sam Wallace?” she repeated, a bit doubtfully.
Hell, why not? It would work until something better occurred to him. Like his real name. “Yeah. Sam Wallace. Who are you?”
“Serena Schaffer.”
Serena. It suited her, he decided. “Thank you for rescuing me, Serena Schaffer,” he said.
“I didn’t do that much, but you’re welcome. Now I really should get someone in here. The doctor will want to know you’re awake…and Dan Meadows, our chief of police, wants to talk to you. Just to ask you a few questions about what happened to you.”
The word police made him tense again. He wished he knew why. It was like…an instinct. Something inside him that told him to be very careful. At least until he remembered—
The door opened and a very large woman in a white uniform bustled in, shaking her head and muttering to herself. “What a night. I swear, if that Red Tucker says one more cross word to me, I’m going to snatch him bald-headed. We’re taking care of all those kids the best we can, and he’s out there… Oh, my, he’s awake.”
“Yes, we’ve been talking,” Serena replied.
The nurse nodded. She leaned over the bed and peered into his eyes. “Headache?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“He seems a little disoriented,” Serena added, proving she hadn’t been entirely fooled by his act.
The nurse didn’t look surprised. “That’s to be expected with the concussion. The doctor will be in soon, but they’ve got him running out there now.”
He tried to nod, but went still when his head hammered in protest. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She didn’t smile. “How bad is the disorientation? Do you remember how you came to be here?”
According to Serena, he had been severely beaten. Left for dead in a ditch. “I know what happened.”
“Do you remember the attack itself?”
It seemed safe enough to say, “Not much, I’m afraid.”
“That’s to be expected. Any other memory loss?”
He looked straight into her dark eyes. “No.”
She seemed to believe him. Her pen hovered over the clipboard cradled in her left arm as she asked, “What’s your name?”
“Sam Wallace.”
“Middle initial?”
“None. Just Sam.” The parents he’d just invented for himself weren’t particularly creative. He wondered what his real parents were like. Were they even now looking for him, frantic with worry? Was he being a total idiot not to tell someone what was going on between his ears? The answer, of course, was yes. Still, he didn’t change his mind.
“Birth date?”
As far as he could remember, he’d been born less than half an hour ago. He chose a date at random, finding it mildly curious that he could remember things like names and months and numbers, even though they held no personal meaning for him. “June twenty-second.”
“Yeah? Today’s the twentieth, so that means you’ve got a birthday coming up in a few days. What year were you born?”
Year? He wasn’t even sure what year it was now. He couldn’t remember what he looked like, whether his hair was dark or light or gray—if he even had hair. He didn’t feel old…but he didn’t feel young, either.
Damn it, what was going on here? Why the hell couldn’t he remember?
He groaned.
Serena stood and rested her hand on his shoulder, the gesture oddly protective. “He’s obviously in pain, LuWanda. Isn’t there anything you can do for him?”
LuWanda closed the clipboard. “I’ll get the doctor.”
He was grateful for the brief reprieve. He gave Serena a shamelessly pitiful look. “My head’s killing me,” he said.
She brushed a lank strand of hair off his forehead, her fingertips cool against his skin. So he did have hair. Nice to know.
“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do for you? Someone I can call for you?”
He thought again of the family that could be searching for him. With a mental apology to them—if, indeed, they existed—he shook his head. “There isn’t anyone to call, but thank you for offering.”
What he really wanted right now was to be alone. A chance to think. To break through the mental barrier that was keeping him from his memories. He was certain that he could do so if he only had the time to work at it a bit…on his own, without disruptions. But as the door opened again and a short, squarely built older man he assumed to be the doctor strode briskly into the room, he knew it would be a while yet before he would be left alone. Now he had only to keep up his pretense until his mind cleared, which he fervently hoped it would do before he had to deal with the police. If the memories didn’t return soon… Well, he would take this one step at a time.
Seeing the doctor, Serena smiled and stepped back. “I’ll get out of the way now and let Dr. Frank take care of you. You’re in good hands here, Sam.”
Sam. The name sounded strange…but maybe just a little familiar? Was it possible that it really was his own? “You’re leaving?”
Again, he found himself reluctant to see her go, perhaps because she was, for now, the first thing he remembered.
“Maybe we’ll see each other again before you leave,” she said lightly.
“I hope so,” he murmured, and realized that he meant it. At the moment, she felt very much like his only friend.
The hospital was quiet, all the school bus passengers treated and released to the care of their relieved families. At the end of the hallway, Dan Meadows stood talking to an attractive young woman who was scribbling in a battered notebook. Serena could tell from the police chief’s posture that he was rapidly growing impatient answering the reporter’s questions. She moved to rescue him.
“As I said,” she heard Dan saying in a flat, clipped voice, “no charges will be filed against the bus driver or anyone else until a full investigation of the accident has been conducted. Now I really don’t know what else you want me to say, but—”
“What have I told you about hassling the local authorities, Lindsey?” Serena asked with a faint smile.
Her employee grinned with the irreverence Serena had come to expect from the youngest member of the Evening Star staff. “You wouldn’t deny me one of my favorite pastimes, would you?”
“For the sake of the newspaper’s future dealings with the police department, I’m afraid I’m going to have to. Is there anything else you need for your article?”
“I’ve got everything I need about the bus accident,” Lindsey answered. “But I hear we have another interesting story in Room Two Oh Five. Who’s the mysterious stranger, Serena?”
“I’m waiting to hear that, myself,” Dan said, giving Lindsey a repressive look. “Until we have all the facts, there’s really nothing for you to write about him.”
“Dan’s right, Lindsey. All we know now is that he was found on Bullock Lake Road, suffering injuries from what appears to be a severe beating. I think you’ll have to wait until tomorrow for further details. He’s not strong enough to deal with the police and the press this evening.”
“Is he awake yet?” Dan asked.
She nodded. “I talked to him for a few minutes. He said his name is Sam Wallace. I’m afraid that’s pretty much the extent of what I learned about him. Dr. Frank’s with him now.”
“He refused to talk about what happened?” Dan frowned, as if that confirmed his suspicion that Sam Wallace had been involved in something shady.
Serena shook her head. “He didn’t refuse. He’s groggy, in pain. It seemed difficult for him to concentrate. He was quite pleasant, actually, just a bit confused. I’m not sure he even remembers what happened.”
