The Deputy's Lost and Found (3 page)

Brady sighed. He honestly didn’t know what was eating at him. He was thankful, very thankful, that he and Hank had just happened to be traveling the road where Lass had lain unconscious. If not, well, he didn’t want to think about the outcome. And yet, the whole ordeal had shaken him, affected him like nothing he’d dealt with before.

“You’re right.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he momentarily closed his eyes. “I guess…it’s not every day that we find someone left on the side of the road for dead. I keep thinking, if that was you I’d want someone to do everything they could to help you.”

Bridget rubbed his forearm with understanding. “I always thought you were too soft-hearted for this job,” she said gently.

A dry smile curved his lips as he opened his eyes and looked down at her. “Hell, other than Grandma, you’re probably the only one in the family who thinks I have a heart.”

Her soft laugh was full of affection. “That’s because they don’t know you like we do.”

Were his sister and grandmother the only ones who realized he was more than a lawman, covering his heart with a bullet proof vest? How did Lass see him?

Forget that last question, Brady. How Gray Eyes sees you is irrelevant. She’s just a part of your job. Nothing more. Nothing less.

The next morning, Brady and Hank and two other deputies returned to the mountain road near Picacho to search the area for clues. Thankfully, the day was bright and no rain had fallen during the night to wash away evidence. But unfortunately, they found nothing, except
a crumpled betting ticket from Ruidoso Downs Racetrack. The twenty-dollar bet, found lying against a clump of sage, about a hundred yards down the road from Lass, had been for a trifecta on the fifth race of yesterday’s card. After a quick call to the track, Brady had learned that the ticket was worthless, so there was no other record of it.

But the money, or lack of it, was inconsequential at the moment, Brady figured. The main question was why the ticket was here on this back road where there was nothing but wilderness? Had a group of party-goers from the track driven out here just to find an isolated place to whoop it up? Teenagers might do something that foolish. But teenagers couldn’t wager. And Lass wasn’t a teen.

None of it made sense to Brady or his partner as they exchanged speculations.

“Maybe Lass was at the track yesterday and the ticket fell out of her pocket when she whammed her head,” Hank said as the two men stood in the middle of the quiet dirt road.

“Or when someone whammed it for her,” Brady said grimly. “We’ll post a few pictures of her at the track. We might get lucky and one of the clerks working the betting cages will recognize her.”

Last night, after Brady and Hank had left the hospital, they’d driven the thirty-mile trip to their headquarters in Carrizozo to finish the remainder of their shift. Before he’d gone home, Brady had looked through as many missing cases that could possibly be tied to the area and he’d come up with nothing that matched Lass’s description. No calls had come in to the sheriff’s office reporting anyone missing. Nor had there been any calls for domestic disputes, robberies or assaults. Other than the incident with Lass, the only thing that had gone on was a few public in
toxication and DUI arrests. Like Hank had said, last night had been as quiet as a sleeping cat.

This morning, after a lengthy meeting, Sheriff Hamilton had turned the entire case over to Brady and now as he scanned the rough terrain beyond the smoky lens of his sunglasses, he was feeling a heavy weight on his shoulders. For years now, Ethan Hamilton had been his mentor, even his hero. He never wanted to let the man down. Yet incredibly, it was Lass and her pleading face that was weighing on him the most.

Hank’s voice suddenly interrupted Brady’s deep thoughts. “It’s too bad we couldn’t have found her in the daylight. We might have been able to pick up on more footprints. Looks like most of them were blown away with last night’s wind.”

“No one ever said our job was supposed to be easy,” Brady replied as he continued to study the area around them.

The trees and vegetation weren’t exactly thick, but there was enough juniper and pine for a person to hide or get lost in. Not that either scenario applied to Lass, he thought. But his gut feeling kept telling him that she’d come out of the mountains and then ended up at the road’s edge, rather than the other way around.

“I think I’ll have a talk with Johnny Chino and see if he’ll come have a look at things,” Brady said after a moment. “It might help us to know what direction Lass came from before she ended up in the ditch.”

Hank tossed him a skeptical glance. “Good luck. Johnny hasn’t done any tracking since—well, not for years.”

Brady sighed. The Apache tracker was one of the best. But for a long time now the man had turned his back on a job that had once taken him all over the southwest. Brady didn’t exactly know what sort of personal demons the
tracker was carrying around, but he figured working again would be the best way for Johnny to get rid of them.

“He might do it for me. We’ve been friends since we were kids.”

“Like I said, good luck,” Hank muttered.

She was running through inky darkness. Stumbling over rocks and fallen branches. Her breaths were gasps of fire, burning her lungs and stabbing her chest with searing pain. Somewhere, far in front of her, she would find light and safety. If only she could keep running. If only…

“Lass? It’s Dr. Donovan. Wake up and talk with me.”

The firm voice penetrated the dark terror around her and Lass jerked awake with a jolt to see Deputy Donovan’s sister standing next to her bed.

“Oh! It’s you, Doctor.” Shoving a handful of disheveled hair off her face, Lass eased to a sitting position in the bed and blinked her eyes. Her whole body felt damp and her heart was pounding with lingering fear. “I guess I dozed off. I must have been dreaming or maybe I was trying to remember—I don’t know.”

The redheaded doctor studied her closely. “Do you remember your dream?”

Nodding, Lass shivered. “I was running in the dark. Away from something. And I was terrified. That’s all I know.”

The doctor pulled out a pin light and flashed it in both of Lass’s eyes. “Mmm. That’s a common nightmare. It could be a result of the trauma you’ve gone through or you could be remembering something that happened. Hard to say. In any case, I’m happy to report that your scans have been read and there are no fractures to your skull or any other major brain damage. You have a garden variety concussion and it should go away in the next few days. And
it’s a positive sign to see that your short-term memory is working. You obviously remember that I’m your doctor and you remembered your dream.”

The doctor put the pin light away and placed a stethoscope to Lass’s chest. Once she’d listened to her satisfaction, then hung the instrument back around her neck, Lass asked, “What about the rest of my memory? I keep working my mind, trying to think past last night. I can’t.”

The doctor gently patted her shoulder. “I’m hopeful that once the swelling in your brain starts to recede and everything begins to heal itself, your memory will return. But in the meantime, I’m going to have a specialist come in this afternoon and speak with you.”

“A specialist?” Lass asked warily. “What kind of specialist?”

Dr. Donovan’s smile was meant to be reassuring. “A psychiatrist.”

Lass stared at her in horror. “Do you…think I’m crazy? Oh, God, I never thought about that! I might have been institutionalized and wandered away. Maybe I hurt someone and they put me away! I—”

With each word that passed her lips, Lass grew more and more agitated.

“Lass,” the doctor said gently. “You need to stop this. I can assure you that no one here has detected any sort of mental illness. The psychiatrist will simply talk to you and perhaps help coax some of your memories to return. That’s all.”

Lass’s shoulders slumped with relief. She didn’t know why her thoughts kept running toward such negative speculations. Had she been in some sort of trouble? Criminal trouble?

What a stupid question, Lass. Trouble might as well be written across your forehead. Anyone who’s found on the
side of the road with a head bashed is bound to be connected to some sort of trouble. What do you think you were doing out there in the mountains in the middle of the night? Admiring the wildflowers?

Swallowing, she forced the troubling questions aside and tried to focus on the doctor. “So—how much longer will I have to be in the hospital?” she asked.

“If no complications pop up, I’ll be releasing you tomorrow.” Dr. Donovan smiled with encouragement. “As for this morning, the nurses are going to come in and help you shower and dress. And if you’re steady enough on your feet, you can move around somewhat. But I don’t want you overdoing it, okay?”

Lass agreed and the doctor continued to give her a few more orders before she finally said goodbye and left the room.

Once she was gone, Lass let out a heavy sigh as her gaze surveyed her surroundings. For the moment, the small, stark room was her home. But tomorrow she’d be leaving. To where? Where was her home? Oh, God, if she only knew.

L
ater that afternoon while Hank questioned workers at the racetrack, Brady drove to the hospital to check on Lass. From the report Bridget had given him earlier this morning, the young woman’s memory was still a blank. But he was hoping each hour that passed would bring her closer to recalling her identity and, moreover, what had happened to her the night before.

On the second floor, he stepped off the elevator and turned right in the direction of Lass’s room, but before he could get past the nurse’s desk, a young woman with long brown hair wrapped in a knot atop her head waved and called to him.

“Hey, Brady! Are you going to the concert next weekend at the rodeo arena?”

He paused as the nurse came rushing up to him. Miranda was a sweet girl he’d once dated a few times, but it had
quickly become obvious to both of them that she’d wanted more than just a good time together. Thankfully, she’d understood that he wasn’t looking for a permanent partner and they’d parted on friendly terms.

He shook his head. “Not unless I have to provide security. And right now the city police are planning on handling it.”

With Lass’s case thrown on his plate, he wasn’t going to have much free time in the coming days. Unless, she miraculously recovered, or someone showed up to identify her.

“Guess you’re busy with the Jane Doe thing,” she commented. “I think I ought to tell you that most of the hospital stopped by to see her. We’d been hoping someone would recognize her, but nobody does.”

“Thanks for letting me know, Miranda. I appreciate the attempt.”

Miranda grimaced with regret. “Poor thing. And she’s so pretty, too. What will happen to her? I mean, if she doesn’t remember? I guess she’ll have to go to one of those shelters.” Miranda shuddered with distaste. “Maybe you’ll figure it out, Brady, before that happens.”

He nodded and she quickly excused herself as the phone on the nurse’s desk began to shrill loudly. Brady hurried on to Lass’s room and as he went, Miranda’s suggestion plagued him. To think of Lass thrown in a rescue mission or a shelter for battered women sickened him. And whether she remembered or not, he couldn’t let it happen.

After a short knock on her door, he stepped inside the room and was pleasantly surprised to find her dressed and sitting in a cushioned chair positioned near the room’s only window.

“Well, you look much better than the last time I saw you,” he greeted. “How are you feeling?”

She was wearing the clothes he’d found her in and though they were smudged with dirt in spots, they made her look far more normal than the hideous hospital gown. Her long hair had been pulled back from her face and fastened at her nape with a rubber band. The style exposed her swollen eye yet at the same time revealed the long, lovely line of her neck.

“Stronger,” she answered. “And my head doesn’t hurt nearly as much.”

He moved across the room, then stopped a couple of feet from her chair. The late afternoon sun slanted a golden ray across her lap and cast a sheen to her crow-black hair. Except for her cheeks, her skin was as pale as milk and he found himself tempering the urge to reach over and touch it, test its softness with the pads of his fingers.

Clearing his throat, he said, “That’s good. Bridget says you’re on the mend.”

Her features tightened. “Did she also tell you that she sent a psychiatrist to talk with me?”

Brady looked at her in surprise. “No. But I’m glad. I told her to help you in every way that she could. Obviously she’s not going to leave any stone unturned.” He took a seat on the edge of the narrow bed. “So what did the psychiatrist have to say?”

She rubbed her hands nervously down the thighs of her jeans. “Well, that I’m not crazy or anything like that.”

Brady grinned. “I could have told you that much.”

She darted a sober glance at him. “He also said that I might not be remembering because I’m afraid to remember.”

Folding his arms against his chest, Brady studied her with interest. “Like a psychosomatic thing,” he said.

Her brows arched with surprise. “Why, yes. How did you know that? Have you studied medicine, too?”

Brady chuckled. “No. I left that to my sisters. I’m a lawman. I study human characters. And believe me, seeing people under stress and in trouble makes for a good psychology class.”

Dropping her head, she let out a heavy breath. “Well, I’ve not remembered anything. Unless you count the dream I had. And that didn’t tell me much. Except that I was running in the dark and whatever was behind me was scaring the living daylights out of me.” She looked up at him, her expression twisted with something close to agony. “Your sister says she’s going to release me from the hospital tomorrow. What does that mean, Deputy Donovan? What will happen to me then?”

He swiftly shook his head. “I’d be pleased if you’d call me Brady. And don’t worry—we’ll find some place nice for you to stay until we can get a fix on where you really belong.”

Suddenly it dawned on him that she had nothing but the clothes on her back. No handbag with all the little necessities women carried with them. No cell phone filled with numbers of friends and family that she might call for help. No credit cards or checkbook or any sort of means to provide for herself. She was totally dependent and, at the moment, looking straight at him for answers.

She didn’t make any sort of reply to his comment and Brady figured there wasn’t much she could say. She was at the mercy of the county and what it could provide for her. Unless he stepped in, he thought, as his mind suddenly jumped forward. Since his older sister, Maura, had married Quint Cantrell, her room had become empty. Brady’s home, the Diamond D Ranch, was a huge place with plenty of space for a guest. What would his family think if he showed up with Lass? He and his sister Dallas had always been guilty of picking up strays that needed a home. Well,
Lass was no different, he rationalized. She needed a home in the worst kind of way.

“Thank you, Brady. I guess…Well, you know the old saying—beggars can’t be choosers. I’m obviously in that position now.”

Changing the subject for the moment, he suddenly asked, “Did someone from the sheriff’s department come by to take your picture?”

She nodded. “Yes. A lady. She said you were going to be putting it on posters around town and posting it on the Internet.”

“That’s right. We also plan to put it in the area papers. See if that will turn up any leads. But in the meantime, you’ll need some help. A place to stay, clothes and things like that. I’m thinking—” His gaze zeroed in on hers. “How would you feel about staying at my home? Until we get your problem worked out?”

Her gray eyes narrowed with something like mistrust. “I don’t understand. I’m not your responsibility. I mean, I know that you and your partner are the ones who found me, but that doesn’t mean—”

She broke off as he quickly shook his head. “Look, Lass, I’ll be frank. I don’t think you’d much like living in a shelter. You wouldn’t have much privacy and some of the women there—they’re dealing with some pretty bad problems.”

Her lips quivered. “And I’m not?”

He tried to give her the same sort of smile Brady’s mother gave him when he was fretting over an issue that was beyond his control. “As of right now, Lass, the only problem we’re certain that you have is amnesia. And the way I see it, you could’ve had a whole lot worse things happen to you.”

“Maybe I did. And we just don’t know. Maybe I’d bring
trouble to your family and—” Her words abruptly trailing off, she shook her head and rose slowly from her chair. “I don’t want to be a burden or a…problem. Thank you for your kind offer, Brady, but I can’t accept.”

Feeling ridiculously squashed, he watched her move to the window and stare out at the small manicured lawn at the back of the building. To one side of the grassy area, a patio had been constructed and offered a group of comfortable lawn chairs to visitors who needed a break from the confines of a sterile hospital room.

At the moment a young woman with two small children in hand was strolling among the potted desert plants that adorned the patio. Lass appeared to be focused on the sight of the playful youngsters and Brady wondered if she might have children of her own, children that were missing their mother. For some reason he didn’t like the image of her being a mother, or a wife. And yet, he realized that if she did have a family waiting for her somewhere, she needed to get back to them as quickly as possible. More importantly, it was his job to see that she was reunited with her loved ones.

“I assure you, Lass, you’re not going to cause trouble. And even if you did, we Donovans know how to deal with trouble. Besides, you being on the ranch would be a big help to me.”

A frown puckered her forehead as she pulled her attention away from the children and over to him. “Really? How is that?”

“Well, until we discover your identity, you’re going to have to keep in close contact with the sheriff’s department. Since I’m in charge of your case that means me. And having you on the Diamond D will make it convenient for the two of us to work together.”

“The Diamond D,” she repeated thoughtfully. “I think I recall you saying last night that you lived on a ranch. Your family raises cattle?”

“Horses,” he explained. “Racehorses.”

“Oh.” The frown on her face deepened. “What do you do with racehorses around here? The nurses tell me that this is a relatively small town. Most of the major tracks are on the east and west coasts.”

Rising from the bed, he joined her at the window. As he rested his hip on the wide seal, he studied her keenly. “If you remember such things as that, then apparently a part of your memory is working. As for our horses, we—or I should say my brother Liam—hauls them cross-country to race. But Ruidoso has a track and it’s becoming significant in its own right. It’s the home of the Million Dollar Futurity that takes place every Labor Day.”

“I see,” she murmured, then thoughtfully shook her head. “I wonder why I knew about the major tracks? Perhaps I’m connected to the business in some way. But I’m…only guessing. It’s just a feeling I have. Not a memory.”

Brady’s mind was leaping in all direction as he attempted to connect what dots he had. “I don’t know if this means anything, Lass, but one of the deputies found a wagering ticket from Ruidoso Downs not far from where you were found. The track, betting, horses—do any of those things ring a bell?”

She stared out the window for long moments, then with a groan of defeat, pressed a hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry, Brady. When I try to think of anything personal, it’s all a blank. And the harder I try to think, the more my head aches.”

“Then don’t try to think,” he urged with concern. “Bridget would have my hide if she found out I’m making your condition worse.”

Quickly, as though to reassure him, she reached out and touched his arm. “It’s not your fault. Please don’t think so. You’re only trying to help me.”

The touch of her hand on his bare forearm was as light as a butterfly and though her fingers were cool, Brady’s reaction was just the opposite. Heat flowed along his arm as though he’d been touched by a torch, and for a moment he was lost for words, lost in the gray depths of her sad eyes.

“Don’t worry about me, Lass. I’ve got a thick hide.” At least, he’d believed he was tough-skinned, until she’d touched him. Dear Lord, he had to get out of here before he did something totally unprofessional. Like gather her into his arms and cuddle her against his chest. “And right now I have to get back to work.”

Unable to tear his eyes away from her, he began to move backward toward the door.

“What about tomorrow?” she asked in bewilderment.

He flashed a smile. “Bridget will let me know when to be here to pick you up.”

“But I—”

Placing a finger against his lips, he said, “I promise, my folks will be thrilled to have you.”

And so would he, Brady silently admitted. But how long would it be before the thrill turned into a problem? Before good intentions turned bad?

Brady wasn’t going to let himself think about those questions. Right now Lass needed him. And that was all that mattered.

The next morning Brady had been at his desk for over an hour when Sheriff Hamilton arrived at work. As the tall, dark-haired man sauntered through Brady’s small work area, he stopped in his tracks and stared at his chief deputy.

“It’s not even daylight yet. What are you doing here?”

Brady glanced up from his computer screen. Ethan Hamilton was a big man in stature and presence and held a lifelong connection to the area he served. Eleven years ago, when Roy Pardee had retired, Ethan had stepped into a pair of mighty big boots. Roy had been loved and revered, a living legend as far as citizens of the county were concerned and being the man’s nephew had only made it harder for Ethan to prove himself. Down through the years he’d done that and more. He’d married the county judge, Penelope Parker, and they were now raising twin sons, Jake and Jase.

“I could say the same about you.” Even though Ethan was clearly the boss, the two men were longtime friends and they conversed as such. Now Brady swiveled the rolling chair away from the desk and stood facing the sheriff. “Is something going on with you?”

“Penny’s still feeling puny and she was up early,” Ethan explained. “Once she gets up, I can’t sleep.”

“Again? Maybe you should take her to a doctor. See what’s wrong with the woman,” Brady suggested.

A slow smile spread across the sheriff’s face. “I don’t need to. She went to the doctor yesterday and he assured her everything would get back to normal—in seven months. Or as normal as it can be with another baby in the house.”

Brady was stunned. Ethan and Penny’s twins were nearly twelve years old. After all this time, he’d never figured the couple wanting more children. “Penny is…pregnant?”

“Yeah,” he said with a beaming smile. “Isn’t it great? We’d been wanting more children for a long time, but she’s had health issues. Her having the twins was a miracle, so we figured it would be a second miracle if
she could get pregnant again. We’d almost given up, but now it’s happened and the doc says everything is going along fine.”