Identity Unknown (4 page)

He cocked his head, groping his mind for information. “Yes, sort of. I know I've seen it, but I can't recall where or when.” And it was so maddening. He wanted to howl with frustration.

“Give it time,” she said as the light in her eyes turned slightly to disappointment. “You heard my mom. Bits and pieces.”

“Right.” He had a feeling patience wasn't a strong suit of his, but he really didn't know. He opened one of the bags and glanced inside. A pile of dark material pooled in the bottom. Then he looked at the pretty deputy and arched an eyebrow.

“I'll wait outside.” Audrey's cheeks pinkened as she walked out.

* * *

Audrey hesitated outside John Doe's hospital room door and tried to calm the flutter in her stomach. So many thoughts and feelings were swirling through her at the moment. Empathy for John Doe. She couldn't imagine losing her memories of her father, her childhood, her life. She could only imagine how bleak and desperate the man must be feeling. Not to mention the pain that seemed to hit him every time he tried to remember.

Then there was the embarrassment of having her mother and John witness the acrimony between her and her great-uncle. She usually did a better job of refraining from showing her emotions in public.

She could only attribute her lack of control to the strange and forceful reactions that flared within her the moment John awoke. Beyond empathy, she felt an intense protectiveness, which had manifested in her strong defense of him. A part of her knew it was logical for the sheriff to take the man into custody, but putting him behind bars without any proof of wrongdoing didn't sit well with her sense of justice.

Hopefully John would soon regain his memories and they could figure out the truth behind what, who and why someone was trying to kill him.

* * *

Left alone, John withdrew his clothes and boots from the bags and stared at them for a long moment. He didn't remember putting these on. Why was he dressed all in black? For nefarious purposes?

He was thankful the garments were dry as he quickly donned the cargo pants, turtleneck and socks but struggled with the boots. Finally, giving up, he padded to the door and stuck his head out. Audrey and her great-uncle stood near the nurses' station. The brunette noticed him first and hurried toward him. He tried not to grimace as he held up his hand. “Can you ask Deputy Martin to come here?”

Nurse Sarah pursed her lips, clearly miffed by his request for someone other than her. “Sure.” She walked back to the desk and spoke to Audrey, who nodded and headed his way.

“You need me?”

He did. For reasons he couldn't explain she grounded him, anchored him to the moment. When he looked at her, thought about her, he only felt peace, comfort. Strange, considering she'd said they'd only just met. Again that niggling feeing she was keeping a secret from him itched, demanding to be scratched. He let it go, confident he'd get her to open up and tell him. Where that confidence came from, he didn't know. “I need help with the boots. Bending over to undo the laces is more than I can take right now.”

One honey-blond eyebrow arched. “All right.”

She crouched and undid the laces on the right boot and held it out for him to slip his foot into. He watched as her slender and capable hands quickly cinched up the laces and tied the boot snugly.

After the left boot was on, he stood. The world tilted.

He swayed. Audrey wrapped an arm around his waist and drew him close to her side. If he weren't feeling a bit woozy, he'd have leaned in for a kiss.

He frowned at the thought. Okay, he found Audrey attractive and had some strange connection to her that he didn't understand, but he'd better keep his emotions in check. He could be married. And he doubted the deputy would appreciate him taking advantage of the situation.

Was he a man that took advantage? He prayed not. Which led to another question—was he a man that prayed?

He hated not knowing who he was.

Some part of his brain said to let go of the past and become who he wanted to be for the future. But that wasn't really a possibility. Not when there was someone out there willing to hurt other people to end his life.

He knew deep inside, with a certainty he couldn't deny, he had a responsibility to uncover the truth and to protect those around him.

But he dreaded what the cost would be. He hoped and prayed it wouldn't be the life of the deputy at his side.

FOUR

S
itting in the passenger seat of Deputy Martin's car, John stared at the passing scenery, taking in the quaint and rustic town. The overcast sky washed the world in a gray light. Signs of recent snow collected on awnings and sidewalk gutters. Colorfully painted buildings added cheeriness. Had he seen this village before? If so, had he liked it the way he did now?

There were the usual businesses one would find in any town—a bank, a law firm and a real estate office—but the picturesque storefronts didn't boast any recognizable brand names. Instead, there were places like Melinda's Bakery, the Java Bean, Ted's Fill and Eat.

They passed an Irish pub, numerous fish houses and an art gallery with the name Maine Inspired displaying blown-glass art and paintings in the window. His gaze snagged on the exercise studio advertising dance and fitness classes. He wondered if they had a treadmill and free weights. The need to pump some iron sent nervous energy rippling through him.

“This is a nice place,” he commented. Despite the threat stalking him, he felt comfortable in this town. Why was that?

“It's quiet at this time of year,” Audrey said. “In spring the tourists start showing up and don't fully vacate until after Oktoberfest. We have tons of festivals throughout the tourist months. Anything to drive up business to sustain us through the lean season. After Christmas most of the shops and restaurants close for vacations. Some people head to a warmer climate. Others hunker down and wait out the weather.”

“What do you do?”

“My job.” She lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. “Though the sheriff insists we all take some vacation, so we rotate through, each taking a week off. Sometimes I stick around to catch up on reading or binge watch movies.”

That sounded good to him. “And other times?”

“A warm beach with warm water.”

Sun and sand. That sounded good to him. “I could go for a hot day in the Caribbean about now.”

She slanted him a glance. “You've been?”

He could picture crystal clear waters, beaches that stretched for miles and sea turtles swimming just below the surface. Memories? Or data stored in his brain from flipping through a travel magazine?

Frustration beat a steady rhythm behind his forehead. “Don't know.”

There weren't many pedestrians out on the main street running through the holiday-decorated town. He wondered where he'd be spending Christmas if he hadn't nearly been fish bait. “It's peaceful today.”

“Yes. Yesterday's events were very dramatic for our town. Most people are staying off the streets.”

A rush of guilt swamped him. “I'm sorry about that. Sorry I washed up on your shore and brought danger to your community.”

Audrey brought her patrol car to a halt outside a restaurant called Franny O'Flannery's. She looked him in the eye. “I'm not. The alternative would mean you were dead.”

Her words poked at him, reminding him how close he had come to death. And thanks to this woman, he was still here. He unbuckled and put his hand on the door handle.

“Nope,” Audrey said. “Stay put. Fran will bring our order to us.”

“Curbside service?” he remarked, studying her. Normal or had the deputy asked Fran for the courtesy?

“Perks of a small town. Here we go,” she said just as a knock on the window jarred his attention away from her face.

An older woman bent down to peer inside the cruiser. Her lined face was a wreath of smiles and her dark blue eyes regarded him with curiosity. He hit the button on the door panel, and the window slid silently down. A rush of cold air hit him in the face, along with the briny smells of the ocean. But he also caught the aroma of fried food, and his hunger returned with a vengeance.

“Morning, Fran.” Audrey leaned over him to talk to the woman at the window, bringing with her a whiff of apple shampoo.

His stomach muscles contracted. His hand tightened around the door handle to keep from reaching up to touch her golden hair.

“Good morning, Audrey,” Fran returned. “I see you have a guest.”

“Indeed I do,” Audrey replied. “This is John. John, Fran O'Flannery. She makes the best crab cakes in the whole state.”

Fran grinned. “I don't know about that, but they are popular. Welcome to Calico Bay, John. Are you here on business—” the woman slanted an assessing glance at Audrey “—or pleasure?”

For some odd reason, heat infused his cheeks. Clearly Fran wondered if there was something going on between him and the pretty deputy. “I'm not sure.” What business would he have had been doing dressed as a commando wannabe?

“How much do I owe you?” Audrey said before straightening.

Fran handed him the large bag of food. The delicious smells made his insides cramp and his mouth salivate.

“I'll put it on your tab. You can swing by later to settle up.”

“Much obliged, Fran,” Audrey said. “Give Don my regards.”

“Will do. Stay safe.” Fran walked back into the restaurant.

“That was nice of her to let you pay later,” John commented.

“Yeah, well, she knows where I live.” Audrey started up the car and continued to the sheriff's station, a square white building with the fire department on one side and a large steepled church on the other. Audrey parked in front and led him inside, through a lobby where a woman sat behind a Plexiglas window. She waved at Audrey and eyed him with wariness.

John didn't blame the woman. None of them knew what he was capable of, including him. Was he a criminal? He certainly had an element of danger dogging him.

They walked down a hallway with walls decorated with photos of the town. Summer scenes depicted smiling children at a fair. There were pictures of fishing boats with proud fishermen mugging for the camera. The gallery of photos filled him with a strange longing. Was there some place where he belonged? Did he have a community where people knew him? Loved him?

At the end of the hall, Audrey opened a door to a large squad room. A dozen desks, separated by short partition walls, formed a mazelike pattern stretching all the way to the back wall, ending at the closed office door with the sheriff's nameplate. Only four people sat at their desks. They stopped what they were doing to stare at him. He studied each face for a moment but felt no sense of recognition.

Audrey stopped at her desk. He knew it was hers by the collage of photos on her partition. Pictures of her mother and a man he assumed was her father. A family photo with a preteen Audrey, her hair plaited in braids, standing in front of a fishing boat named
Audrey
. A younger adult version of Audrey in a cap and gown. College? Then her in full uniform at her academy graduation.

She pulled a vacant chair over. “Here. Have a seat.”

He'd expected her to take him straight to a cell. “Thanks.”

She laid out their lunch of crab cakes, tater tots and coleslaw on her desk then took her seat. She bowed her head for a moment, her lips moving silently. Something inside his chest loosened. He followed her example and bowed his head. Lifted up a silent plea.
Lord, bless this food to my body. Heal me. Heal my mind. Amen.

The crab cakes were as delicious as advertised. “I can't imagine having anything taste better than this.”

Audrey wiped her mouth with a napkin before replying. “Right. I'm telling you, Fran's is the best. Her recipe has won awards.”

“Tell me about you.” He picked up a bottle of water that Fran had also supplied.

“Me?” She shook her head. “Not much to tell.”

“Are you married? Kids?” He didn't think so, since there were no photos of her with a man or child, but it felt normal to ask, like something he'd do in his life prior to waking up in the hospital.

Her gaze collided with his. “No to both. What about you?”

His mouth twisted in a rueful grimace. “I wish I knew. You'd think if I were married, if I had a family waiting for me that would be something I'd remember.”

“Unless you wanted to forget.”

He considered her words. His pulse ticked up a notch. “Maybe that's why I can't remember my past. There's something I want to forget.”

“Being hit over the head and thrown in the ocean are traumatic events. Your brain may be protecting you.”

“I don't want to be protected. I want to remember.” He picked up a tater tot. But his appetite fled.

He hated this not knowing. He had a horrible feeling that something bad was happening, or was going to happen, and he needed to stop whatever it was as soon as possible. Considering there was an assassin trying to kill him, his sense of doom was understandable. But there was something else dancing at the periphery of his mind. Yet when he tried to lock on to the thought, a sharp pain was his reward.

Fatigue dragged at him. He could barely keep his eyes open. “Thank you for lunch, Deputy Martin.”

“You're welcome.” She canted her head. “You look wrung out. The cell has a cot that I've heard is pretty comfortable.”

That comment elicited a smile. “Critiques from past residents?”

She returned his smile. “Something like that.”

He liked her smile. It made her blue eyes light up. His gaze drifted down her straight nose to her lush, full lips. He noticed the slight cleft in her chin that gave her face character.

She rose and held out her hand. “Come on, I'll show where you'll be spending the next few hours.”

He stared at her smooth skin and long, slender fingers before grasping her hand. Her fingers closed around his, and she tugged him to his feet. She was surprisingly strong, yet her hand felt almost delicate within his clasp. The dichotomy left him unnerved. He braced his feet apart. The room momentarily swerved then righted itself. Expecting her to let go, he loosened his hold, but for a fraction of a second she held on, her gaze fixated on their joined hands. Then she yanked her hand back and rested it on her utility belt. “This way.” She turned and walked briskly away.

He rolled the tension from his shoulders and followed her.

The cell wasn't big by any means, but it was roomy enough and thankfully empty. He didn't relish the idea of sharing the space.

Audrey opened the door. “Sorry about this.”

“Don't be.” He stepped inside. “This is the safest place for me. No one can get hurt with me in here, and I'll be able to rest without worry.”

“I guess.” But she didn't sound convinced. That was sweet. He liked that she was upset on his behalf. He wondered if anyone else had ever been upset on his behalf and if so, who?

Needing to reassure her, he moved closer and reached out to tuck a stray strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Are you always so accommodating with your guests?”

“No. But these circumstances are a bit out of the ordinary.”

His finger skimmed over her jaw before he dropped his hand. “I appreciate all you're doing for me. You're a very caring person, Deputy Martin.”

He liked the way her cheeks took on a rosy color. “Audrey.”

A grin tugged at his mouth. “Okay. Audrey. Such a pretty name for a pretty woman.”

Her eyes widened a fraction, then something cold flashed in her gaze and she stepped back. “And you're charming. A flirt.”

Wary that he'd offended her, he said, “You say that like it's a bad thing.”

“It's been my experience that charming men aren't to be trusted.”

Had the man who hurt her been a boyfriend? “Don't paint every man with the same brush as whoever hurt you.”

She made a wry sound in her throat. “Easy for you to say. I don't know you. I don't know if I should trust you.”

“But you want to,” he observed, realizing how badly he wanted her to trust him. “Otherwise you wouldn't have shared your lunch with me. You wouldn't feel so bad for locking me up.”

She frowned and pressed her lips into a straight line. He much preferred when she smiled.

“It's okay,” he told her. “You shouldn't trust me. I wouldn't trust me.”

“I want to release your photo to the media. See if someone comes forward to identify you.”

“You should. I'm guessing you already ran my prints and face through your databases.”

“Yes, with no results.”

He wasn't sure if that was reassuring or more alarming. The thumping in his head intensified. His energy waned. He needed to sit before he fell down. But he didn't want her to leave, which was exactly why he said, “I'm sure you have work to do. And I really need to rest.”

She nodded. “I do. I'll be checking on you every two hours.”

“I look forward to it.”

Without a word, she closed the cell door with a deafening click that echoed in his ears long after she walked away.

* * *

Night came faster than Audrey would have imagined, despite the fact that December in Maine the sun set around four in the afternoon. She switched on her desk lamp because the dim overhead lights weren't bright enough for her. The station was quiet. Only a few deputies were at their desks. The sheriff had come and gone, promising he'd be back to relieve her of guard duty for John Doe. She was surprised the sheriff didn't squawk at the overtime she was accruing.

She'd spent the day doing paperwork that had stacked up over the past few weeks. Though she had trouble concentrating on vandalism of the local middle school or Mrs. Keel's runaway cat.

Audrey kept replaying John's words.

Such a pretty name for a pretty woman.

She wasn't sure why his compliment had affected her. Maybe because the first time he saw her he'd thought she was beautiful, like a Christmas ornament. She'd chalked his flirting up to his injury. But earlier he'd been lucid. She didn't trust his flattering words. He was one of those types of men who used their good looks and charisma to their advantage. He might not be able remember his name and his past, but he certainly remembered how to use his charm.