“She doesn’t remember.”
“What do you mean she doesn’t remember?”
“She doesn’t remember,” Cruz said again. “She doesn’t remember anything.” He glanced down at Marcy, then back to Joe. “What we have here is a case of amnesia.”
Chapter 2
“Good morning, Miss Rain.”
The voice came from out of the darkness, sounding bright and sunny and safe. It reached down into the shadows like a hand extending out to her and she felt herself struggling, felt herself reaching. She wanted that hand, wanted up and out of the gloom.
“Rise and shine, it’s not raining this morning. Maybe we should call you Sunshine now.”
Suddenly her head was filled with sound and shafts of light pierced the layers of her eyelids, obliterating the darkness and sending the nightmare to the back of her brain. Thank God, it had been a dream. It all had been just a terrible dream.
“Come on now, sleepyhead, open up those eyes. Breakfast is being served. We’ve got to get you fed and down to the lab for a whole pack of tests the doctor has planned for you. Come on now, wake up. I know you wouldn’t want to miss any of the fun.”
Noise and light assaulted her, making her forget about panic and fear. She welcomed the chaos, welcomed the voice that coaxed her awake. She wanted to open her eyes and have her world made right again.
“What do we have here? Ah yes, oatmeal—nice and lumpy—our kitchen’s specialty. Come on now, Miss Rain. Let me see those eyes open.”
The light was blinding at first, painful and unyielding against eyes accustomed only to darkness. Still, it felt warm and comforting against her skin. There was a moment when it seemed that her eyes had forgotten how to function, when she could make out nothing of what she saw and the world was reduced to indistinguishable, unrecognizable blurred images. However, slowly those blurry, distorted images came into focus and she found herself looking into a face that looked as kind and as friendly as its voice sounded.
“Atta girl. Let’s see those…” The voice drifted off as she leaned in for a closer look. “Looks like there might be some blue in there. Open them up darlin’. Let’s get a good look at those baby blues.”
Her throat felt raw and coarse and she thought of how small and lost her screams had sounded in the desert.
And then she remembered. She may be waking up, but the nightmare wasn’t over—and for a moment, panic put a stranglehold on her throat.
“Wh-where am I?”
“You’re in Mesa County General Hospital. Do you remember talking to the doctor last night?”
Jumbled, confused images of people and faces flashed suddenly into her brain and she remembered waking up to noise and confusion. How frightening it had been to wake up and find herself being poked and prodded by strangers, but at least she’d been out of the desert, at least she hadn’t been alone.
“He asked questions,” she croaked, lifting a hand to her throat. The words hurt. “He gave me a shot.”
“Something to help you rest,” the woman said. “But there’s no time to sleep now. Let’s get some food in you and get you down to the lab or Dr. Martinez is going to have my head on a platter.”
“I—I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember? You mean, talking to the doctor?”
She shook her head, pain radiating as dread rose up from her belly like a wave on the shore. “You—you don’t understand. I don’t remember anything.”
“When you’re ready you will,” the woman said breezily, maneuvering the control switch along the bed frame and raising the back of the bed. “And these tests may help.”
“Tests?” It was only then that she realized the woman was wearing a nurse’s uniform. “They’ll help me remember?”
“Well, not the tests themselves,” the nurse qualified. “But they’ll help the doctor know just what’s going on inside that pretty head of yours.”
“I—I don’t remember how…” she stammered, wincing as her hand brushed the hair along the back of her head. “I don’t know how that bump on my head happened, either.”
“Try not to think about all that too much right now,” the nurse advised. “It’s not going to help if you’re upset.” She propped the pillows. “Now come on, Rain. Eat your breakfast.”
She looked down at the food in front of her, the smell triggering a violent reaction in her stomach. “I—I’m not hungry.”
“Too bad,” the nurse said with a wry sigh, picking up the spoon and shoving it into her hand. “Hunger usually makes this stuff go down a little easier. Come on now, be a good girl. Dig in.”
She looked down at the spoon in her hand and then to the food on the tray. Everything in her system wanted to revolt, wanted to protest the sight and the aroma of the food. It was as if she’d left the nightmare only to awaken into a surreal dream. She was sitting in this strange place looking at food she didn’t want and having no idea how she got there. Slowly, she lowered the spoon to the tray and pushed it away.
“You called me something,” she said, falling back against the pillows. “Rain? Do you know me? Is that my name?”
The nurse shook her head, sliding the tray back into place. “No, sweetheart, I’m afraid I don’t know.” She picked up the spoon and scooped it full of oatmeal. “We’ve been calling you Rain. That’s what Sheriff Mountain called you.”
“Sheriff Mountain?”
The nurse nodded. “He brought you in last night.” She lifted the spoon. “He’s the one who found you wandering around out there.”
“Sheriff Mountain,” she murmured, remembering the headlights of a car, remembering a tall, dark, shadowy figure stepping in front of them and remembering a soft voice and strong arms that felt warm and secure.
“Would you prefer I call you something else?”
She looked up at the nurse. Rain. She liked the name, liked the sound of it. It didn’t make her think of the freezing, pelting rain but rather the strong arms that brought her rescue and warmth.
Her name was Rain. Knowing that made her feel better, made her feel less afraid. With a name, she was a real person. With a name, she had something to hold on to.
She squeezed her eyes tight, feeling the panic rise from the depths again. Who was she really? Where did she come from? What had happened to her and why?
“No,” she mumbled, opening her eyes. “Rain’s fine.”
“Okay then, Rain,” the nurse coaxed with the spoonful of oatmeal. “Just a little.”
Rain looked at the oatmeal and felt her stomach roll. In the long list of things she couldn’t remember, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, either. Gingerly, she opened her mouth.
“Good girl,” the nurse commended as she watched Rain take a bite. “That doesn’t taste too awfully bad, now does it?”
A warm, rich flavor filled her senses and Rain reached for the spoon, shoveling in another mouthful. It was delicious.
“Want me to pour you a glass of milk?” the nurse asked.
Rain nodded, gobbling up another bite. “You said this was Mesa County General Hospital?” The nurse nodded as she poured milk from a small carton and into a glass on the tray. “Where’s that?”
“Mesa Ridge. In Nevada,” the nurse said, walking to the door and pulling a wheelchair