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Jonathan squeezed her hand
“You’re safe here. The police will find the person who attacked you.”
Panic screamed through her aching body. She knew she could trust him, but not all those other people—the police, the family. She couldn’t fit them into the puzzle that was her life, no matter how hard she tried.
An awakening instinct warned her to hide her fear. Maybe the emptiness inside her would fill up with all the pieces she needed. Until then she was alone.
She balled both her hands into fists. She had to try to explain.
“I’m afraid because…because I can’t remember anything. About myself. About my past.”
She unfurled one fist, her fingers desperately searching out his as she willed him to understand.
“The only memory I have is you.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lynn Leslie is the pen name of the dynamic writing team of sisters-in-law Sherrill “Lynn” Bodine and Elaine “Leslie” Sima. Both women have been writing for most of their lives and are avid researchers, a skill that is evident in all their novels.
Both women love to travel and are involved in various social-service groups in their communities. They also love to spend time with their families, who reside in the Chicago area.
The Other Amanda
Lynn Leslie
To Dr. Marc Simeon Karlan.
Thank you for your expertise— you gave us exactly what we needed!
With special thanks to Dr. Steven E. Rolhke and to Sue and Norm Westerhold for all those great weekends in northern Wisconsin.
PROLOGUE
ACROSS THE PARK the moon, like a giant red beach ball just above Lake Michigan, beckoned her into the night. Surely it would be cooler by the water. Here, under the Majestic Hotel marquee, the combination of good old Windy City summer humidity and hot lights made her skin feel clammy.
She flicked open her compact to examine her carefully made-up face. Blush highlighted her cheekbones, accentuating the hollows in her face. Her lips were pale and glossy but her eyes looked tired. And frightened. She stretched her lids so her mascaraed lashes nearly brushed her brows and smiled experimentally.
There, that looked better. No one but she would notice the tiny glimmer of anxiety that lingered.
Somehow, some way, she had to change her life.
Holding that thought, she dropped the compact back into her evening bag, waved at the doorman and started across the street toward the lake.
The park grass felt like a slippery cushion under her feet. She slowed her pace to avoid catching her heels. She couldn’t be late for this appointment, but she didn’t want to arrive with a run in her stockings or grass stains on her dress.
When she was halfway through the park, she noticed that the moon had risen high over the lake and dimmed to a pale glow. It seemed as if all the lights in the world had gone out. Where a moment before she had seen park benches and a children’s playground to her left, everything now lay in shadow.
Suddenly, out of the darkness something hurled itself against her legs. A scream tore from her throat, and she swayed for balance before she realized it was a small white poodle dragging a leash.
Relief flooded through her. Abnormal relief. Overwhelming relief. She leaned over to pet the furry animal licking her leg, laughing nervously at the absurdity of her fears.
“Hi there, guy. Where’s your owner?”
“Ralphie! Ralphie, stop jumping on the pretty lady!” An elderly woman, her face flushed, rushed up to grab the leash with trembling fingers. “I’m so sorry. The naughty boy got away from me again,” she gasped.
“That’s all right. No harm done.” She straightened while watching the