He paused. “Are they bothering you? If you want me to ban them from your room, I will.”
She shook her head and the little movement brought on a twinge of vertigo. She closed her eyes, letting the moment of dizziness pass before she spoke again. “No. They’re trying to protect my feelings, so they won’t answer my questions. But that doesn’t help me when I know someone is trying to kill me. Or that I was found in a tunnel beneath the border, with a cache of drugs. They all seem to think I’m innocent, but...”
Dr. Hull waited, not rushing or pushing for a response. That, more than anything, gave her the courage to say what she really felt. “No matter how kind they are, that sounds guilty to me.”
“Is that how you feel—guilty?” He turned her head to the side, gently examining the bruise and swelling at the base of her skull.
Did she feel guilty? So many emotions swirled inside of her. Confusion. Anger. Fear. Mostly fear...of the unknown...of men she couldn’t remember trying to kill her. And now fear of not ever remembering. Of disappointing all of those very nice people outside her room.
They all seemed to care so much about her, and she couldn’t remember their names. As kind as they were, they seemed to want...need confirmation from her that she was innocent. Confirmation she couldn’t give them.
The only one who didn’t make her feel that way was Dylan. He didn’t seem to have expectations. At least not the same hopeful kind she sensed in everyone else. He made her feel like the truth was as important to him as it was to her.
The doctor’s gentle fingers touched a particularly tender spot and she winced.
“Still pretty sore there, I take it.”
She looked up to meet his gaze. “They all know so much about me and I know nothing.”
“You need to give yourself a break. You had a serious head injury and you’ve only been cognizant for a short while. Besides you know more than you think.”
“Like what?”
“Well, you know you heal quickly.”
She directed a frown in his direction.
“I’m not just placating you. Think about what you know instead of what you don’t. You’re very healthy and strong-willed. That’s apparent.”
That comment made a small wry twist slide over her lips. “I take it I haven’t been the best patient.”
The doctor’s lips lifted. “You’re impatient and you have a strong sense of right and wrong. Most people aren’t so willing to admit they might be guilty.”
That was the truth. She expelled her breath, slow and easy. Some of the taut, tense fear flowed out with it.
“As your doctor, I order you to stop fixating on what you don’t know and start rediscovering yourself. You’ll find more answers there than in your determination to remember what happened.”
“But something’s wrong. It needs to be stopped. I know it. I can feel it.”
“Probably. But if your friends are doing their jobs, they’ll find the answers without your help. In the meantime, you concentrate on you. On what makes you feel good and relaxed. Stop beating yourself up. Someone else already did that for you.”
Joss relaxed her shoulders and tried to ignore the tight band across her stomach. “I know one thing. You’re a pretty good doctor.”
He gave her a nod. “Remember that when you get my bill.” He patted her leg through the blanket. “I’ll see you later today to sign your release papers. You’re going home.”
Home. Where was that? An apartment or a house? What did it look like? Comfy? Or bare essentials? Did she like to cook, or was she more of a takeout person? Did she have a pet? Was something warm and furry waiting for her? If so, did someone think to take care of it while she was in the hospital?
Wait! Did she have a boyfriend? No. Surely not. If she did he would have been in to see her, right? All of Dr. Hull’s orders flew out the window as panic built inside her. She didn’t even know what she liked to eat!
The door opened and Dylan eased into the room. His curly hair looked slightly mussed, and the shadow of a beard graced his jawline. Instead of appearing scruffy, he seemed warm and welcoming, like he was ready for an afternoon on the couch. Joss couldn’t believe how much the idea appealed to her. Sitting beside him, watching football, with tons of cheese puffs and potato chips.
Okay. She liked football. Cheese puffs. Potato chips.
And Dylan. And not necessarily in that order.
Dr. Hull was right. Concentrating on what she knew, instead of what she didn’t, helped. But there were two things she couldn’t forget, no matter how hard she tried. People were trying to kill her. So was home a safe place?
Second, she had to go, safe or not. She needed to trigger her memory, because something bad was going to happen if she didn’t stop it. Time was slipping away and she had to do something!
Groaning, she covered her face with her hands.
“Did the doctor give you bad news?”
The sound of Dylan’s voice, deep and resonant, somewhat eased the tight ball of fear in her stomach. His voice was the only thing she remembered...that and his singing. He had a habit of humming old hymns. She’d fallen asleep and woken many times to the sound of his low-key tones. She remembered some of the lyrics clearly. They came through strong, piercing the haze of pain. They were about the only things she did remember from the past few days. Those songs and his voice brought her comfort. With all the anxiety flowing through her, she needed that comfort more than anything right now.
A small smile slipped out... She couldn’t stop it. She was that relieved to see him.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On how you and Holmquist feel. Dr. Hull says he’ll be releasing me today.”
“That’s good news. Why does that make you unhappy?”
She hesitated. “You’ll have to make special arrangements, send more personnel to watch over me and...”
“Stop right there. You are not to think about those details. Let us do the worrying.”
Easier said than done. But with him, it worked. That calm reassurance went deep. How did he do it? What was it about him that eased the terror threatening to eat her alive?
That sense of safety with Dylan helped her go a step further and admit the truth. “I—I don’t know what I’m going home to.”
His eyebrows rose in a quizzical gesture. “You’re right. That is something to worry about. I don’t know how I’d feel either. Am I a neat freak? Do I hang my clothes or drop them? Am I a toilet paper up or down fellow?”
Joss giggled and a sharp pain shot through her temples. She stilled instantly, but couldn’t stop a little chuckle. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
“Okay. But seriously. I can’t help you there. I don’t know what your place looks like.”
“No? I thought you said we were friends.”
“Not that kind. We’re friends and we got along well. We’ve only known each other since I was transferred here to be the special agent on this case. About a month. We hadn’t graduated to visiting each other’s places, but we have common beliefs. We’re both Christians. You understood when I said my work was more of a calling...a God-given mission.”
That’s why the words to his songs comforted her so much. She was a Christian. She knew the songs. They meant something to her. It made sense. But what made more sense was the voice singing them. Dylan was