The Stranger Next Door. Joanna Wayne
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who claimed to be her fiancé was a total stranger. “I don’t remember you.”
The man stared at her, doubt and confusion written all over his face. “I don’t understand.”
She all but fell into the chair a few inches behind her. “I don’t even know your name,” she murmured.
“It hasn’t changed in the past three weeks. It’s still Samuel Drummer.” He turned back to Langley. “Where did she get those bruises on her face and arms? Has she been in an accident?”
“She was brutally attacked in New Orleans.”
“Oh, no.” He knelt in front of Danielle, taking her hands in his. “I should have known it was something like this when you didn’t come home and didn’t call. What were you doing in New Orleans?”
“I don’t know.” She studied the man’s face, then stared into his eyes, hoping that she’d feel some spark of recognition, praying some fragment of recollection would flash into her brain. There was nothing. She pulled her hands from his.
He exhaled sharply. “Help me, Danielle. It’s so hard seeing you like this when I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“I’m sorry, Samuel. I’m not trying to be difficult. It’s just that I’m having trouble remembering things. And people.” She took a deep breath and forced the diagnosis from her dry throat. “I have amnesia.”
“Amnesia.” He stood and backed away as if she’d named some dread, contagious disease. “Exactly how much do you remember?”
“Basically nothing. I don’t even remember who I am.”
He dropped into the chair next to hers and buried his face in his hands. “This is my fault,” he mumbled. “I knew you were upset. I should never have let you pack a bag and leave the house alone that night. I know how you are when you get that way.”
Langley leaned forward in his chair. “Placing blame won’t change anything. Danielle needs information about who she is. She needs your help in remembering her past.”
“Of course. I’ll help all I can. I’ll get her the best doctors in Fort Worth. I’ll take a night job if I have to in order to pay the bills.”
“She’s seen a doctor. Facts are what we need now.”
“I’ll tell you anything I can.” He twisted his hands and stared at the toes of his brown loafers. “What do you want to know?”
Danielle scooted her chair around in order to face him. “I know my first name is Danielle. What’s my last name?”
He hesitated. “Thibodeaux. Danielle Thibodeaux.”
A Cajun name. That explained her accent, but the name was no more familiar to her than the man who had said it. “Do I have a family?”
“Not anymore. You were an only child. Your parents are dead, at least that’s what you told me. If there’s anyone else, I don’t know about them. I didn’t even know about this Milton Maccabbe fellow whom you wanted to visit in Kelman until he started sending you letters. Frankly, I had my doubts about a man surfacing out of the blue and claiming to be your uncle.” He straightened and stared at Danielle, his eyes flashing as if he’d just hit the jackpot. “That’s it, isn’t it? It’s Milton Maccabbe. What did he do to you?”
Danielle’s fingers dug into her palms. She unclasped her hands and ran them along the rough denim of her jeans. “Milton is dead, Samuel. He has been for two weeks now. He’s not part of the problem.”
“At least he’s not the one who attacked her,” Langley corrected.
“Look, I’m sorry.” Samuel shifted in his chair. “I didn’t know.”
“How long have you known me, Samuel?”
“About six months. You moved to Fort Worth from some little town in south Louisiana. I met you in a club downtown. I bought you a drink. We danced a few times. You know how it is. We just hit it off.”
“What kind of work did I do?”
“You were unemployed when I met you, but you were looking for a job.”
“What kind of work was I looking for?”
“Waitressing. Or whatever you could find. You were low on funds.” He stood and paced the small room. “Look, we don’t have to go into this now. I’ll take you home. We’ll get you medical care. You can rest in your own bed with your own things around you. I’ll take care—”
Langley broke into his frantic rambling. “We need Danielle’s social security number, Samuel. Do you know it or know where we can find it?”
He stopped pacing. “I don’t have it. It’s got to be in her purse. Did you check her driver’s license?”
“My purse was stolen when I was mugged in New Orleans.”
Samuel threw up his hands in frustration. “Of course, I should have realized. If you had your purse or even your luggage, you’d at least know your name and where you live.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “All this has taken me by such surprise. I mean, I never expected to run into anything like this.”
“You can’t be any more confused than I am, Samuel,” Danielle said.
“What about friends?” Langley asked, breaking into the conversation. “Did Danielle have any close friends?”
“Not in Fort Worth. She was…” He hesitated. “She stayed at home a lot after we moved in together. She was going through some hard times.”
“What kind of hard times?” Langley tapped the eraser end of a yellow pencil against the legal pad that rested at his fingertips. “Was she sick? Upset? Give me some specific details.”
Samuel walked over and stood behind Danielle’s chair. He dropped his hands possessively to her shoulders. “I don’t see why we need to go into any of this right now. Danielle has been through enough. I’d just like to take her home.”
“It’s not quite that simple.”
Samuel’s grip on her shoulders tightened as his muscles tensed. “I’d like to know why the hell it isn’t. I don’t know what’s going on here, but Danielle’s obviously the victim, not the suspect. You can’t hold her in this one-horse town.”
Danielle felt they were talking as if she wasn’t in the room, the same way she’d felt the first few days in the hospital. Then, she’d been too weak and confused to protest. She wasn’t anymore. “I’m not being held here, Samuel. I’m staying of my own accord. And I’m not ready to go home with you. Not yet.”
“I see.” Samuel lifted his hands from her shoulders. “That’s fine. If you want to stay here, I’ll take a few more days off work and stay with you.”
“There’s one little complication there, Samuel.” Langley rose from his chair and walked to the front of the desk. “The police believe the man who attacked Danielle might know her. The evidence suggests it could have been an estranged lover.”
Samuel shook his head. “You surely don’t suspect me. I don’t have a violent bone in my body. Danielle can tell you that.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “At least she could if she were herself.”
“I’m not doubting you.” Langley leveled a gaze at Samuel. “Not yet anyway. But for now, I think it’s best if you see Danielle only when either I or the deputy can be present.”
Samuel’s stance grew rigid. “And what about you, Danielle? Is that the way you want it?”
Her heart went out to Samuel. It truly did. He seemed like a nice guy and genuinely frustrated. But he was still a stranger. And the New Orleans detective’s theory still sent chills down her spine.
She considered her options.