The Stranger in Room 205. GINA WILKINS
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stay until things calm down a bit and someone has time to spend with this poor man.”
“‘This poor man?’” Dan’s expression was quizzical. “You know something about him that I don’t?”
“No, of course not. I just—well, you know. I found him and now I feel sort of responsible for him.”
“Mmm. That’s the kind of thinking that gets well-intentioned folks in trouble. Better find out who he is before you adopt him.”
Fully aware that Dan was always suspicious of outsiders in his town and would be particularly wary of anyone who showed up under these circumstances, Serena nodded. She was as vigilant as Dan about keeping their hometown free from the crimes that had taken hold in so many places even as small and unremarkable as this.
Dan glanced again at the man in the bed on his way out of the room. “Have someone call me when he wakes up, will you? I have a few questions for him.”
Serena watched him leave. He left the door open a couple of inches, so she could hear him speaking in his measured, authoritative manner, his voice fading as he moved away with Red Tucker and whoever else had been in the hallway outside the room. And then she ran a hand through her hair again and turned to keep watch over the man in the bed—only to find that his eyes were open and focused intently on her face.
“Oh. So you’re awake again. Are you able yet to talk to the chief of police, or would you like me to give you a few minutes before I call him back in?”
The woman was sitting in a chair very close to the narrow bed on which he found himself. She leaned slightly toward him as she spoke, and there appeared to be concern in her eyes. He knew those eyes. Blue. Or maybe green. Pretty. There were only two of them this time. One nose. One mouth. All very nicely arranged in an oval face framed in a soft brown bob. Whatever had happened to him—and he was awake enough to realize that he was lying in a hospital room—he was still able to recognize that this was a very attractive woman. He found that observation reassuring. He couldn’t be damaged too badly if he was still interested in the opposite sex.
“Sir?” she repeated when he continued to stare at her rather than answering. “Did you hear me? Can you speak to me?”
He blinked, trying to recall what she’d said. Something about…police? He frowned, then winced when his swollen, sore face rebelled against the expression. “Uh—yeah, I can hear you,” he managed to say, his voice gruff, as if it hadn’t been used in a long time.
The sound of it seemed to encourage her. “How do you feel?”
The only appropriate phrase he could come up with in answer seemed inappropriate for mixed company. He settled for, “Not great.”
“I don’t doubt it. You have several very painful injuries, but the doctor said you’ll be fine. Things are rather hectic here tonight because of a school bus accident, but it’s a decent little hospital. They’ll take good care of you.”
“Where…?” He swallowed to clear his thick voice, then tried again. “Where is this hospital?”
“Edstown,” she answered.
“Ed’s town?” he repeated blankly. “Who’s Ed?”
“I’m sorry, I thought you…it’s Edstown,” she said again. “Edstown, Arkansas.”
“Arkansas.” He repeated the name of the state slowly, trying to make it mean something to him. “How did I get here?”
“I found you lying in a ditch near my house. You had been severely beaten—perhaps left for dead. I called an ambulance and accompanied you here. Do you remember any of this?”
Actually, there were quite a few things he didn’t remember—but he wasn’t ready to get into that. Not with the word “police” still echoing hollowly in his mind.
She was studying him with a frown. “Maybe I’d better go get a doctor….”
“No.” He tried to hold up a hand to stop her, but both his arms seemed to be strapped down, the left wrist in a splint or bandage of some sort. “Wait. Don’t go yet.”
For some reason, he didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want to lie here alone, hurting and fighting the confusion that was steadily threatening to overwhelm him. He was sure everything would come back to him once he’d had a chance to rest and recover for a few minutes. Considering the circumstances, it was no wonder he couldn’t even remember his…
“Your name,” the woman was saying. “You haven’t even told me your name.”
Tom? Dick? Harry? Nothing. Not a glimmer of recognition. How the hell could he forget his own name? he wondered in mounting frustration.
She seemed to go suddenly tense. “You do remember your name, don’t you?”
He pictured her reaction if he admitted that his mind was achingly blank. She’d probably panic. She’d start calling doctors and nurses…maybe that chief of police she’d mentioned. The medical staff would rush in, poking and peering and treating him like some kind of freak, and who knew what the cop would believe. “Of course I remember my name.”
She waited.
“Sam,” he said, seizing the first moniker that came to him.
“Sam?” Her smooth brow wrinkled again. Obviously, his hasty answer hadn’t satisfied her.
He groped for a surname. Nothing. His gaze skimmed the room as if searching for an answer. Bed. Chair. Floor. “Wall,” he murmured. “Er…Wallace,” he amended quickly.
He didn’t know why he was so reluctant to admit the truth. Just tell her he couldn’t for the life of him remember his name—or anything else that mattered. Actually, maybe he should be worried. He could be suffering brain damage. Something a doctor should look into immediately. Could be bleeding from the brain. God only knew what else. But something kept him quiet. He felt so stupid…he was sure it would all come back to him in a minute. He just needed a little time.
Whoever he was, he apparently believed in handling his own problems in his own way.
“Sam Wallace?” she repeated, a bit doubtfully.
Hell, why not? It would work until something better occurred to him. Like his real name. “Yeah. Sam Wallace. Who are you?”
“Serena Schaffer.”
Serena. It suited her, he decided. “Thank you for rescuing me, Serena Schaffer,” he said.
“I didn’t do that much, but you’re welcome. Now I really should get someone in here. The doctor will want to know you’re awake…and Dan Meadows, our chief of police, wants to talk to you. Just to ask you a few questions about what happened to you.”
The word police made him tense again. He wished he knew why. It was like…an instinct. Something inside him that told him to be very careful. At least until he remembered—
The door opened and a very large woman in a white uniform bustled in, shaking her head and muttering to herself. “What a night. I swear, if that Red Tucker says one more cross word to me, I’m going to snatch him bald-headed. We’re taking care of all those kids the best we can, and he’s out there… Oh, my, he’s awake.”
“Yes, we’ve been talking,” Serena replied.
The nurse nodded. She leaned over the bed and peered into his eyes. “Headache?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“He seems a little disoriented,” Serena added, proving she hadn’t been entirely fooled by his act.
The nurse didn’t look surprised. “That’s to be expected with the concussion. The doctor will be in soon, but they’ve got him running out there now.”
He tried to nod, but went still when his head hammered in protest. “I’m not going anywhere.”