Agent to the Rescue. Lisa Childs
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pants and a pale yellow blouse. There were other clothes in a small bag in the backseat, too. It had bothered her that she hadn’t been able to buy them herself. But along with her identity, her money and credit cards had been lost, too.
With obvious reluctance, she admitted, “My head is starting to hurt again.”
“Should I take you to a hospital?” he asked with alarm, even as he mentally clocked the distance to the closest one.
“No, the headache is my fault,” she said. “I think I’m trying too hard to remember—to find something familiar.”
His tension eased somewhat. Maybe she wasn’t medically in danger. But how about emotionally?
“Have you found anything familiar?” he asked.
“It’s Chicago,” she said. “Doesn’t everyone know what Chicago looks like—just like they know what New York looks like? It doesn’t necessarily mean that they’ve ever lived there or even been there. Maybe they just saw it on TV so many times or in movies or described in books that it feels familiar.”
“So it does feel familiar to you,” he deduced.
She uttered a small groan of frustration. “I just don’t know...”
“Close your eyes for a few minutes,” he suggested. “Relax.” He didn’t want her hurting herself.
She must have been exhausted, because she took his advice, but her rest didn’t last long. When he pulled into the downtown parking garage, she opened her eyes. “We’re here?”
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