Stolen Memories. Liz Johnson
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protect Julie from this questioning. And when she knew the truth about the missing child, she’d pummel her own mind to unearth the details and solve the disappearance.
As he led the marshals into the busy hospital, Zach shot up a quick prayer that this meeting would lead to the location of the missing baby and not derail any progress Julie had made thus far.
* * *
Julie leaned against her bed, the muscles in her legs trembling after the short walk across the room. She’d barely splashed water on her face, combed her new hairstyle and checked out the swelling around her eye before her strength had vanished. But she’d pushed herself to get back across the room. No way did she want the nurse—or Zach—finding her in a heap on the bathroom floor.
“Julie?”
She yanked the belt of her robe tighter at her waist before looking up into Zach’s face. But he wasn’t alone. Grabbing the lapels, she pulled them together beneath her chin, never taking her gaze off the tall man and slender woman standing just behind Zach.
He hustled across the room, cupping her elbow and helping her slide back onto her bed, her slippered feet dangling just above the floor.
“Are you all right? You look really pale.” His grip on her arm loosened, but he didn’t back away.
She nodded slowly. “I’m okay.” Her gaze traveled back to the couple still in the doorway. Her questions must have shown on her face, as Zach didn’t wait for her to ask them before answering.
“These are the U.S. Marshals I told you about last night.” A quick glance over his shoulder had the woman walking quickly across the room, her hand outstretched.
“Serena Summers.” Her grip was gentle around Julie’s brace, but her smile didn’t quite wrinkle the fine lines at the edge of her eyes. “And this is my partner, Josh McCall.”
The man strode toward them, his gaze even and detached. No, that wasn’t quite right. He was engaged but calm, a shield of professionalism blocking his true emotions.
Julie wrapped her arms around her middle. Maybe she could just crawl back into bed and pull the covers over her head. Whatever they wanted with her, she couldn’t give it to them. It certainly would require remembering more than that her face didn’t usually look like it had been used as a punching bag.
But that was all she had at the moment.
And only God knew how much longer it would be that way. The doctor had said he didn’t think it was a permanent condition, but he couldn’t pinpoint when her memory would return.
Until then she wouldn’t be much help to anyone.
Zach dropped his hand, and she immediately missed the warmth. “The marshals think that you might have come into contact with someone that they’re searching for.”
She shrugged and shook her head. “Do you think the man you’re looking for is the one who attacked me? I can’t remember anything from before that night.”
“Detective Jones filled us in on your condition. I’m so sorry. But we hope you might be able to help us.”
How was she supposed to respond to that? She was sorry about it, too. It didn’t change the reality.
“We’d appreciate it if you’d take a look at a headshot to see if you recognize him.” Serena snapped the elastic tie from around her file and flipped through the pages within.
Julie looked at Zach, who nodded slowly, his eyes bright with hope and encouragement. “All right. I’ll try.”
Serena held out a five-by-seven image, the man in the picture standing against the evenly spaced height lines of a police wall, a black plaque at his chest announcing his name as Adams, Frank. His hair was dark and ruffled, maybe beginning to gray at the temples. He had narrow-set eyes that looked almost black, but it could have been just a shadow. The bridge of his nose zigged and zagged, clearly broken at least twice. Thin lips were nearly hidden behind a five o’clock shadow, which could do nothing to camouflage the pink scar that slashed across his chin. It ran from the corner of his mouth toward the center of his jaw, perhaps a reminder of a fight gone terribly wrong.
She squinted and leaned forward, bringing the image closer to her face.
Did she remember those features? Was the scar or crooked nose familiar?
Waiting for the familiar sense of recognition to flood her mind, she didn’t dare shift her gaze away.
But it never came.
Instead, a sinking sensation carried her stomach to her toes and she pressed her hand against the recently vacated spot. Looking up into Zach’s tense features, she shook her head. “If I’ve ever seen him before, I don’t remember.” Handing the picture back to Serena, she continued, “I’m sorry. His face doesn’t ring any bells.”
The marshal tucked the image back into her folder, her eyebrows pinched together. She glanced at her partner, who crossed his arms over his chest, then seemed to think better of his stance, instead letting his hands drop to his sides and find their way into his pockets.
“What about the guy who attacked you here in the hospital last night? Could it have been him?” Zach slipped a hand into hers, squeezing her fingers until she met his gaze.
She closed her eyes, reliving that horrifying moment when she’d thought she’d never be able to breathe again. “No.” Zach offered a reassuring squeeze in her pause, and she ran her free hand over her butchered locks very slowly. “The man last night had light hair, and his eyes weren’t as dark.”
“You’re sure?”
She chewed on her lip and stared toward the ceiling for a long moment. Her mind had been letting her down for days now, and she found it difficult to trust even the few memories she’d made since waking up here at the hospital. What if it wasn’t recalling the right details from the night before?
No. The man last night had had a narrow face and pale eyes. She was sure of it.
Almost.
“No. Yes.” Something prickled at the back of her eyes, and she pinched them closed to fight the building moisture. “I don’t know.”
Zach rubbed the back of her wrist with a gentle motion, making figure eights with his forefinger. “It’s okay. Just do the best you can.” When she looked up from the movements of his finger, she found his eyes filled with compassion, a worried frown puckering the skin between his eyebrows.
“I’m pretty sure that the man here wasn’t the man in your picture. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.” She leaned against her pile of pillows, letting her eyes droop.
Walking across the room and trying to remember an unknown face had sapped her energy. At least the interview was over. It was time for a nap.
But the marshals had another question. “Julie, were you alone the night that you were attacked?” This from Josh, who met her gaze with kindness but an intensity that she could not fathom.
“You mean, was I with Frank Adams? I don’t know.” She let out a quick sigh. “I—I don’t think so. But I don’t know anything for sure.”
“Not Frank. Was there anyone else with you before your attack?”
“Who?”
Zach ran a hand over his face but didn’t release her fingers from his grip.
“I was with someone.” The words rushed forward on a breath, a strange combination of question and certainty, followed immediately by a hiccup. With trembling fingers she wiped a hair off her forehead. “Who was I— How do you know?”
Serena opened her mouth, but Zach shot the marshal a look and cut in. “You were caught on a security camera a couple blocks from Webster Park.”
“What? What was on it? What did it show? I wasn’t alone?”
He