Protecting Rose (3 page)
“What day is it?”
“Yes,” he repeated. “What day is it?”
Her mind drew a blank.
“I...I don’t know.” Her voice broke.
Dr. Anderson glanced at the monitors by her bed before he continued. “Can you tell me who the President of the United States is?
“Of course,” she said with relief as she told him.
“What is eighteen plus nine?”
She hesitated for just a second, calculated the problem in her head. “Twenty-seven.”
“That’s correct. Now, can you tell me your name?”
“What?” She blinked.
“Your name,” he repeated. He checked her pupils by shining his penlight in first one eye, then the other.
“My name.” Her heart thundered in her chest. She searched her mind for the information.
Nate’s brows drew together, and he took her hand and clasped it between his large palms.
“Can you tell me your name?” Dr. Anderson asked with a frown.
She gulped and fought off a sudden wave of hysteria. What was her name? Why couldn’t she remember her name? Her breathing grew rapid.
She gripped Nate’s hand and held it to her chest.
“My name...my name.” Tears welled up in her eyes, and her lips quivered. “I...I don’t know my name.”
Oh…Hell
! That was a curve ball he hadn’t expected. The doctor injected something into the tube attached to her hand and he guessed it was a sedative of some sort. She seemed frightened and confused.
She maintained her grip on his hand as if it were her last lifeline. Nate couldn’t help but notice the soft sensual curves of her breasts against the back of his hand, even as his mind registered her rapid heartbeat.
“Hey, relax.” He stroked her cheek with the hand she wasn’t crushing. “Everything’s going to be fine.” He barely resisted the urge to pull her into his arms and offer comfort. The sedative began to work, and the panic left her eyes. She loosened her grip on his hand, but did not release it.
He tucked a misbehaving strand of hair behind her ear as his protective instincts sprang to life. Something about her pulled at him. She was beautiful no doubt, small and delicate. Was that it, he mused? Perhaps it was nothing more than his cop instinct to serve and protect. Or, a combination of both?
He studied her. She gazed back at him with soft brown eyes filled with both uncertainty and expectation. “Better?”
She gave him a tremulous smile. “Yes.” She glanced back at the doctor. “What happened to me?”
The doctor held two fingers to her wrist as he checked her pulse. “You were in an automobile accident. It seems you have a form of amnesia.”
The color drained from her face, accentuating the angry bruises that dotted her skin.
“Amnesia,” she repeated. She glanced at him with wide eyes glazed with confusion before she returned her attention back to the doctor. “Why can I remember some things, but not who I am?”
“It appears that you have what is referred to as Declarative Memory Loss. This could leave you without any memory about yourself. But you’d be able recall certain factual information. You could, for example, retain basic language and history skills. In some cases, a person could even retain the ability to play a musical instrument or speak a foreign language. But those cases are rare.”
“Is it permanent?” Nate asked.
“Well, there’ve been cases where memories never return. However, I don’t believe that’s what we have here. Medically speaking, there isn’t any reason why you shouldn’t fully regain your memory. But you need to rest now. I’ll stop back later this evening to see how you’re doing.”
”Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Detective,” Doctor Anderson said. “Do you have a moment?”
Nate nodded. “I’ll be right out.” The doctor stepped into the hall.
When he glanced back at the woman, she was growing drowsy from the sedative. He stood to leave. Panic flashed in her eyes and she gripped his hand. “Hey,” he said in a soothing tone. “I’ll be right back.”
She held his gaze for a moment before releasing his hand.
“I won’t be long,” he promised.
He met the doctor in the hall. “What’s going on with her?”
“Well,” the doctor said. “As I said, it appears she has amnesia.”
“From the car accident?”
“That’s possible,” Dr. Anderson agreed. “It could have been caused by the head injury. However, it could also be the result of a severe emotional trauma, or a combination of both.”
Nate felt an inkling of dread. “What kind of trauma are we talking about?” he asked, although he’d already concluded that she’d been beaten.
“Well, beside the injuries she sustained in the accident, it appears she was beaten and possibly sexually assaulted.”
Nate stilled. That was what he’d feared. “Are you certain?” His voice was quiet, yet seething with anger. He loved women, loved everything about them. Nothing angered him more than when some guy raised a hand against one. And rape...he wanted to tear the bastard apart.
“No,” the doctor said. “We’re not certain. If she was sexually assaulted, no DNA was left behind. Because some of her injuries are at least a few days old, it’s possible any DNA was washed away when she bathed, or perhaps a condom was used. The bruising patterns, however, indicate an attempted assault. That’s all we know for sure.”
Nate clenched his fist and turned to glare at her hospital door. “We need to post a guard outside her room. No one goes in without an I.D.”
“I’ll inform the staff.” Dr. Anderson wrote something down on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “Here is contact information for a counselor I recommend. Sheila Williams. She’s worked with police agencies in the past with assault victims. Ms. Williams should be able to help her regain her memories. She can also help her deal with whatever else may have happened.”
Nate nodded and tucked the card into the back pocket of his jeans as the doctor left for his next patient. He was familiar with Ms. William’s work with the police, and her reputation was excellent.
The woman didn’t remember the accident or the fact that someone had shot at them. He wondered if they should tell her right now. She just seemed too fragile.
He flipped open his cell phone to call Rick. He’d been up for over twenty-four hours and needed to get some sleep or he wouldn’t be able to protect her.
She awakened on and off for hours, drowsy from whatever the doctor had given her. Lost in her nightmares, she tried to remember...what? It was something important. She could feel the urgency of it in her quickened heartbeat and tinge of fear. Could almost find where it hid, just out of her mind’s reach. She closed her eyes and tried to hang on to the fast-fading shadow of a memory. Nevertheless, with a sigh of regret she felt it slip away.
She was certain her dreams held a clue to her identity, and she grabbed her head in frustration. Amnesia. Unbelievable.
“Hello,” she yelled. “Nurse!” She grabbed the nurse’s call button and frantically punched it. “Hello.”
A young nurse came into the room with a cheerful smile.
Her body tensed. She was so not in the mood for a Pollyanna nurse right now. She wanted to talk to Nate and find out what had happened to her. Her instincts told her they weren’t telling her everything. Anxiety and tension coursed through her like an ache. She tried to remember something—anything.
“Hello,” Pollyanna chirped as she reached up to turn off the call button. “You’re awake.”
“Where is Nate? Is he here?”
“No.” She reached to adjust the monitor controls by her bed. “He said to tell you he would be back first thing in the morning.”
“Can you call and tell him I need to speak with him?” she implored. She chewed at her lip. It was illogical to lean on this man for support, but she was adrift with no memories. He was all she had.
“No, I’m sorry.” Pollyanna nurse shook her head. “You need to wait until morning. Now I just need to check your temperature.”
She jumped when the nurse placed a cold thermometer in her ear. “Sorry,” she said, although it didn’t sound like she really meant it. She removed the thermometer, glanced at it, and smiled. “Now you need to rest. You’ll get all of your answers in the morning.” She left the room and shut the door behind her.
No, that wasn’t true. A tear rolled down her cheek. They didn’t know who she was.
She forced herself to settle back on the pillow and relax. This was a nearly impossible feat. She felt as though she was adrift in a stormy sea and Nate was her only lifeline. Lost in her thoughts, she tried to make sense of what was happening. The night dragged on.
A man in an orderly’s uniform entered the room. Someone she hadn’t seen earlier. He met her gaze and gave her a creepy smile that sent shivers of apprehension through her.
“Who are you?” She didn’t recognize the man, but something about him made her skin crawl, and she instinctively did not like him.
He shut the door behind him.
“I’m here to check on you,” he whispered in a gravelly voice.
The sedative had worn off, and she’d been awake for a few hours, trying to make sense of things. She eyed him cautiously as he silently moved toward her. Something didn’t feel right. He looked odd. His hair was askew, as if it didn’t sit just right on his head. It was a wig. He was wearing a really bad wig. Large black glasses hid his eyes when the bright florescent lights glared on them, and his hands were covered with black leather gloves.
Her entire body tensed, and her instincts told her to be wary of this man as he crept closer.
Something glinted in his hand when he neared.
Was that a knife
? The furious beat of her heart roared in her ears. She lifted her eyes and met his hard angry glare. She froze. He reached the side of her bed and loomed over her. She gasped when he raised his arm to strike. The sharp serrated edge of the knife gleamed bright under the harsh hospital lights. She opened her mouth to scream. He slammed his other hand over it and silenced her cries.
She grabbed the arm that held the knife and tried to stop its descent. He maintained his cruel grip over her mouth. Chattering voices from the hall covered the sounds of the life and death struggle in the room. Her heart held hope when footsteps neared her door, only to be shattered when they faded away, leaving her in the hands of a killer.
She was no match against him. Her body ached. What little strength she had seeped away. The knowledge that she was going to die increased her panic. She moaned in fear and frustration.
“Die, bitch,” he snarled.
An image of Nate flashed through her mind and gave her strength. A blast of adrenaline shot through her. Lifting her knees with determination, she was able to plant one foot on her attacker’s chest, and shoved with the last bit of energy she had propelling him backward. She cried out from the sharp pain of the knife as it slashed through her hands when he fell.
She let out a bloodcurdling scream.
She screamed again and rolled off the other side of the bed. Over the cords and monitors that were attached to her. The needle inserted in her hand torn out. The clatter of falling equipment and the urgent beep of the monitor alarm filled the room.
She felt every bruise and every wound on her already battered body. Hitting the floor amid the tangled equipment, she rolled under the hospital bed.
The man swore vehemently and glared at her before pushing himself off the floor to run from the room. Screams sounded from the hallway.
Tears streamed down her face as she held her bloody hands against her chest. The sound of chaos broke out in the hospital.
Nate woke up to the sound of George Thorogood’s
Bad to the Bone
on his cell phone. He shook off the final cobwebs of sleep that still lingered. With a groan, he cracked an eyelid to look at the clock. Five a.m. He fumbled with his cell phone on the nightstand and sat up with a jerk when he recognized the name of the hospital flash across the screen. He flipped the phone open. “Nate here.”
“Officer Stone. This is Michelle, the nurse from the hospital. Someone tried to kill our patient. And the police officer you left to guard her room is missing.”
His heart beat heavily against his chest as he sprang from bed. “Did you call the police?”
“Yes. Your number was left as the only contact for the patient, so I called you next. Hospital security has the building locked-down, and the police are on the way.”
“How’s the woman?” His body tensed and fear-induced adrenaline shot through him like a bullet.
“Okay. She’s okay,” Michelle said. “The doctor is with her now.”
“I’m on my way.” He snapped the phone shut and tossed it on the bed, then grabbed his pants off the chair. It occurred to him that he couldn’t just keep calling her the woman. She needed a name.