Mystical Love (96 page)

“No, of course not,” Amanda stated. “The accident wasn't my fault.”

“See there. You are better. That was a definitive statement.” He gave her a smile, and Amanda returned it. She had accepted his charity of a plane ticket home, but how on earth would she repay him for a limo ride? She couldn't. She'd have to dismiss the driver upon her release. She turned her attention back to him and saw he was now riffling through the top left drawer of his desk. Finding what he sought, he withdrew a large manila envelope and handed it off to her.

“The police managed to retrieve your purse from the wreckage. Lieutenant Cutter dropped it by an hour ago and asked that I give it to you upon your release.”

Amanda breathed a sigh of relief. Her purse! Thank goodness! Her wallet was in her purse, and it contained money. Her brain elaborated on that thought. Her purse also contained her driver's license. There'd be a picture that would assure her once and for all that she was Amanda King.

Taking the envelope, Amanda ripped the edges, pulling out the purse and rummaging through it. Cosmetic bag, keys, wallet. She grabbed the wallet and opened it and then searched for her I.D. card. Finding it, she pulled it out and stared at the photo. For a fraction of a second, she got that insane niggling that she was looking at a stranger. And then the inkling passed, and she read the address on the license.
165 Park Street, Burlington, Vermont.
She studied the rest of the contents. More keys, cell phone. She riffled further, spotting a bulky envelope near the bottom.

Pulling it out, she peered inside. A small gasp escaped her lips when she spotted a huge wad of hundred-dollar bills staring up at her. She glanced up to find Dr. Ramsay watching her with a troubled frown.

“There must be some mistake, Doctor. I'd never carry this much cash in my purse. In fact, I'm sure my bank account contains less than this. This isn't my money.”

“Not your money?” He straightened suddenly, all business. “Perhaps, at last, we have hit on one of the most important things your mind has forgotten. Could you have been on an extended vacation, or perhaps moving into the area? The cash might be a down payment on a house.”

“No, absolutely not! I don't take high-priced vacations. No ... ” She dropped the envelope back in the purse. “This is not my money. The police have made a horrible mistake. They've mixed up purses somehow. There's no other possible explanation. This envelope is not mine.”

Seeing her agitation, Dr. Ramsay sprang from his chair and came around the desk, patting her shoulder when he reached her. “Don't upset yourself, Miss King. I'll make a quick phone call and see if Lieutenant Cutter is still in the building. His brother is a doctor on staff here, and he often drops in for a visit when he's in town. If there's been a mistake, he'll rectify it.”

Amanda felt a surge of anger at the lieutenant's carelessness as she snapped the purse shut. “I'll make sure he rectifies the mistake,” she stated strongly.

‘There's no sense in losing your temper over this,” the doctor said. “And by the way, it's nice to know you have a temper. It means you're finding your old self again.”

“My old self! What on earth do you mean by that?”

He looked startled at the question, but forestalled any comment by lifting the phone receiver on his desk. “Jenny, see if Dick Cutter is still in the building ... He is? Good. Call down and tell him I need to see him at once.” He cradled the receiver and wagged a finger at her. “Now I won't have you getting upset when the lieutenant gets here. It sets back all the wonderful progress you've made this last week. In fact, just to be sure, I'll catch the lieutenant at the elevator and warn him not to upset you in any way.”

He exited the room so fast that Amanda had no time to tell him she wasn't worried about being upset. She was mad that her life had spun out of her control and into others' hands. She slid back on the seat cushions and held the purse firmly in her lap. She'd demand answers from the lieutenant as soon as she saw him. She was clearly not ready to be discharged in her doubtful state of mind. She would discuss that fact with the doctor when they were alone again.

A moment later, Dr. Ramsay re-entered the room with a tall, massive figure with hair the color of a field of oats. He came her way and perched himself on the edge of the mahogany desk, studying her face while the doctor took his seat behind him. Once he had, the lieutenant acknowledged her, his voice striking a familiar chord inside her as he spoke.

“Saul tells me there's been some mix-up with your personal belongings, Miss King.”

Amanda nodded, taking the purse from her lap and handing it off to him. He took it and began inspecting the contents, and she used the moment to muster her flagging courage. This was not the time to be intimidated by massive muscles and brawn. A mistake had been made, and she must set it right. No matter how much poorer it made her.

Snapping the purse shut, the lieutenant's gaze returned to hers. “I'm afraid I don't see anything amiss, Miss King.”

“Then you are a bigger lunatic than your men,” she replied tartly. Her tone was smooth but insistent. “Now that I'm on the mend, I think I deserve full disclosure about my accident.”

The lieutenant shifted on the desk, a deep furrow creasing the bridge of his nose, and then, to her surprise, he twisted around and spoke to the doctor.

“Do I have your permission to speak frankly to Miss King, Saul?”

Amanda saw a hesitant nod and shivered under that same sinking sensation that had haunted her ever since she had opened her eyes and found herself a patient in a strange hospital bed in a strange town.

“How much of the accident do you remember?”

It was her turn to be floored by a question. “Hardly any of it, but Dr. Ramsay assures me my memories will come back, given enough time.”

“Would you like a remembrance to hold on to until that occurs?”

“Certainly.”

He leaned forward, fiddling with the straps of the purse. “The accident occurred on Saguro Drive. A careless tourist on horseback lost control of her horse and lumbered into the path of oncoming traffic. You swerved left, the car coming east swerved right. You went over an embankment, while the other car managed to plow into a sand dune.” He held the purse out to her. “The money is yours, Miss King. The gentleman in the other car left it for you.”

“Left it?”

“I know it sounds preposterous, but there are still some Good Samaritans left in the world. The driver walked away from the crash, and you didn't. Once he learned how injured you were, he left the money for you.”

He waved the purse at Amanda, who took it back slowly. She clenched her jaw to kill the sob rising in her throat. An absolute stranger had taken pity on her. It was humiliating.

“But why did he do it?”

“I guess he thought you needed the money more than he did. We'll never know. He left Taos not long after the accident.”

Amanda sat for a moment, trying to absorb the lieutenant's words. She had been given five thousand dollars by a total stranger. She could go where she liked and do what she liked with it. She was free. Her eyes suddenly ringed with tears. She couldn't keep the money. She had to return it. It was a matter of pride.

“Do you remember the man's name, where he came from?” she asked quietly.

“I believe he came from New York City, a detective of some kind.” The lieutenant fished in his pocket. “The name was Reed, I think. I might still have my notes containing his name and address, if you care to write and thank him.”

“Yes, thank you, I would.”

Amanda mentally crossed her fingers. She had no intention of writing to the gentleman, not after the lieutenant's refusal to give the money back to him. She was going to go herself and
make
him take back the money. She couldn't become any more indebted to him than she already was.

She heard the sound of rustling pages and succumbed to the worst wretchedness of mind she had ever felt. She wanted the money desperately, but she mustn't keep it. If she ever was to grow whole again, it had to be through her own efforts, not through the kindness of strangers. The money had to be returned with her most heartfelt “thanks, but no thanks.”

Girded by her resolve, she was pleased when the lieutenant muttered, “Ah, here it is.”

He flipped the pad to a blank sheet and began scribbling. Thank goodness she had convinced him she intended to write her mysterious savior.

The lieutenant tore the sheet from the pad and held it out to her. Taking it, Amanda forced a bright smile to her lips. The lieutenant wasn't as intimidating as she'd first thought. He had a kind heart. It was too bad she had to deceive him in such an underhanded way. She tucked the sheet safely in the purse and stood, offering her hand to the lieutenant, who shook it briefly.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. And thank you, Doctor, for the plane ticket home.”

“You can thank that young gentleman you're writing to for that. He bought you the plane ticket.”

Amanda suppressed an angry retort. Her mystery man had taken a lot upon himself. Money, a plane ticket. Had he bought the clothes on her back, too? He must've. She didn't have the sophistication to buy clothes as chic as these.

“Did the gentleman happen to pay for the clothes I'm wearing, Lieutenant?”

“Why, yes. And he paid your hospital bill. Didn't he, Saul?”

Amanda saw a flicker of unease cross the doctor's face. “I can't divulge that kind of information. You know that, Dick.”

Amanda felt her courage deflate quickly. “He must be very rich and very sure of himself.”

“And very stupid,” the lieutenant added.

“Why do you say that?”

“He forgot to take you with him when he left.”

Amanda saw a mischievous gleam enter the lieutenant's eyes, and she blushed profusely. He was teasing her, and she hadn't the foggiest idea why. Nor did she know how to respond. To her surprise, her ego surfaced, making her feel an emotion she hadn't felt since waking up. She laughed at the lieutenant's remark. However, when a second laugh threatened to bubble up in her throat, she choked it back. She had almost forgotten how good it felt to laugh. Perhaps sharing her body with an alien ego wasn't so bad after all.

She gave a last nod to the pair and exited the room, letting the door fall softly shut behind her.

• • •

Watching the door close, the lieutenant inhaled deeply.

“Was that wise?” The question echoed from the chair behind him, and Dick turned, meeting the doctor's worried gaze.

“Absolutely not, but then I've always been a sucker for happy endings.”

“Having her write Agent Reed could set back her recovery. I took an oath to help patients, not aid in confusing them with bogus fairy tales. What if she decides to visit him in person and return the money?”

The lieutenant began twirling a metallic paperweight by his knee. “I'm counting on that. They belong together, Saul. And sometimes love needs a little push.”

“Even if she gets there and never remembers the truth?”

“Even then.”

Ignoring the persistent ringing of his phone, Logan shrugged into his denim jacket. Whoever was calling would have to leave a voice mail. He was already running thirty minutes late, thanks to a late-night cat-and-mouse game through Chinatown. Why were young girls always drawn to that part of the city? He hoisted his pant leg up and slipped his revolver into its holster. He knew the girl's reason, of course.
Romeo and Juliet
. Family clashes. Two pissed-off teens on the run from their parents.

Swinging around, Logan snatched up his keys and wallet from his desk and tucked the wallet in his back pocket. Whirling around, he was startled to find his secretary, Monica, standing in the open doorway.

“Not now, Monica,” he threw at her. “I don't care who it is.”

“It's Dresden. He's asking to see you.”

Logan made a face, sliding his keys into his front jeans pocket. “What in the hell have I done wrong now?” A smile broke out on her face, and she shushed him with a wagging finger. “Alright, you win,” he growled. “I'll be a good little boy.”

She made a face at him and then backed out the door quickly. The lines of concentration deepened along Logan's brow. He had kept a tight rein on his temper since his return and a low-key attitude when in the office. He hadn't pissed anybody off, especially Dresden. A muscle quivered in his jaw. Then again, he and Dresden had barely exchanged four words since his return. It was possible Dresden believed he still held a grudge for being sent to New Mexico. That had to be it. He wanted to clear the air between them.

Perching on his desk, Logan began whistling softly. He had to get Dresden out of his office ASAP. He wasn't ready to talk about Sonny and New Mexico yet. Not with anyone. Quicker than he liked, he heard Dresden's booming laugh and took a deep breath. Moments later, Dresden's imposing form dwarfed the doorway, and Logan hopped from the desk.

“I'm on my way out,” he said by way of greeting. “I've got my teens cornered in Chinatown. If I delay, I'll never smoke them out.”

“I won't hold you up long,” Dresden said, stepping back. He pushed his companion into the room. “Miss King, here, assures me she will take only a moment of your time.”

“Miss King?”

Logan's throat closed up. Jesus! Sonny? Here? What the hell had happened?

Bowing out the door, Dresden cleared his throat. “I'll leave you two to your discussion.”

For the first time in his life, Logan was speechless. What the hell could the mouse possibly have to say to him in her present form? It was clear by the tilt of her brow and the uncertainty of her expression that she didn't recognize him. It was also clear she was having trouble finding the right words to start the conversation between them. Should he push the issue first?