The Choice (5 page)

“Marcie, do you remember what the guy looked like who stole your purse?” Jesse crossed his arms.

“Jesse, I’m pretty sure it was a backpack.” It was Jesse’s way to trap her, but Sam, too tired to play games, interrupted. He wanted this done.

“Yes Sam, good thing you’re here, or we’d never get to the bottom of this.” Jesse
snapped
.

Marcie’s eyes darted between the two of them. “I didn’t see anyone, and I don’t know what I had. The only thing I remember is seeing my hand covered in blood, and you stopping to help me.” Her hand flattened, palm up in a powerful gesture toward Sam. “I’m pretty sure my name’s Marcie. I don’t know my last name. I don’t know how I got to the airport, or how I ended up with my head cracked open. And I don’t even know if anyone’s looking for me.”

The intern patted her hand. I’m going to have the psychiatrist come by and have a chat with you.”

“Is that going to help me get my memory back and provide any of these answers?”

Sam liked that spark of personality.

“It’s too soon to tell, but psychiatrists can decipher all kinds of things going on in someone’s head that we can’t see.” The intern smiled warmly at Sam, ignoring Jesse who stood off to the side. Then she deliberately placed her back to Marcie, glancing down at Sam’s ring finger. “You know, there’s really nothing more you can do here, and I get off in an hour. Any chance you’d like to grab a coffee?”

Jesse chuckled from the corner reminding Sam how easily women flocked to him. But it was the bright tears sparkling in Marcie’s hurt eyes, which sliced open Sam’s gut.

“Ah no.” Sam moved to stand by Marcie, annoyed with emotions he didn’t care to explore waging war inside of him. “Listen, what happens after all these tests are done, are you going to admit her?”

The interns’ suggestive smile vanished. Her spine stiffened. “Most likely she’ll be released. We’re over crowded as it is. There are no beds.”

This time Jesse stepped up. “Oh come on. Are you telling me you’d throw out a woman who can’t remember who she is? Where’s she supposed to go?”

The nice perky intern vanished before Sam’s eyes. She crossed her tanned arms in front of her.

“Oh come on, Detective. That’s not fair to put on me. We got no beds. You know how bad it is for county cases. She’s got no insurance, right?”

“If my memory’s gone, how would I know if I had insurance?” Everyone looked down at Marcie, a woman so aware of this moment in time now.

“Maybe we can get you to one of those women’s shelters for tonight.”

How thoughtful of Jesse. But Sam knew how bad some of those places could be. That is if you were lucky enough to find a bed. “Look, I haven’t been home in a while, my place has been closed up. But there’s a bed for you to sleep in tonight. And tomorrow, we’ll come up with a new plan.”

Marcie said nothing, though she gave a weak nod, appearing to consider the idea. “Just for tonight then, I really don’t want to put you out.”

Now he felt bad for trying to sneak away earlier. She seemed genuinely nice, which was a far cry from the criminal element he usually encountered. At least he’d have one more night of sobriety. Maybe tomorrow he’d get a chance to wallow in misery.

Marcie’s head CT came back negative for any serious head trauma. The psychiatrist assessed Marcie briefly and said there was no clinical explanation for her memory loss. And he suspected her memory could easily return in a few days. If it didn’t return in a few weeks, he suggested it’d then be time to explore it further with a neurologist.

Jesse drove Sam and Marcie back to Sam’s small flat in the French Quarter. Instead of going right home, Jesse accepted Sam’s invitation to come up.

“Let me open some windows.” Sam slid open the balcony door. An instant breeze stirred the musty air.

Marcie leaned against a bare wall, crossing her arms across her blood-splattered shirt. She looked around the simple box room. Every dingy wall remained free of pictures or adornments. This place was merely four walls and humble furnishings.

“How long’s it been since you were here last?” Jesse had a heavy rhythmic walk, swaying his shoulders with each step. He wandered the plain apartment kitchen as he spoke. Jesse had a tanned, slightly scarred face, mysterious dark eyes, cropped curly hair and a wide mouth, which smiled on command to shamelessly flash a gleaming silver tooth.

Jesse appeared d
istracted and distant
pull
ing
open the fridge and then the old scratched cupboards as if inspecting the unmaintained unit’s condition.

“Over six months. Don’t know why I keep the place. Guess I can’t figure out what to do with everything. So I keep paying the rent.” Sam fiddled with an old clock sitting on a cluttered desk, in what Marcie supposed was part of the living room. The way he smoothed his hand over the brass cover and then pulled his fingers back as if burned; she realized some emotional link kept him here.

“You got no food. Do you want me to make a run to the market for you?” His concern appeared brotherly, as if in a familiar role of watching over Sam. He swaggered over to Sam hiking up his baggy pants just under his heavy beer belly.

“That would be great. Grab us some burgers too.” Sam pulled out a worn wallet and fingered out a handful of bills, mashing them into Jesse’s hand. “And don’t forget the beer.” Something passed between the men, hesitation, awkwardness
.

Jesse didn’t linger. He turned and shuffled to the door. He stopped when his hand turned the knob and gave a look of kind consideration to Marcie. “Do you need anything Marcie?”

She blinked and moved away from the wall. This compassion, for some reason, pulled a little in her heart. It was foolish really. But it meant something. She darted a quick glance at Sam. He, too, looked thoughtfully. “I thank you. I don’t know what I need?”

Sam flushed and firmed his lips as he stalked across the room like a man secure on his feet. He handed more bills to Jesse. “Get her a new shirt, toothbrush, some essentials. I don’t know what else. You have a wife.”

“So did you, don’t mean I know what she needs nor pay no mind to what she buys.” Jesse tucked the money in his pocket and went out the door. “I’ll do my best.”

Sam patted Jesse’s back. “Thanks, Jesse.” Jesse left. Sam rested his palm against the closed door,
watching her
with
those
mesmerizing blue eyes.

“Let me get your room done up for you.” He continued on into the only bedroom, walking slower, putting his lean linebacker body into each step. He filled the doorway when he passed through it. And she was glad he didn’t see the dreamy clouds that came into her eyes.

He was so much the shabby fallen angel, confident, oozing with integrity and quite the package. She lingered in the doorway, watching while he pulled bedding from a cupboard and made the double bed.

“Why didn’t you go for coffee with that doctor when she asked you?” She instantly colored, wishing she could take back the words.

He froze while hunched over to tuck the sheet under the mattress and then slowly turned his head toward her.

Marcie shuffled her feet. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. I just … you took me in; you don’t know me—and you didn’t turn your back on me. You were concerned for me. You turned her down flat without even considering it.”

He flicked the top sheet over the mattress and folded stiff hospital corners. His nostrils flared as he breathed deeply. “Only creeps do that sugar. It’s not even a consideration in my mind to act that way when I’m with another woman who’s flat-out hurt.” He arranged a blanket on the bed and plumped a pillow. “Bathroom’s around the corner if you want to get cleaned up before Jesse’s back with dinner.” Sam directed her with a nod.

“Would you mind if I had a quick bath?”

“Not at all, I’ll get you a towel.”

Marcie followed Sam. He pulled a towel from the linen cupboard and placed it on the worn, chipped counter in the apartment style bathroom. He paused for a moment. Sadness lurked in his eyes when he touched a hairbrush, lying neatly assembled, with cream, lotion, shampoo and assorted makeup. He closed his eyes tight, as if blocking out some painful emotion waging war inside of him. “Use whatever stuff you need here.” He didn’t tarry, but crossed over the threshold and pulled the door closed.

Marcie didn’t know what to make of this. But she remembered Jesse’s comment before he left. Sam used to have a wife. If so, was this hers, and what happened to her?

Jesse returned shortly after Marcie finished with a quick bath. Her mind full of questions regarding Sam’s wife because it was obvious she remained a ghost in this apartment, still had a prominent place in his life.

Jesse dumped three plastic bags on the kitchen counter. Sam put away enough food to keep them fed for a few days. Burgers and greasy fries tempted Marcie’s stomach. It grumbled from the savory aroma.

They gathered around the living room coffee table, downing burgers, fries and a soda. Well the soda was for Marcie; Sam and Jesse opted for beer.

“Drinking on the job, or are you off shift?”

Jesse took a deep swig from a bottle of beer. “You’ve been away too long. You know things are done a little different down here. Besides it’s just one.” Jessie belched. “Oh pardon me, Ma’am.”

Marcie offered a shy smile and shoved more fries in her mouth.

“So what’re you doing back, Sam? Last I heard you were running some high profile case, nailing some big time drug dealer.”

Sam said nothing but leaned back and downed the rest of his beer.

Jesse frowned. Deep lines cut around his eyes.

Sam got up and helped himself to another beer from the fridge.

“You know, ever since we’re boys, and I found you with that busted lip your Daddy gave you, I knew when you clammed up this tight, something bad happened. You’d get moody, didn’t want to talk. You haven’t changed.”

“What the fuck? Are you my shrink now?”

Marcie bit into her burger while her heart kicked up a bit, watching with large eyes, first Jesse and then Sam. So Sam was a cop too.

“Marcie you’re looking kind of pale.” Sam wandered back, sinking down into the worn, narrow couch.

“I’m fine, just hungry.” To prove it, she took another bite of her burger wondering why she felt so unsettled.

“I noticed you still got her things everywhere. She’s been gone for two years. Don’t you think it’s time you got rid of everything?” 
Jesse
leaned back in the soft, easy chair nursing his beer. “It’s been six years, Sam, since you busted my nose for sticking it into your business. Don’t you think it’s time we cleared the air?

Sam splayed his hands in acquiescence spilling a few drops of beer on the brown, dingy cushion.

“I shouldn’t have called her a lying piece of whore trash before you married her.” Sam’s gaze darted so fast over to Jesse, Marcie wondered for a moment if he’d follow. Positive she must look agog, she shrunk back trying to make herself invisible. So Sam’s wife wasn’t a nice lady. Now she really wondered what happened to her.

“Look.” Jesse jabbed
an extended index finger
toward Sam. “We grew up together through the worst of times. Your piece-of-shit daddy using you and your mama as punching bags, mine no better. How many days and nights did you and me camp out at Mama’s, talking up our dreams? Then in comes Elise, some perky blond bombshell of a teen, with a black eye and major attitude. Never knew why Mama Reine let her come around.”

“Why? Because Mama was a saint of a woman who opened up her home to all us local beggars, every time and anytime we needed a safe place to hide.” Sam leaned forward and whispered the last part. “She said every child deserved a chance. But it was still our own choice how we wanted to turn out.”

“But you tumbled head over heels in love with her, just a kid tailing her like a love-starved mangy puppy. She was wild, and what she did, she always did for Elise. And no one else mattered, whether you’ll admit it or not. How many times did she lie to you? Some fancy trinket only a rich man could afford. She showed up wearing it. Always said she found it, or was given to her. Don’t even try to deny it. You know as well as I, she’d steal anything not nailed down.” Jesse leaned forward and dumped his empty bottle on the table.

“Why do we have to rehash this? She’s dead, okay.”

Marcie froze and stared down at her plastic cup. His wife was a thief, a whore, and she was dead. She didn’t know what to say. So she firmed her lips tight and hoped one of them would break the silence.

“Marcie if you’re tired, just leave all this mess and turn in. I threw one of my shirts on the bed for you to sleep in.” Sam jumped up and hastily grabbed the remnants and packaging from their feast, stuffing all in a plastic bag. “Jesse, you mind dumping this in the trash on your way out.”

Jesse hefted his stocky frame out of the burgundy chair. “Marcie, good night to you, I’ll come by in the morning and see about finding out who you are.”

“Thank you Jesse, for dinner. You’ve been very thoughtful. I appreciate it.” His soft, dark eyes swam with a considerate emotion before he winked. Then he moved past Sam taking the garbage with him.