Chapter Two
His questions slammed into her, stealing the breath from her chest. An image flashed through her mind . . . pudgy legs, tiny little toes kicking her hand away as she tried to slip the shoe on her child’s foot and fasten the bright pink Velcro straps.
Her daughter. Her baby!
A deep, intense, agonizing pain swept through her. She didn’t know anything else, but she knew with complete and utter certainty that she had a little girl. She closed her eyes, desperate to see her daugh-ter’s face, to know her baby’s name, but the blackness in her brain refused to lift. Her past remained just out of sight.
“Miss?”
She opened her eyes and saw Officer Manning staring back at her with a grim expression. “I have a little girl,” she said, hearing the wonder in her own voice.
His gaze narrowed. “Was your child in the car, then? Did you just remember something?”
“I-I know I have a daughter,” she stammered. “In my head I could see myself putting on that shoe. But I have no idea if she was with me.”
“What’s her name?”
She bit down on her bottom lip as the truth hit her hard. “I don’t know.” Good God! What kind of mother couldn’t remember her own baby’s name? “I have to get up. I have to find her.” She sat up straight, intent on getting out of bed, but the officer barred her way.
“Easy, now. From what I understand you’re in no condition to go anywhere,” he said. “And where would you go—if you don’t remember anything?”
His sharp, challenging gaze settled on hers. He was right. She didn’t know where to go. But she couldn’t just sit in this bed when her child could be in trouble.
“Why don’t you tell me what you can remember?” Officer Manning suggested. “Even if it’s just flashes of memory. Bits and pieces can make up a whole picture.”
She closed her eyes again and took a deep breath. There was nothing but an empty void in her head, darkness so overwhelming she was afraid that it would swallow her up. Opening her eyes, she grabbed the railing of her bed, feeling the need to hang on to something solid. A wave of dizziness sent the room spinning around and around. She blinked several times, trying to focus on the badge on the deputy’s chest.
She flashed on another image.
A man pulled a badge out of his inside suit pocket. She was shocked to learn he wasn’t who he’d said he was. He’d lied to her. Now she was in trouble. And it wasn’t just his badge that told her that; it was his smug expression, the look in his eyes that said he had her right where he wanted her, cornered and scared and very, very alone.
“Miss, are you all right? Should I call for the nurse?”
The deputy’s voice brought her back to reality. She looked up at him, wondering if he was really there to help her, or if he had a hidden agenda. Was he the faceless man from her memory? Or just who he’d said he was—the officer investigating her car accident? How could she know? She glanced at the closed door behind him, wondering if there was anyone on the other side who would come to her aid.
The deputy’s eyes narrowed as the silence between them lengthened. He wouldn’t have offered to call for the nurse if he were worried about being discovered in her room. And the doctor had obviously already met him. She was being paranoid. “I’m all right,” she said belatedly.
“What did you remember?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly, wondering why her first instinct was to lie. But she didn’t have time to analyze that now. The deputy was waiting. “I can’t remember anything about my daughter or myself. I
wish to God I could.”
“So do I,” the deputy said heavily.
She heard the deep note of concern in his voice. “What aren’t you telling me?” she asked.
He stared back at her for a long moment, then said, “We found the child’s shoe a few yards from the car. It’s possible it flew out during the crash, since the back door was jammed open. Or . . .”
“Or what?” she asked as he paused a moment too long. A terrible fear swept through her. “Or what?” she repeated.
“Depending on your daughter’s age, it’s possible that she got out of the seat and wandered away. That’s why I’d like to verify whether or not she was in the car with you at the time of the accident.”
“Oh, my God!”
“Take it easy,” the deputy said quickly. “We have a search party in the canyon right now. Everything that can be done is being done. What I need from you is as much information as I can possibly get about your daughter.”