clothes.â She set the bags on the end of the bed. âHello, Audrey.â
âMorning, Sarah. Howâs Rich?â
Sarahâs face softened. âHeâs good. Heâll be four next week.â
âWow. I hadnât realized.â A curious sadness entered Audreyâs eyes. âIâll stop by to wish him happy birthday.â
âHeâd like that. Thank you.â Sarah turned to John, her green eyes sharpening with attentiveness. âDo you need help dressing?â
âNo. I can manage on my own.â
Disappointment shot through Sarahâs gaze. âCall me if you need anything.â
âThanks.â He was glad when she exited. He met the deputyâs gaze. She didnât look pleased. âWhatâs Sarahâs story?â
âSheâs a widow, if thatâs what youâre asking,â Audrey replied in a tense voice.
âOkay, it wasnât. Iâm more interested in why you looked so sad when you were talking about Rich, who I assume is her son.â
Surprise flashed in Audreyâs eyes. âOh. Yes, Rich is her little boy. Heâs such a sweetie.â That sadness was back. âBen, Sarahâs husband, worked on a fishing boat. About two years ago there was an accident, and he was killed.â
Sympathy twisted in his gut. âThatâs too bad. Iâve watched those fishing reality shows, and that life seems brutal.â
Audreyâs eyebrows hiked up and anticipation blossomed in her gaze, no doubt hoping his memories were returning. âYou remember the show?â
He cocked his head, groping his mind for information. âYes, sort of. I know Iâve seen it, but I canât recall where or when.â And it was so maddening. He wanted to howl with frustration.
âGive it time,â she said as the light in her eyes turned slightly to disappointment. âYou heard my mom. Bits and pieces.â
âRight.â He had a feeling patience wasnât a strong suit of his, but he really didnât know. He opened one of the bags and glanced inside. A pile of dark material pooled in the bottom. Then he looked at the pretty deputy and arched an eyebrow.
âIâll wait outside.â Audreyâs cheeks pinkened as she walked out.
* * *
Audrey hesitated outside John Doeâs hospital room door and tried to calm the flutter in her stomach. So many thoughts and feelings were swirling through her at the moment. Empathy for John Doe. She couldnât imagine losing her memories of her father, her childhood, her life. She could only imagine how bleak and desperate the man must be feeling. Not to mention the pain that seemed to hit him every time he tried to remember.
Then there was the embarrassment of having her mother and John witness the acrimony between her and her great-uncle. She usually did a better job of refraining from showing her emotions in public.
She could only attribute her lack of control to the strange and forceful reactions that flared within her the moment John awoke. Beyond empathy, she felt an intense protectiveness, which had manifested in her strong defense of him. A part of her knew it was logical for the sheriff to take the man into custody, but putting him behind bars without any proof of wrongdoing didnât sit well with her sense of justice.
Hopefully John would soon regain his memories and they could figure out the truth behind what, who and why someone was trying to kill him.
* * *
Left alone, John withdrew his clothes and boots from the bags and stared at them for a long moment. He didnât remember putting these on. Why was he dressed all in black? For nefarious purposes?
He was thankful the garments were dry as he quickly donned the cargo pants, turtleneck and socks but struggled with the boots. Finally, giving up, he padded to the door and stuck his head out. Audrey and her great-uncle stood near the nursesâ station. The brunette noticed him first