Desperate Strangers. Carla Cassidy

Desperate Strangers - Carla  Cassidy


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knew it, we’d hit the tree.”

      “I’m surprised you aren’t hurt since your airbag didn’t deploy,” Officer Brown replied. Nick’s stomach muscles clenched. Did the man suspect something wasn’t right? A vision of Brian McDowell, bloody and dead, exploded in Nick’s brain.

      “Was there any alcohol involved here tonight?”

      “No, none.” He hoped like hell Julie Peterson wasn’t a drunk.

      “And specifically what is your relationship to Ms. Peterson?”

      “Fiancé. I’m her fiancé.” The words blurted out of him without thought of consequence. He just wanted to be allowed to leave.

      “Can I see some identification?”

      “I’m sorry, I don’t have any on me. I ran out of the house to stop her and didn’t think to grab my wallet.”

      “Your name?” The officer took down Nick’s name and address, and then patted him on the back. “The tow truck will take care of the car and I’ll get you to the hospital. I’m sure you’re worried sick about her.”

      The hospital? His web of lies coalesced to form an imaginary noose around his neck. When Julie Peterson regained consciousness, all his lies could potentially result in a real noose around his neck for the murder of Brian McDowell.

      The ride to North Kansas City Hospital took only fifteen minutes and, during that time, Officer Brown talked about the hot weather and how the humid, intense heat made people snap.

      “Crime is always up during a heat wave like this,” he said. “Thank God the weathermen are predicting a few cooler days next week.” He shot Nick a quick glance. “You’re a bit overdressed for July.”

      Once again Nick’s heartbeat raced to a sickly pace as his brain struggled to make a rational response. “I have to wear warm clothes whenever I go to Julie’s place. I swear that woman keeps her thermostat at fifty degrees during the summer.”

      Officer Brown chuckled. “My wife and I fight over the thermostat in our house all the time.”

      They parked at the hospital and, to Nick’s dismay, Officer Brown accompanied him inside the emergency waiting area. “Julie Peterson was just brought in by ambulance,” Officer Brown told the woman at the receptionist desk. “Please let her doctor know I’ve got her fiancé here with me.”

      “I appreciate your help,” Nick said to him as he sank down into one of the chairs.

      “It’s my job.” The officer sat in the chair next to Nick’s.

      Nick had hoped to shake the man and get out of there. Even though the cop had his name and address, he seriously doubted there would be any follow-up on the accident. But there would definitely be follow-up when Julie Peterson told everyone she didn’t have a fiancé and she’d never seen Nick before in her life.

      His stomach muscles twisted into a dozen painful knots as his mind displayed a horrifying picture of Brian McDowell. He’d scarcely had time to process that scene when the car crash had occurred.

      And now he sat, next to a police officer, with a ski mask, gloves and a gun in his pocket that he’d intended to use for committing a murder. When Julie awakened and denied knowing him, would he be frisked?

      The two men sat side-by-side for the next hour. Officer Brown made small talk and Nick could only hope he responded as a worried fiancé, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the gun in his pocket and the fact that he was seated next to a cop.

      Finally a tall, balding doctor walked into the waiting room and headed for Nick and Officer Brown. They both stood, although Nick was sure Tim Brown’s heart wasn’t beating as frantically, as desperately, as Nick’s. His wrists turned icy, as if feeling the cold bite of handcuffs around them.

      “How is she?” Nick asked after the doctor introduced himself as Dr. Mitch Carlson.

      “The good news is her physical injuries are relatively minor considering the circumstances. She has some bumps and bruises and a mild concussion,” Dr. Carlson replied.

      “Can I ask her a few questions?” Officer Brown asked.

      Dr. Carlson frowned. “Now I’ll tell you the bad news. She doesn’t remember anything about the accident.”

      Nick held his breath. Hopefully, Brown would leave with this news and he could get out of there within minutes. God, he needed to escape.

      “In fact,” Dr. Carlson continued, “the last memory she has is of her birthday party ten months ago. She can’t remember anything that happened between then and now. She’s been moved to a room for observation.” He turned to look at Nick. “I told her that her fiancé was here and she’s asking to see you.”

      “I’ll come with you,” Officer Brown said. “I’d just like to follow up with her.”

      Dr. Carlson nodded. “I’ll take you both to her room.”

      Nick followed the doctor and the police officer down a hallway with a sense of overwhelming dread. Was her strange amnesia real? Within seconds he’d find out. He’d either walk out of there with his lies intact or he’d be called out. With no good reason to be on the street where the accident had occurred, he’d eventually be tied to a murder he hadn’t committed.

      * * *

      JULIE PETERSON WAS AFRAID. She’d been afraid since she’d opened her eyes in the ambulance with no idea of what had happened to her or where she was.

      She’d been told she’d been in a car accident. The nurse had explained to her that her car had hit a tree. But those facts weren’t what scared her the most.

      Why couldn’t she remember the accident? More importantly, why was she missing ten months of memories? And since when did she have a fiancé?

      Surely when she saw the man she was in love with, her memories would come tumbling back. Maybe, when her head quit pounding so fiercely, she’d remember everything.

      She attempted to sit up as the doctor, a uniformed police officer and a tall stranger came into the room. “Julie, thank God you’re all right.” The very hot man clad in a pair of jeans and a black hoodie that clung to a pair of broad shoulders rushed to her side and picked up her hand.

      This man, with his forest-green eyes and handsome, chiseled features was her fiancé? How had she gotten so lucky? And why, oh, why, didn’t she remember anything about him?

      “It’s Nick, honey,” he said. “You don’t remember me?” Her anxiety must have shone on her face. “It’s okay. Everything is going to be just fine.” He released her hand and she immediately felt bereft.

      “Ms. Peterson, I’m Officer Brown. Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?”

      “No, I don’t mind, but I doubt I’ll be able to answer them,” she said. She wished Nick would take her hand again. Even though she couldn’t remember him, his hand around hers had brought her a small bit of comfort.

      And she needed to be comforted at this moment. As the officer asked her questions about the accident, she tried as hard as she could to remember even the smallest detail about what had happened. But there was nothing.

      “The last thing I remember is going to the Italian Gardens for my birthday. My parents were there, along with my brothers and my sister. But since my birthday is in two months from now, I’m missing almost a full year of memories.”

      A hollow wind blew through her as she shifted her gaze from the police officer to the doctor. “Is this kind of thing normal?” she asked, although she knew it wasn’t.

      “Sometimes it occurs that after a traumatic event like a car accident, the patient has no memories of that particular event,” Dr. Carlson replied. “It’s the way the brain protects you from emotional pain and trauma. I haven’t dealt with a patient who has the kind of amnesia we’re talking


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