Christmas Amnesia. Laura Scott
Assistant district attorney Madison Callahan hesitated on the concrete steps of the Milwaukee County Courthouse, shivering in the cold breeze coming off Lake Michigan. Had she heard something? Or was she letting her imagination run wild?
Working late and leaving at nine o’clock at night wasn’t unusual, but for some undefined reason she hesitated. Giving herself a mental shake, she continued down the stairs, careful to avoid any icy patches.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she instinctively headed toward the reassuring streetlight, digging in her purse for her phone. Normally she walked the three-quarters of a mile to her condo, but since the hour was late, she decided to pull up the ride-sharing app on her phone.
She was moments from confirming her pickup location for her ride when strong arms yanked her backward, causing her to drop the phone. She sucked in a breath to scream, but the arms tightened crushingly around her. The sharp edge of a blade pressed painfully against her throat.
“Drop the case or you will all die, including the two old ladies in the house on the hill.”
Maddy froze, her mind grappling with what was happening. Two old ladies had to be referring to her mother and grandmother, but how did this guy know where her family lived?
She forced herself to speak. “Did Alexander Pietro send you?”
The blade pressed deeper, causing her to suck in a harsh breath from the sharp pain. Something warm trickled over her skin. Blood? Was this man going to slit her throat right here?
Headlights swept over the road, brightening as a vehicle approached, but before she could be relieved that help had arrived, the man holding her suddenly gave her a hard shove, causing her head to crack soundly against the solid steel of the light post.
Pain exploded in her temple and she felt herself falling, arms flailing as she sought to break her fall. Her last fleeting thought was that she needed to find a way to keep her mother and grandmother safe. If anything happened to them, she’d never be able to live with herself.
* * *
“Ma’am? Can you hear me?”
She moaned and blinked, the light overhead painfully bright. Her head was pounding so hard she thought she might throw up. “Yes,” she croaked. “I can hear you.”
“That’s good.” An older guy, with salt-and-pepper hair and thick black-rimmed glasses, filled her field of vision. He was blurry initially, but then became clear. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Huh?” Moving her head hurt too much, so she stared at the man. He was dressed in green scrubs, a stethoscope wrapped around his neck.
“Your name,” he repeated patiently. “There wasn’t any ID found at the scene.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it again. Of course she knew her name. Didn’t she? The pain in her head quadrupled and she winced, closing her eyes and swallowing hard, willing the contents of her stomach to stay put.
Panic gripped her throat, making it impossible to breathe. Why couldn’t she tell this man her name? What was wrong? Could it be that the pain was making her confused?
Forcing her eyelids open, she stared at the stranger looming over her. Concern darkened his gaze.
“We need to get a CT scan of her brain,” he said to someone nearby. “Make sure there isn’t any intracranial bleeding.”
If pain was a good way to judge potential bleeding, then she was all for the brain scan. But even as the hospital staff wheeled her over to the radiology department, she couldn’t ignore the strange sense of urgency that weighed heavily on her chest. She needed to get up and out of here; there was something very important for her to do.
But what? There was nothing but a dark void where her sense of self should have been.
Not just her name, but all of her memories were missing, lost in the swirling vortex of black pain.
Thankfully the scan didn’t take long. As she was being wheeled through the hallway back to the ER, at least what she assumed was an ER, a handsome man wearing a navy blue police uniform caught her gaze.
“Maddy? You’re the mugging victim? What happened?”
She stared at him for a moment, hoping she’d recognize him. For some weird reason, the dark navy blue MPD uniform was reassuring.
Wait, MPD? Milwaukee Police Department? How did she know what the initials stood for? Why not Minneapolis or some other city?
No clue.
“Maddy,” he said again, crossing over and reaching for the side rail of her gurney. “What happened? Are you all right?”
It took her a long second to realize this man seemed to know her. “Maddy?” she echoed with a frown. “Is that my name?”
The officer’s face paled with alarm and he kept pace with the orderlies who were currently pushing her through the hallway. “You don’t know your name? Do you recognize me?” he asked.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, feeling as if she was letting this guy down. She hoped he wasn’t her boyfriend or someone she’d once dated. He was attractive, with his short blond hair and deep brown eyes, and she could easily imagine herself dating a guy who looked like him. “My head hurts.”
“Officer, you can’t come into her room,” the orderly said.
“Just try and stop me,” the cop said, his features etched in a fierce scowl. “I’m here to take her statement.”
“I’m getting Dr. Wagner.” The orderly disappeared, leaving her alone with the officer.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Noah Sinclair,” he said, his gaze expectant as if the words would spark some sort of memory.
They didn’t.
“You’re with the Milwaukee Police Department, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Yes. Maddy, I need to understand what happened. Who did this to you?”
“I don’t know what happened.” Boy, was she sick and tired of saying that! “All I know is that I woke up here, in the hospital with