Lone Star Christmas Rescue. Margaret DaleyЧитать онлайн книгу.
her eyes closed, desperate for any memory of who she was. She pictured herself standing on a mountaintop, scanning the valley below. Where was she? She couldn’t tell. Was it a real place or merely her imagination?
A void held her, like an insect in amber. Caged. She felt empty, with no past to tell her who she was. The sensation of being in the middle of an ocean with only miles and miles of water surrounding her flooded her mind. Nothing for as far as she could see.
Her heartbeat raced, and her breathing shortened until she panted for each swallow of air.
“Miss, are you all right?” the nurse asked while the Texas Ranger moved closer.
His nearness surprisingly didn’t frighten her. Instead, it comforted her as she sucked in gulps of the oxygen-rich air. She couldn’t lose it. That wouldn’t help her find out what happened. “I’ll—be—okay,” she managed to say between gasps.
Another minute passed before she felt in control of her breathing. She needed to talk alone with the Texas Ranger about how he found her. Maybe that would help her remember.
And she needed to find out about the baby from her dreams. She couldn’t remember being a mother or married, but then, she couldn’t remember anything of her past.
She turned her attention to the nurse. “I’d like to talk to the doctor whenever he comes.”
“I’ll let him know.”
“Thanks.” She waited until the nurse left the room before swinging her gaze back to the intensity in Drake Jackson’s blue eyes, totally focused on her. Strangely, she didn’t feel intimidated. “How did you find me? You said I had a baby with me. Where is he?”
One eyebrow rose. “You know it’s a boy. Do you know his name?”
Why had she said he? It just came out. “No. I can’t remember anything.”
“Your fingerprints were taken and run through the system, but nothing has come up yet.”
Instead of disappointment that they couldn’t ID her, relief fluttered through her. “I should be thankful. That means I haven’t been in trouble with the law, at least.”
He chuckled. “Fingerprints are on file from other sources beside the criminal system.”
The soft sound of his laughter warmed her, making her feel less alone.
“To answer your questions about where the baby is, he’s in the hospital, too.”
She sat up straight, this time without the room swirling. “He’s hurt?”
“Dehydrated, like you. He’ll be released soon.”
“Then what?”
“That depends on you. The state will take charge if you can’t show he’s yours. We’ll run a search for Baby Doe’s identity.”
“Don’t!” she said before she could stop herself.
“Don’t? Do you know how he came to be in your possession?” Drake inched closer to the woman’s hospital bed. His earlier impression of her had been fear and confusion, both understandable if her memory was affected by her injury. Or was that a ruse? What if she’d kidnapped the baby and come up with an amnesia cover story to delay an explanation? “Why don’t you want to know the child’s identity?”
“I—I do, but...” She looked away, staring at the door. “I can’t shake the feeling something’s wrong here.”
“Like what?”
Her gaze locked with his. “I don’t know.” She fumbled with her sack of belongings, clasping it against her chest.
The anguish in her voice sounded genuine. As a Texas Ranger, Drake had to consider all angles of a situation. He’d seen a lot in his fifteen years working in law enforcement. If he couldn’t remember who he was or what had happened, he would feel the same way. He wanted to believe her but... “Maybe your clothing will help you remember something.” People with a traumatic brain injury could suffer total or partial amnesia that could be permanent or temporary. He didn’t think she was faking, but he couldn’t completely dismiss that possibility.
She unrolled the top of the paper bag and glanced inside. For a long moment, she remained quiet, then she slowly reached inside and pulled out her dirty white shirt. Next came the jeans, socks and shoes. She checked every pocket and withdrew money from the front one. After she counted the three hundred dollars, she murmured, “I have this but no ID. Why?”
Instead of finding any answers, Drake only discovered more questions. “I don’t know. Is that all in the sack?”
“That’s all.” She turned the bag upside down, and a gold necklace plopped onto her blanket. Her eyes grew wide. “I didn’t see that.”
Drake started to reach for the piece of jewelry, stopped and brought his arm back to his side. His gaze latched on to a letter carved into the oval locket. “I think it opens.”
With trembling hands, she picked up the delicate chain and palmed the golden ornament. With her stare fixed on it, she slowly opened it and gasped. “I think this may be a photo of me. Is it?” She touched her face as though her fingers could discern the answer by feel. She passed the necklace to him, her forehead scrunched.
She continued to shake, and all he wanted to do was comfort and reassure her everything would be all right. But he couldn’t. He had no idea what was going on. He had to remain detached, professional.
How did she know what she looked like if she couldn’t remember who she was? Slowly he examined the two photos in the locket. “This is you, and the picture of the baby is the same little boy you had with you.”
“So I must be his mother.” A quaver flowed through each word.
“Probably. You’re connected somehow. How did you know what you look like?”
“I...” She shook her head slowly. “I remember dreaming of this baby and me being in trouble.”
He studied the pictures, then the woman he’d rescued. He saw similarities between them, but the child’s coloring was darker, possibly of Hispanic descent. “What trouble?”
She closed her eyes, her head dropping forward.
Had she lost consciousness again? Or was she pretending?
Her eyes suddenly opened wide. “Right before I woke up, I remembered a vague image of me running with him clutched in my arms.”
“Why were you running?”
Her large brown eyes, filled with bewilderment, lifted to his. “I don’t know.”
“Does the photo of the baby spark any other memories?”
“No, but maybe if I see him, it will.”
“I’ll let the nursing staff know. He’s still being given fluids through an IV.”
“What hospital am I in?”
“Cactus Grove Hospital.”
She frowned.
“Does Cactus Grove, Texas, sound familiar to you?”
“No. Is this where you live?”
“Yes, outside town on a family ranch. Cactus Grove, along Interstate 10, has about forty thousand residents.” He gave the necklace back to the woman. “Does the engraved letter K on the locket mean anything to you? The initial of your first name?”
She fiddled with the piece of jewelry, rubbing her thumb over the letter. “Not sure. Maybe?”
“Or your last name?”
She shook her head. “No idea,