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       Chapter Two

      It was her college graduation party all over again. Or, rather, the aftermath of it. Maggie’s head was pounding. Worse than the hangover she’d had after her roommate, Barb, had decided bringing cake-flavored vodka was a good idea. While it had been a hit at the time, Maggie had felt like she was the one who had been hit the next day.

      Which was how she felt as she sat on a hospital bed, staring at an IV in one arm and a pair of handcuffs around her other wrist. It connected her to the hospital bed and, according to a deputy she didn’t know, had been an order. It was one of many things that had confused her since she’d come to in an ambulance, staring up at a woman asking her what her name was and if she could hear her.

      While Maggie knew the hospital staff was doing all they could to make sure she was getting the treatment she needed, they sure as heck hadn’t bothered to fill her in on a few details. Like why she’d wound up in an ambulance to begin with, where she had been before the ambulance had been called and why she was barefoot. That last detail, of all things, irrationally bothered her more than the rest. Because, much like the aftermath of her graduation party, she seemed to be missing a chunk of memory. This time, though, she hadn’t the faintest idea what had prompted it.

      A knock sounded on the door before a nurse pushed it open.

      “How are you doing, Ms. Carson?”

      A redheaded woman with bold lipstick and an easy smile slid into the room. When her gaze went to the handcuffs that smile tightened. Maggie decided to address the obvious.

      “I’d really like to not be handcuffed,” she said. “And to not be in the hospital. Neither were on my to-do list today. Or, at least I don’t remember them if they were.”

      The nurse gravitated over to the IV.

      “The cuffs I can’t help,” she admitted. “But what I can do is ask how your head is feeling. So, Ms. Carson, how is your head?” She met Maggie’s stare. It was a look that was equal parts concerned and authoritative. She was trying to do her job and Maggie was being snarky. She sighed.

      “There are few people in this world who ever use my last name and usually it’s when they’re about to yell at me. So, please, call me Maggie. But on the head-hurting front, it’s throbbing. Not as bad as before, but it’s there.”

      The nurse looked at Maggie’s chart.

      “And you’re still having trouble with recall?”

      Maggie nodded. It hurt.

      “I’m also having trouble understanding why my head hurts in the first place.” Maggie lowered her voice, trying to convey something she often tried to hide. Vulnerability. “Because no one, and I mean no one, has told me what happened to me since I woke up in an ambulance with my shirt and bra cut open and monitors stuck to my chest. So, please—” Maggie glanced down at the woman’s name tag “—Nurse Bean, give me something.”

      For a moment the nurse looked like she was going to shake her head and try to offer another polite smile. Instead, she surprised Maggie by answering.

      “To be honest, I just started my shift so I don’t know all of the details. What I do know is that you being knocked out wasn’t an accident.” Her lips thinned. “But as for who did it, why and where... I’m sorry. Those are questions I can’t answer.”

      Maggie’s stomach turned cold. She knew she shouldn’t have been surprised that she had been attacked since it wasn’t every day she lost hours of memory, but having a nurse say it aloud was on the surreal side of uncomfortable.

      “Well, I guess I’m glad to know I didn’t wind up this way after tripping and bumping my head or anything,” Maggie deadpanned. Sarcasm was her safety blanket. The throbbing from her head now made a fraction of sense. That in itself should have been comforting. But it wasn’t. “Thank you for leveling with me,” she added on. “I don’t want to say I’m scared but, well, it’s not a good feeling to be me right now. Thanks.”

      The nurse gave a quick nod and smile of acceptance.

      “Like you, I prefer to go by my first name. So call me Kortnie.” She took the chart and started to turn away. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you.”

      Maggie was ready to let her go and wait for someone who did know the inside scoop but then the cold steel of the handcuffs against her skin brought her attention to one more question.

      “You have to at least know why I’m handcuffed, right?”

      Kortnie’s smile faltered.

      “That’s a question you should ask Detective Walker.”

      * * *

      “IS HE GOING to make it?”

      Matt roused from the large square tile he’d been standing on for what felt like hours. It was outside Dwayne’s room and was better than standing and staring inside it. Matt didn’t like hospitals. Or, really, he didn’t like the helplessness that came with them. He couldn’t help Dwayne in his current condition. He couldn’t make him heal any faster. He couldn’t make him survive. All he could do was help from where he hovered and tried to puzzle out what had happened the night before. Not that he’d had much success in that department.

      The sheriff repeated his question with an added inflection of empathy. He wasn’t as close to the retired detective as Matt but he knew him well enough to grab the occasional drink or watch a football game or two together.

      “He’s out of the immediate woods but his injuries are extensive,” Matt answered, dragging a hand down his face. “He still hasn’t woken up and, if I read the doc’s body language correctly, there’s a good chance he might not. Or, if he does, he might not be the same Dwayne we knew. There was some bleeding on the brain.” Billy cursed beneath his breath. Matt let him finish before he continued, “So unless the crime scene yielded some incredible results, our only way of knowing what happened might be down there. And, like I told you on the phone last night, according to her doctor she’s having short-term memory issues.”

      He pointed in the direction of Maggie Carson’s room. She’d been transferred out of the ER a few hours ago.

      The sheriff followed his finger.

      “Have you talked to her yet?” Billy asked.

      Matt shook his head. Frustration, anger and more frustration sprang up at just the thought of the woman.

      “When we first came in I stuck with Dwayne,” he admitted. “By the time he was stable and put in his room, she was getting CAT scans. Then she was out, thanks to some pain meds. I was going to wait until the morning to talk to her.” Matt really took in the sheriff’s appearance. He couldn’t help but smirk. “And considering there’s applesauce on your blazer, I’m assuming it’s morning.”

      Billy looked down at the smudge and sighed but in no way seemed angry.

      “What can I say? Alexa and I have a routine. She wakes up early and we negotiate how much applesauce she’s going to eat.” He motioned to the stain. “It’s a messy business. I’ve dealt with seasoned criminals that were easier to crack than this toddler.”

      There was pride clear and true in the way Billy spoke of his daughter. It matched his unconditional love for his wife, Mara. Which was one of the reasons so many residents of Riker County took a shine to him.