Wife With Amnesia

Her first thought was that the man looked ordinary—like someone she might pass on the street or see in line at the bank or the grocery store. Early to midfifties, she estimated. The baseball cap covered his forehead and most of his hair, except for the straggly ends that hung around his too-narrow face. His nose was long, slightly crooked, and his lips curled into what she considered a cruel twist. Shifting her attention to his eyes, a chill chased down her spine. There was something about his eyes…something lifeless and cold in the way they stared up at her…that licked at the edges of her memory—and made her heart begin to pound with fear.

“Does he look familiar, Mrs. Gallagher?”

Claire yanked her gaze from the sketch to the detective. “No,” she said quickly and shoved the picture back at him. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she tried to shake off the fear that had raced along her nerve endings when she’d looked into those cold evil eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t recognize him.”

“Are you sure? For a moment, I thought—”

“She said she doesn’t remember,” Matt said, sliding a protective arm around her shoulders.

“I’m sure,” Claire told the detective. She leaned against Matt, grateful for his presence after her reaction to the man’s picture. Noting the detective’s skeptical expression, she said, “I don’t recognize him. If it seemed otherwise, it’s because seeing his face and knowing that he attacked me shook me for a moment. But I honestly don’t remember him.”

“Perhaps something will come back to you later,” the detective suggested. He tucked the notepad and drawing back into his coat pocket. “In the meantime, we’ll start circulating his picture on the streets, see if we’re able to get a lead on the guy.”

“I want the man who did this to my wife behind bars, Detective Delvecchio.”

“So do we, Mr. Gallagher. Unfortunately, due to your wife’s amnesia, we don’t have a whole lot to go on.”

“You have an eyewitness and a sketch of what the man looks like,” Matt pointed out.

“And we’re pursuing both of those leads. But even if we do come up with a suspect and are able to make an arrest, we’re going to need your wife to identify him as the man who attacked her.”

“Which I can’t do unless my memory returns,” Claire said aloud as the full impact of her situation hit her again.

“I’m afraid so, ma’am.”

The neurologist that Matt had brought in had told her that her memory could come back tomorrow, next month or even a year from now. Or it may never come back at all. The thought of not being able to remember the bits and pieces that made up her life, that made up who she was, caused the ever-present knot in her stomach to twist a little tighter.

“You’ve got to give yourself some time. It’s only been a few days,” Matt told her as though, once again, he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“Yes. I’m sure you’re right.” But the few days already felt like an eternity.

“Thank you again for your time, Mrs. Gallagher.”

“You’re welcome, Detective,” she said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to be of more help.”

“Like your husband said, it’s only been a few days. But if you should remember something, anything at all about what happened that night, I’d appreciate it if you would get in touch with me.”

“I’ll do that,” she assured him, and took the business card he offered.

He inclined his head toward Matt. “Mr. Gallagher.”

“Detective.” Matt shook the other man’s hand, then ushered him toward the door. “I’d like you to keep me informed of any progress you make.”

“Of course.” Detective Delvecchio started to leave, then paused. He rubbed at his jaw, and Claire could have sworn she saw speculation in the man’s hazel eyes as he looked from Matt to her and back again.

“Was there something else, Detective?” Matt asked.

“I understand your wife is going to be discharged from the hospital tomorrow.”

“That’s right,” Matt replied. “The neurologist recommended she stay an additional night for observation, but she should be released sometime tomorrow. Why?”

“I’m probably just being overcautious, but it might be a good idea if she isn’t left alone at home until we catch this guy.”

“She won’t be. I’ll be with her. And when I’m not, my housekeeper or someone in my family will be staying with her.”

“Is that really necessary?” Claire asked.

“It’s just a precaution, ma’am. But I think it’s better if you have someone with you until we find this guy and put him behind bars.”

Alarms went off in Claire’s head. “Why?” she asked, an uneasy feeling skittering down her spine.

“Like I said, it’s just a precaution,” Delvecchio told her.

Claire narrowed her eyes, stared at the burly police detective. “I wouldn’t think that sort of precaution is necessary in a mugging case. Is there something you haven’t told me, Detective?”

“Red, you heard the man. It’s just a precaution.”

Ignoring Matt, she pressed on. “Detective?”

“Call it the gut feeling of an old cop. I just think it would be a good idea if you’re not left alone.”

“She won’t be,” Matt said, and started to usher the detective out of the room.

“Detective, wait. Do you think he’s going to come after me again?”

He hesitated. “He shouldn’t. From all indications you were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, the victim of a random mugging.”

“Is that what you think it is? A random mugging?”

“What he thinks doesn’t matter,” Matt insisted. “No one’s going to hurt you again.”

Dismissing the angry look Matt shot the detective, Claire persisted. “Detective Delvecchio, I’m asking for your professional opinion—that gut feeling you mentioned. Do you think the attack on me wasn’t random and that he might come after me again?”

“Right now I have no reason to believe it was anything more than what it appears to be and this feeling in my gut is just indigestion. If that’s the case, the guy is probably long gone and won’t bother you again,” he informed her.

“But?” Claire prompted.

“But on the off chance that I’m wrong, and my gut is right, this wasn’t a random mugging, I’d rather err on the side of caution and make sure that you’re protected.”

Claire could feel the color drain from her cheeks. She fisted her fingers in the sheets. A shudder ran through her as she thought of those cold eyes in the police sketch. “But you said he stole my wallet. What makes you think his goal was more than robbery?”

“Delvecchio, why don’t we discuss this outside?” Matt suggested.

“No,” Claire returned. Ignoring Matt’s scowl, she said, “I’d appreciate an answer to my question.” When he didn’t answer, Claire said, “Detective Delvecchio, I may have lost my memory, but I haven’t lost my brain or my ability to think. Since I’m the one who was attacked, I believe I have a right to know why you think I might still be in danger.”

The detective sighed. “To be frank, ma’am, I find it strange that this guy would attack you as he did and just take your purse. According to the report from the hospital admitting clerk, you were wearing some pricy jewelry when they brought you in—jewelry that could have been fenced for a nice chunk of change. If fast cash was his motive, why didn’t he take it?”

“Maybe he was scared off. You said that this Mrs. Williams witnessed the whole thing. Or maybe he didn’t have time to finish the job because she surprised him.”