down, Sheriff,” he said, signaling to the bed. “You look a little pale.”
Tyler sat, leaning forward, hands clasped together in an automatic position of prayer. He found it comforting that one thing he most certainly hadn’t forgotten was his unwavering faith in God. This particular memory must be tucked away nice and deep where no amount of injury could reach.
Tyler looked at the doctor and laughed. “Either I’m getting older or doctors are getting younger. You can’t be more than twenty years old.”
The doctor smiled. “I’m twenty-five years old, Sheriff Beck. My name is Dr. Wayne Sinclair.”
Tyler widened his eyes in shock. “No way! You’re Bob Sinclair’s boy from Addenbrook Farm? The last time I saw you, you were just out of high school. You look all grown up.”
Dr. Sinclair sat on a chair and wheeled it with his feet across the floor. He positioned himself close to Tyler and took a tiny flashlight from his top pocket.
“I left school a good few years ago, sir. I’m a newly qualified doctor now. The hospital’s attending physician thought that I should be the one to treat you because you’ve known me my whole life.” He shone the light into Tyler’s eyes. “We hoped it might trigger some recent memories. You came to my wedding last year. Do you remember?”
Tyler shook his head. “I’m trying hard, but nothing’s coming back.”
The doctor leaned away from his patient. “While we couldn’t detect any obvious damage on your brain scan, it would seem that your temporal lobe has suffered an impairment that can’t be seen. This would account for the loss of memory. I understand that the last thing you remember is being on a Navy SEAL mission in Afghanistan, right?”
“That’s right, but I’ve been told this was almost seven years ago.” He gave a groan of frustration. “I just can’t get my head around it.”
The doctor touched his arm in a calming gesture. “I understand. The brain is a highly complex piece of machinery, and we simply don’t know why or where your recent memories have gone. But the good news is that most memory loss of this type is recovered spontaneously. It’s just a question of time.”
Tyler rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. The painkillers had dulled the throbbing of his temples, but he still felt them pulsating, like hammer blows through cotton balls. “How much time?”
“That’s the million-dollar question,” the doctor replied. “Let’s give it a week or two, and if nothing seems to be coming back, we’ll start you on a program of rehabilitation.” He stood. “In the meantime, there’s somebody who’s been waiting anxiously in the corridor to see you.”
“Who?”
“Deputy Joanna Graham. I think it’s a good idea for you to speak with her. She might be able to help you recall some of the last few years you’ve been in Godspeed. It’s worth a try.”
Dr. Sinclair opened the door to reveal Joanna leaning against the wall, hands shoved deep in her pockets, staring solemnly at the floor. Festive gold tinsel hung limply along the wall behind her, looking as sad and tired as she did. When she looked up and saw Tyler sitting in his hospital room, she gave him a broad smile, triggering a sensation of warmth in his chest. He began to wonder if they had ever been romantically linked. Would he know if they were dating?
The doctor stepped out. “I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll come back later.”
Now was Tyler’s perfect opportunity to fill in some of those gaps.
“Come on in, Deputy,” he said. “It’s nice to see a familiar face.”
* * *
Joanna wasn’t sure how to treat Sheriff Beck. He was still her superior, yet he was somehow vulnerable and brought out a feeling of tenderness in her. It was an instinct she had fought long and hard to suppress, since she was always living on borrowed time, never knowing if she had fifty years left to live or fifty days.
She decided to keep it professional. That’s what Tyler would want.
“The SWAT team arrived at the prison just a little too late to catch any of the gang members alive,” she said. “They recovered seven bodies, and the lab equipment had been destroyed by gunfire. The police are sifting through it all for evidence.”
Tyler approached her. He was tall and wide, and often reminded her of a pro wrestler, despite his boyish face. Since his election in Godspeed, he’d become known as the baby-faced sheriff and was popular with everyone, particularly the ladies, whom Tyler could charm to the moon and back.
“Before we continue this conversation,” he said, “there’s something I need to ask.”
“Shoot.”
He shifted on his feet. “It’s a little awkward.”
She guessed what he was getting at. “You want to know if we’re...um...you know.”
“Yes,” he said quickly. “Are we dating?” He looked uncomfortable. “Or have we dated in the past? It’s just that I get this feeling around you...” He broke off and laughed. “I feel stupid having to ask.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “We did go on a few dates about a year back, but it never worked out. It wasn’t serious. We never even kissed.”
“I see. So we still manage to work together and get along?”
“Sort of,” she replied diplomatically. “We have disagreements occasionally, but who doesn’t?” In truth she and Sheriff Beck made sparks fly but for all the wrong reasons. “You’re a man who prefers to play things by the book, and I play a little too fast and loose for your liking.” She bumped her clenched fists lightly together. “We kinda clash sometimes.”
At first their differences had been exciting, but after a while it had become obvious that they were fundamentally incompatible and mutually decided to end their fledgling romance. But their attraction to each other had never waned, and oftentimes she felt electricity crackle between them. Sheriff Beck regarded her as a risk taker, too reckless, too willing to put herself in the line of fire. But she didn’t care.
After an aggressive form of breast cancer had almost ended her life, she had quit her job as a biochemist in Boston and returned to her hometown of Godspeed to train as a local law-enforcement officer. Her parents couldn’t quite believe she was throwing away her Ivy League education to become a sheriff’s deputy, but she needed to feel more alive, more exhilarated. She needed to mask the dread she felt inside, knowing that her cancer could return to snatch her away at any moment. So she had jumped at the opportunity to go undercover in one of the most notorious criminal gangs in the Midwest. Tyler hadn’t wanted her to take the assignment. He’d said that she wasn’t ready, but she relished the chance to put herself at the heart of danger. She wanted to live every day as though it were her last.
Tyler’s face creased in thought. “I guess if we dated, you must know a lot about me. Why did I leave the SEALs to come back to Godspeed?” He looked down at his uniform. “Why did I swap black ops for writing traffic tickets?”
“Actually,” she said, “you do way more than write traffic tickets. Missouri has one of the worst meth problems in the US, and Godspeed has lost way too many residents
