a while, even though she’d already told Sam her real name. She could fake amnesia, tell him she didn’t know where the name had come from. But what if he was in on it? Was that the reason Vaughn hadn’t show up yet?
No, she had to leave. She stood on the floor, holding on to the bed while she tested her balance. She looked around for a closet and found it. If the closet contained her clothes, it would make it much easier to escape. She didn’t see them letting her out of the hospital dressed in this flimsy excuse for a nightshirt.
She moved step by step across the room. Her head hurt so much she was afraid any abrupt movement would make her pass out. She opened the door to reveal a pair of light blue jeans, a purple sweater, and a pair of white sneakers. None of the clothing looked familiar, but that couldn’t matter to her now. She had to leave as soon as possible.
She dressed as quickly as her aching head would allow. Every time she heard voices outside the door, she’d stop and listen, sure that any moment someone would catch her before she could make her escape.
Finally ready, she tiptoed to the door, opened it an inch and looked out. Once she ascertained that no one waited just outside, she opened the door wider and stepped from the room.
A candy striper came out of the room next door, making Adrienne’s heart pound in her chest. But the girl only smiled and continued on her way.
Seeing a sign that read Stairs, Adrienne headed for it. The pain in her head demanded an elevator, but she knew the stairway offered a safer exit.
Before she pushed open the heavy door, she looked around to make sure no one saw her. The deserted hallway eased her mind. She went through, making sure the door made no noise when it closed behind her.
Pain shot through her skull. She grabbed the railing to steady herself. She stood with eyes closed, waiting for the pain to pass. It could have been a moment or an hour. Time had lost its meaning.
When she could finally lift her lids, she saw the number two printed on the wall above her head. Grateful she had to walk down only one flight, she moved slowly down the steps.
Her luck held. She reached the bottom without seeing another soul and without losing consciousness. Although it had been touch-and-go there for a moment about halfway down.
She pushed the exit door open to find it led directly to the outside of the hospital.
She looked around. To her right was a parking lot, to her left a sidewalk lined with the cypress trees she’d thought so impressive when she’d arrived in Monterey. The light fog drifting around the trees made her shiver.
California had symbolized escape for her, being a whole country away from Boston. But once she’d arrived, she had fallen in love at first sight with the Central Coast. Now, Vaughn had ruined even that for her.
She breathed in the cool air in an attempt to clear her mind. It helped somewhat, but her head still ached.
For want of a better plan, she decided to start walking. She set off down the sidewalk in the direction she hoped would take her downtown. She could get a cab there. With each step she tried to remember the name of the hotel she’d checked into. Telling the taxi driver that it was near the beach wouldn’t do much good.
Fatigue set in almost immediately. Each foot she walked felt like a yard, each yard like a block. The hammering inside her head became intense. Her mouth felt dry, her body numb. She wanted a drink and a bed, not necessarily in that order. She glanced up, trying to get her bearings, and spotted a diner about a half block up the street.
Well, they wouldn’t have a bed, but they would have something to drink. She searched the pockets of her jeans and came up with three dollar bills. Hallelujah! A nice, cold soft drink would set her back on her feet.
Jubilant, she covered the half block as quickly as her tired legs would take her. Inside, she asked the waitress for a booth at the back and ordered a large cola. The drink served, she took a long sip, then laid her head against the back of the seat and closed her eyes. She had to remember the name of the motel.
SAM RETURNED to Amy’s room a half hour after he’d left it. Dr. Yamana had told him to let her rest, but he couldn’t stand the waiting any longer. After what had happened to her when he’d left her alone last time, he didn’t want her out of his sight. Especially since she thought she was someone called Adrienne Winston. Where in heaven’s name had she picked up that?
He pushed the door open quietly and moved into the room, being careful not to wake her. A curtain shielded the bed from his sight. He tiptoed around it, then stopped abruptly. She wasn’t there.
Sam didn’t know how long he stared at the empty bed. Probably only seconds. Long enough for the panic that had dissipated when Amy had opened her eyes to return full force. “Where the hell is she?”
Silence was his only answer as he searched the floor on each side of the bed, then the bathroom. “I knew I shouldn’t have left her alone.” He exited the room and strode to the nurse’s station. Two women sat going over a patient’s chart. “Where is Amy Delaney?” he demanded, causing them to jump.
The older woman stood. “Please keep your voice down, sir.” Her stern tone reminded him of his fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. Storm. But he was no longer a timid ten year old.
“I will not keep my voice down, Nurse…?” He looked at her name tag. “Lopez. Amy is missing.”
The nurse regarded him with forced patience. “I’m sure you’re mistaken, Mr. Delaney. Did you check the bathroom?”
“Of course I checked the bathroom.” Did the woman think he was an idiot? “She obviously wasn’t there, or I wouldn’t be looking for her.”
“I don’t understand…” Looking puzzled, she turned to the younger woman. “Kathy, did Dr. Yamana order more tests for Mrs. Delaney while I was gone?”
“No, ma’am. She said that Mrs. Delaney was resting and to check on her in half an hour.” She looked at her watch. “That was twenty-five minutes ago.”
“Are you telling me no one has seen her for almost thirty minutes?” he bellowed.
“Please calm down, Mr. Delaney. I’m sure there’s just been a mistake,” Nurse Lopez said.
“There’s been a mistake all right. Your patient has a concussion. She doesn’t even know her own name, and you’re letting her wander around the hospital by herself.”
“Sam! I could hear you yelling three corridors away. What the hell is going on?”
Sam turned to his brother. “Amy’s missing. We have to find her.”
“What do you mean ‘missing’?”
Sam grimaced. Casey was using his cool-cop voice. The one he usually saved for panicky mothers who’d temporarily misplaced their children in department stores.
“I mean, Officer Delaney,” he returned, as composed as he could manage under the circumstances, “that Amy is not in her room, and no one seems to know where she’s gone.”
Casey moved off down the hall to her room, Sam and the two nurses following quickly behind. “Have you checked the closet?”
“The closet?
