he’d worn earlier.
“I was at a work-related event,” she explained.
“Well, it was good of you to take time out for this. We appreciate it.”
“I don’t know what I can possibly do to help,” she said. “Is he in this room?”
The detective glanced at the door in front of them. “Yes, but I’d like to speak to you for a moment before we go in. Can I get you a cup of coffee or a glass of ice water?”
“No, thanks.”
The hospital had placed two chairs by the window at the end of the corridor and he gestured for her to sit. “First of all,” he began as they settled into the chairs, “you were right. The cyclist you and the others saw wasn’t a messenger for Speedy Courier. The real one claims he’d just finished a delivery and was stooping to unlock his bike when someone bashed him over the head. He’d left his helmet looped over the handlebars while he made the delivery. Anyway, when he came to, he found his bike, helmet and vest were missing. He has no idea who did it. He showed up back at the Speedy office to report it about the same time we showed up asking questions.”
“So the guy we saw was a phony,” Kinsey said.
“Yep. We’re retracing the real messenger’s trail to see if anyone he made deliveries to noticed anything peculiar. By the way, he’s a very thin, small young man. I imagine the thief couldn’t get the zipper up on the vest and that’s why it was open. Oh, and the phone video showed just what you surmised. The guy was wearing slacks and loafers.”
“The real messenger is okay?”
“He’s got a bump, but he’s fine.”
“And how about the little girl the cowboy saved? Is she all right?”
“Released an hour or so ago. The woman with her and her sister was the new au pair. I think she was more traumatized than the kids. By cowboy, are you referring to our John Doe?”
“That’s how I thought of him,” she said, nodding toward the room. “Because of the hat and everything. Wait a second, John Doe? You don’t know who he is?”
“No.”
“But his wallet—”
“Is missing. We think the cyclist must have taken it. And before you ask, no cell phone, just a key chain with six keys on it.”
Was that what the cyclist had been doing while everyone thought he was trying to help? Stealing the cowboy’s identity? It had to be. She racked her brain for an image of him pocketing something and came up blank, but he’d had his back to her and that bright vest flapping around him. “Did the taxi driver see anything?” she asked.
“He claims just about everyone on the ground was out of his line of sight. I had someone check that out and he’s telling the truth, they were too close to the front of the cab for the driver to see what was going on.”
“Wait a second,” Kinsey said as she finally made sense of what the detective had said a couple of sentences earlier. “You said the cowboy is conscious. Can’t he just tell you his name?”
The detective shook his head. “He doesn’t remember who he is. In fact, he doesn’t remember anything. And we have no way of knowing if this condition is recent or ongoing because no one has come forward to ask for a missing man, let alone one fitting his description.”
Kinsey sat back on the chair a second. “If this amnesia just started because of the incident today, is there a chance it could go away by morning?”
“The doctors say it’s anyone’s guess. He could start remembering his identity in five minutes, five days or five years. Apparently lots of people with head injuries forget segments of their lives, usually just the few minutes preceding their accident. Anyway, chances are good someone who does know him will show up sooner rather than later. For now, we only have one lead.”
“And what’s that?” Kinsey asked.
“You.”
Kinsey perked up immediately. “Me? What are you talking about?”
“Your name was written on a piece of paper we found in his pocket. Can you think of a reason for that?”
“None,” she said.
“And you’re sure you’ve never seen him before?”
“Pretty sure,” Kinsey said. “I guess it’s possible I ran into him sometime in the past. I’ve lived in a fair number of cities all across the country.” Even as she spoke, she found herself doubting it could be true. John Doe, for lack of a real name, was an arresting-looking man. Would she have forgotten someone who appealed to her on such a gut level?
Woods sighed as he got to his feet. “Would you come with me to meet the guy? Maybe it will jar a memory if you hear his voice.”
“Of course,” Kinsey said, ignoring the pounding of her heart. She had no idea why she felt so nervous. Sweaty palms defied the hospital’s efficient air-conditioning system.
Suppressing a shiver, she followed Woods into the room.
Despite his throbbing head, he fell into a black-and-white world of disjointed collages. It was a relief when a noise shook him out of the nothingness of his dreamworld. Even as he gingerly rubbed his eyes, he recognized the sound the door made when it opened and closed.
He looked up, expecting to see the cop who had asked him questions earlier or one of the doctors or nurses who were taking care of him. He did not expect to find himself staring into the velvety-brown eyes of a small woman wearing a formfitting black dress that revealed creamy smooth shoulders and a modest hint of cleavage.
He lifted his gaze back to the oval perfection of her face and hoped that he and she were longtime lovers, that she would run to him, throw her arms around him and whisper his name in his ear before planting her succulent red lips right on his. He wanted a name. He wanted an identity. He wanted his past, and maybe she was the key. If so, she made a heck of a sexy key and he was prepared to earn his memory back one succulent kiss at a time.
Her response to his gaze was a nervous twitch of her lips. He tried a reassuring smile, but that stretched the three stitches in his left cheek and he grimaced.
The woman did not look as though she loved him. Hell, she didn’t even look as though she knew him.
“You must be Kinsey Frost,” he said.
Now she just looked spooked. Her eyes grew wide. “Do you know me?”
“I don’t even know me,” he admitted. He nodded toward the cop standing behind her. “Detective Woods told me they found the name Kinsey Frost on a piece of paper. I just assumed you’re her.”
Some of the uneasiness fled from her face. “Oh, I see.”
“I’m hoping you have answers for me,” he added.
She
