"Hold on, Dylan. There's something else, but you didn't hear it from me.”
“Sure.” Hope swells my heart. A single piece of information is all I need. A single thing to give me a direction. I won’t stop looking until I find her.
“I want to help you, but I can't afford to lose my job over this."
My stomach knots at the heaviness in her tone. "Go on."
"There was a woman who fit Nikki's description. She came in as a Jane Doe, didn't have any identification, just a single key in her pocket. The records indicate a locksmith was contacted but he said it was one of the most generic key styles available. It looked like she'd been jogging and got hit by a car. Physically, other than some bumps and bruises, she was okay, but she hit her head… and had amnesia."
Alive, good. Amnesia, fuck! "I’ll be right there. Let me grab some things to prove who she is."
“I’m sorry, Dylan. She’s been discharged.”
“You let her go?” All of my anger and fear and worry pour into the question.
“I didn’t,” she says defensively.
Pissing off the only person who’s been able to help isn’t going to get me anywhere. I dial myself back, while struggling to fathom how you let someone with amnesia walk out of a hospital. Is she out there scared and homeless? “When did she leave? She didn’t come home. Where did she go?”
"She was discharged six days ago. The doctors wanted to keep her longer, but I hate to say it… We were short on beds and couldn’t hold her against her will. It looks like she was given a list of places that could help her."
“I don’t have a pen. Let me—”
"I’m going to send the list to you. And remember, I'm only telling you this because I know you personally."
"I owe you for this, big time."
"Actually, I don't want to ever speak of it again. I'm violating all kinds of hospital policy."
"Got it."
"In certain cases, the hospital will inform women of safe places they can go instead of going home. It's usually for unsafe homeenvironments, but since she didn't know where she lived or if it was safe—"
"Perfect. Send the list." Every second wasted is time she doesn’t know that she’s loved.
"I want to help you find your sister, but I don't want this coming back to haunt me."
"It won't, I promise."
I hang up and rush back to Toby. "It looks like she has amnesia, and we've got some leads as to where she might be."
Anguished relief torments Toby's expression. "Let's go save Nikki."
Chapter 2
Molly
Three months later
Jolene shifts her toddler, Jane, on her hip, leaning closer to the wooden posts of the reindeer corral. I wonder if the kid’s birth parents thought about the use of Jane. After being named Jane Doe briefly, I could never name a child Jane. Probably not a touchy subject for most people.
I’d never guess Jolene had only been named guardian of a two-year-old a week ago–she’s taking to it so naturally.
Our other friends, Starla and Bellamie, say Jolene’s always like that, jumping in, embracing every new adventure.
Should I take notes from her? Instead of dwelling on who I was three months ago before the accident that stole my memories, embrace my fresh start. How many people get to start over without all of their emotional baggage? That’s definitely a rosier way of looking at my situation.
Jolene’s kid squeals as a reindeer steps closer.
