He laughs. “After the hospital, Barbara met up with the book club bitches. They mooched free coffee and negotiated the price of a bear claw down until Alana was tempted to toss it in the trash instead, then they whispered and schemed for a couple of hours. They’re planning tooutthe girl for the criminal mastermind she is, un-closet her skeletons, ruin her reputation—since she so callously attempted to ruin Barbara’s—and if they can get the charges to stick, which they will, they swear it, they’re gonna send her to prison for the next hundred years.”
“For fuck’s sake.” I brush a hand over my face, scratching my unshaved jaw and exhaling a deep sigh. “It’s exhausting listening to the bullshit.”
“What’s therealstory?”
“Female vic was struck by a car. Frozen half to death, shattered Barbara’s windshield with her skull, suffered a traumatic brain injury, and the loss of her memories. Now she’s in the hospital, scared to her bones, and with no clue who the hell she is. But that’s private, so you didn’t hear it from me.”
He makes a show of zipping his lips. “She gonna be okay?”
That new, constant dread sits heavily in my belly, aching and nauseating in all the worst ways. “Depends on your definition of okay, I suppose. She’s talking and able to hold a conversation. She speaks clearly, andsometimes, when she finds the exact right opening, tells a joke and delivers well-timed sarcasm. She’s scared as hell, and went sheet-white when Billy and Ramone arrived to take her statement. Says she can’t close her eyes, ‘cos she’s afraid of the dark, but I reckon she’s afraid of being snuck up on.”
“You think she’s running from someone dangerous?”
I shrug. I honestly have no fucking clue. “She’s terrified of everyone equally. Male and female. Even Janine—who I typically bring in to calm a patient—is sending Jane over the edge.”
Thoughtful, he warms the side of my face with his stare. “You call her Jane?”
“Jane Doe.” I drag my bottom lip between my teeth, exhaling until my lungs empty. “It’s her official name till we know different. But she doesn’t like it, so I don’t say it to her face.”
“Jane.” He says it again, softer on his tongue. “Gossip vines are saying she’s not afraid of you.”
“Yeah, well…” I move onto the backs of my heels, curling my toes. Stretching them. My feet will be stuck in a pair of shoes again soon, and they won’t be free again until tomorrow. “She was plenty scared when she first woke up. Busted her stitches and nearly threw herself off her bed trying to escape. But I stayed, and I talked to her. Kept hanging around. Figured consistency would create familiarity, and familiarity would help her trust.”
“You’re big-brothering her.”
I cough out a cathartic laugh and drop my chin until it almost touches my chest. “It comes naturally to me.”
“Oliver.” Billy Caster comes to a stop on my right, his broad shoulder brushing mine, while twenty feet behind us, his kid shouts and huffs his way through a class. “How’s Jane doing?”
“Better, now that the asshole cop isn’t in her space.” I turn and sit on the edge of the cage floor, my back pressed to the fence. “You’ve been listening to the Plainview gossip mill. That’s why you went into her room with a bad attitude.”
“The fuck is wrong with you?” Tommy growls. “You gave her the Barbara treatment?”
“She wouldn’t be the first person looking for a six-figure payday in this economy,” he grunts. “She’s a stranger with not a single dollar to her name, not enough clothes to cover her back, and a convenient head injury to blame for her lack of answers.”
“Convenient? She has a traumatic fucking injury,” I snarl. “She’s got bleeding on the brain, bruises on every inch of her body, stitches popping because she’s so fuckin’ skinny, and her skin has no stretch, and she has noclue where she is or what her name is.Ifshe was in it for the insurance fraud, she doesn’t even remember her plan.”
“You let small-town-bullshit bleed into your work,” Tommy rumbles. “Listening to the book club instead of treating a victim with the respect and tact she deserves.” He folds muscular arms and tut-tuts under his breath. “I’m embarrassed for ya.”
“Shut the fuck up.” He turns with a huff and sits on the cage frame beside me, staring across the room while his kid and my sister skip and laugh. “It’s my job to consider she might have shitty intentions. It’s not like I cussed her out, and I didn’t straight-up call her a liar, either. I didn’t even make her cry.”
“Did you run her prints and face through the system?” I demand. “Find prior insurance fraud attached to her name?”
“No, smartass. In fact, she’s not popping upanywhere. No criminal record, and if she has a driver’s license, I’m tempted to assume she walked into that photo booth with a heavy layer of makeup or two hundred pounds and a different nose to the one she has now.”
“So, no license,” Tommy concludes. “Jesus. No record at all? I thought everyone had a rap sheet by their nineteenth birthday. It’s a rite of passage.”
“Just the Watkins boys,” Billy drawls, “setting shit on fire and making a career of pissing everyone off. Doctor Darling, on the other hand?—”
Venom burns in my veins as I rotate and meet his eyes in warning as
Don’t do it, you prick. Don’t fucking start.
Reconsidering, he clamps his lips shut and pushes to his feet. “Whatever.”
“You’ll conduct yourself better next time,” I grit out. “That woman is a victim who needs our help. She’snota sacrifice to be made to satisfy the book club bitches’ rabid hunger for gossip.”
Billy turns, slamming his pointed finger against my chest. “Just because you?—”
