Laura Scott - Christmas Amnesia

“More like amnesia, don’t you think?” Noah countered. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you trying to tell me she has to stay in the hospital until her memory returns?”

“Not exactly,” Wagner backtracked. “But she needs to be watched closely for worsening signs and symptoms.”

Yeah, he could understand that. “Listen, Doc, I promise I won’t leave her alone. But since we don’t know what happened to her, I think she needs to be taken someplace safe.”

That made the doctor bristle. “Our hospital is safe,” he protested.

Noah wasn’t in the mood to argue. When he swept another gaze over the ER, he noticed the mop that the tanned guy had been using was lying on the floor as if it had been dropped and abandoned. The man himself was nowhere in sight.

Maybe he was being paranoid, but Noah couldn’t help but think that Maddy’s injury was related to the case she was scheduled to take to trial in less than a week.

Noah knew all about Alexander Pietro’s drug-running business; he was one of the cops who’d helped arrest him. They had plenty of evidence, but Pietro had serious mob connections in Chicago, and Noah wouldn’t put it past them to attempt to free Alexander by doing whatever was necessary.

Even threatening to take out the assistant district attorney handling the case.

The fact that Maddy was still wearing a pair of black slacks, topped with a dark gray blazer over a blue blouse that matched her eyes, confirmed that she’d been working late down at the courthouse.

“I’ll check with my boss,” Dr. Wagner said. He left Maddy’s room and Noah remained where he was at the foot of her gurney. As far as he was concerned, no one was going to touch Maddy without his permission.

He glanced back at her, noticing once again the long slice along the front of her neck. A small portion of the scratch had been deep enough to require a few stitches. Imagining the way the mugger must have held a knife to her throat brought a flash of anger.

Nope. No one was going to touch Maddy Callahan again. No way, no how.

“Is there a problem?” A female physician entered the room. She was tall and beautiful with long curly red hair and it took him a minute to recognize her as Dr. Gabrielle Hawkins, the infamous trauma surgeon who’d saved the lives of numerous cops on the force. She was the best trauma surgeon on staff at Trinity Medical Center.

The prettiest one, too. Married, of course, to Deputy Shane Hawkins.

“Dr. Hawkins, I’m Officer Sinclair.” Noah held out his hand and she gave it a firm shake. “This patient is Maddy—”

“Callahan,” Dr. Hawkins finished, her eyes on the patient lying on the gurney. “I recognize her from when I took care of her brother Miles after he suffered a gunshot wound last April.”

Noah figured he shouldn’t have been surprised; rumor on the street was that Dr. Hawkins was exceptionally smart and never forgot a name or a face. “Yes. I have reason to believe she’s in danger, so I’d like for her to be discharged into my care as soon as possible.”

“Hmm.” Dr. Hawkins skirted around him to approach Maddy. “Ms. Callahan? Can you open your eyes for me?”

Noah gripped the edge of the side rail as Maddy struggled to comply. Dr. Hawkins used a flashlight to examine Maddy’s pupils and then had her follow a few basic commands. When she finished, she questioned Maddy about what she remembered.

“I don’t remember anything,” Maddy said, her brow deeply furrowed with obvious distress. “I don’t understand, why can’t I remember?”

Dr. Hawkins’s smile was gentle. “It may be that you’ve suffered some sort of traumatic experience. I suspect that your memory will return on its own, but I’d like you to follow up in the neurology clinic in a week if the memory loss continues, okay?”

“All right,” Maddy agreed and Noah knew then she really wasn’t herself. The Madison Callahan he knew would never agree to a doctor’s appointment in the middle of a trial.

Then it hit him. Until Maddy had her memory back, there wouldn’t be a trial.

Oh, sure, maybe another ADA could pick up the case, but he knew from personal experience that getting ready for a trial took hours and hours of preparation. Maddy had grilled him about his testimony for a full eight-hour day and he was just one of the officers involved. What about the others? He couldn’t imagine going through all that prep again.

Would the DA ask for a continuance? And if so, for how long? It wasn’t as if they could just tell the judge to wait for Maddy’s memory to return. Victims had a right to a speedy trial. What if they were forced to let Pietro out on bail?

The thought of Alexander Pietro being back on the street filled him with dread. Not just because the guy had threatened to kill every cop who’d participated in the bust, but more so because months of hard work would be lost forever. They’d have to start from scratch to build another case against him.

Placing more innocent lives at risk.

Noah curled his fingers into fists, knowing that he was taking the entire drug-trafficking case too personally. Because of his younger sister, Rose, who’d died of a heroin overdose when she was a senior in high school.

Another death that was mostly his fault. First Rose, then his former college girlfriend, Gina. One guilt piled on the other, with Matt’s injury sitting at the top of the lopsided guilt cake.

He shook off the depressing thoughts and focused on the immediate issue at hand. Maddy hadn’t wanted him to call Matt, but he’d called his former partner’s cell number anyway. Matt didn’t answer, so Noah left a vague message asking for a return call. Hopefully, Maddy’s memory would return by the time Matt called back.

“I’ll write the discharge order, Officer Sinclair, if you promise Maddy won’t be left alone,” Dr. Hawkins said.

“I promise I’ll stay with her until someone from her family takes over.”

Dr. Hawkins nodded. “Done. I’ll have the nurse come in to explain what you should look for.”

The nurse, a plump blonde with a cheerful smile, came into the room rattling off a list of signs and symptoms to be on the lookout for. Noah was glad when she handed him a packet of paperwork listing everything she’d just told him.

“Thanks,” he said, folding the papers in half and sticking them in his back pocket. “Maddy? Do you need help sitting up?”

“I can do it,” she said with a wince. She gripped the rail, pulling herself upright. She swayed, and he quickly moved closer and placed a steadying arm around her shoulders.

“Easy now,” he said. “Take your time, there’s no rush.”

“I’m okay,” she said, and the familiar stubborn edge to her voice made him smile. This was the Maddy Callahan he remembered.

The same woman Matt had warned him to stay away from the first time he’d laid eyes on her. Matt didn’t want his baby sister, born a few minutes after him, to be in a relationship with a cop. The way Matt had lost his father, who’d happened to be the former chief of police as well as being murdered while visiting a crime scene, had made Matt overly protective. Noah had completely understood where his former partner was coming from.

The warning hadn’t been necessary since Noah had no intention of being in a relationship with anyone, especially not Madison Callahan.

Maddy swung her legs over the edge of the bed, placing her feet on the floor, then frowned at her stocking-covered toes. “Where are my shoes?”

“Here.” Keeping a hand on her arm, he used his feet to bring the flats into position so she could slip them on.

“Thanks.” She stood, then reached out to grab his arm. “Whoa. The room spins when I move too fast.”