Page 55 of One Night Years Ago

“We have to find this killer, Rob. When you and Susan are done speaking to all these people, keep following the tattoo parlor angle, see if you get anything there. I’m taking the patrol car and heading back to the hospital to see Felicia, see if she’s remembered anything else.”

“We’ll let you know if anything stands out, boss.”

“Good. Oh, and Rob? Call the hospital about that DNA sample, please. I don’t know why we’re still waiting.”

#

Two hours later, Natalie’s headache was raging. Felicia Robinson was doing better—that was the good news. The bad news was her memory of the attack wasn’t coming back. Her impressions from that night were down to three words: dark, fear, bird.

She stopped by the doctors’ break room on her way out, hoping to bump into Dr. Leroy. Her friend might be kind enough to give her some Tylenol. She knocked, but nobody replied.

Just my luck.

She thought of her sad medicine cabinet at home. She didn’t like pills so didn’t keep much there.

I’ll stop by the pharmacy on my way home.

Natalie was about to turn away when Dr. Ford came out. Despite herself, Natalie was amazed at how good-looking the man was when he smiled. He was the sort of man you didn’t notice until he smiled and suddenly his eyes seemed brighter, his shoulders broader. She noted all of this in a clinical sort of way.

“Natalie … I mean, Sheriff Bowmann,” he said, almost bowing to her. He was tall enough she had to crane her head up to see him.

“Dr. Ford,” she said, peeking into the break room, which was empty. “I was looking for Dr. Leroy.”

“Barbara’s gone home. Is there something I could help you with?”

“It’s nothing … I guess maybe you can help me. I have a headache and was hoping to get a painkiller.”

He assessed her shrewdly. “Do you get these often?”

“On and off,” she said, shrugging. She wasn’t about to explain when they started. “They don’t happen often, but when they do, they’re pretty bad,” she admitted.

“Have you ever seen someone about this? You really should come in and let me take a look one of these days. Maybe do a CAT scan, make sure there’s nothing we’re missing.”

She nodded noncommittally. Over her time as a sheriff she’d been treated for several injuries but always as an outpatient. It’d take a debilitating injury to bring her back to a hospital again. She hated this place.

He laughed as if reading her mind. “You want me to shut up and give you something for the pain, don’t you?”

She cracked a smile. Maybe the stuffy doctor had a sense of humor after all. “I guess that is what I was hoping for. But I will think about what you said, if that makes a difference.”

“That’s all I can ask for.” He scribbled something on a piece of paper. “Here. Take this to the pharmacy downstairs. This should help.”

“Thanks a lot, Dr. Ford.” As she was taking the paper from him, she thought of something. “What kind of medication is Felicia Robinson taking?” At the man’s sputter, she raised her hand. “I know you can’t tell me the names, Dr. Ford, I just want to know if any of it could be affecting her memory.”

A window slammed shut somewhere behind them. Natalie realized the strange whooshing sound she’d been hearing was the wind.

I guess the heat has finally broken.

“You’re right, I can’t tell you what she’s taking, Sheriff. But none of it should really be affecting her memories. In my professional opinion, the memory loss is due simply and straightforwardly to trauma. She was kidnapped, raped, in fear of her life. I still don’t understand how she managed to escape—”

“Do you think her memory will come back soon?”

“That’s what we all hope, Sheriff, but there isn’t anything we can do to rush it. Do you have any other leads? The nurses are talking about a convict who’s recently been released from prison.”

Natalie looked at him sharply. “I can’t share details of an ongoing investigation,” she said, returning the favor, “but I assume you’re speaking of Hunter Fowler. His alibi checks out, so we’re not looking at him anymore.”

“That’s good, that’s good. Well, if there’s nothing else, Sheriff, I’m heading home now.”

She looked at her phone. It was almost six p.m. She should head home, but she had so much work to do. “I’m heading back to the station.”