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Reaching up with her free hand, she ripped the hat from her head and dropped it on the ground. Instantly, the wide-brimmed yellow hat was trampled beneath the race attendee’s feet. She shot a quick glance over her shoulder in time to see a circle of people surrounding someone who must have been on the ground based on the way their gazes were all focused downward.

A band of fear tightened her chest. Something was wrong. “What happened back there?”

“Someone was stabbed.” Doc didn’t look at her, too intent on pushing through the crowd. They were headed in the opposite direction of the general admission seating, but the number of people milling about made it slow going.

“Who? Did you see who was responsible?”

“No, I didn’t see anyone with a knife, just a woman wearing the exact same yellow dress you’re wearing drop to the ground with blood staining her dress.”

“My dress?” The implication of his words sank deep. “Me? The person who stabbed her thought she was me?”

Doc didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. Of course, that was the only thing that made sense. Feeling frantic, she raked her gaze over the people around them, but the faces blended together.

It was no use trying to identify the assailant. She didn’t know who she was, much less who was trying to kill her.

“We need to do something to help her.” Running away in the opposite direction from the poor stabbed woman wasn’t right.

“There’s plenty of others to help.” Doc, again, didn’t so much as look at her. “My job is to get you out of here.”

Remembering the circle of people surrounding the victim, she knew he was right. The poor injured woman would get the help she needed.

Yet it wasn’t easy to brush off the fact that an innocent person was hurt because of her. Because she and Doc had decided to attend the race to see if being in familiar surroundings would spur her memory.

Tears pricked her eyes, but she forced them away. Crying was useless. She lifted her gaze skyward to pray for the innocent victim.

She murmured a quick prayer, then her gaze landed on the box seating high above the racetrack. Seeing a familiar face, she stopped dead in her tracks. Doc noticed and finally looked back at her. Then his gaze followed hers.

Unable to look away, Fiona knew the man standing up in the box was the man who looked like her father, based on the picture Doc had shown her. His expression was drawn into a grim frown. For a moment, she wondered if he was upset that she was at the race with Doc. Then she realized there was no way he could have identified her amid so many people.

A memory of her father looking at her with that same disappointed and upset frown flashed in her mind. They’d both been angry. She’d told him she wanted nothing more to do with horse racing and had left him standing there.

What had spurred the argument? She tried to cast her memory back to the events leading up to their disagreement, but she couldn’t recall anything specifically that she’d seen or heard.

Just the anger and her father’s expression being the same as it was now.

“Fiona?” Doc stepped closer as it to protect her from being seen by her father. “Do you know who that is?”

“He looks like my father.” She pushed the words through her constricted throat. Throughout this nightmare, she had not wanted to believe her own father could do such a terrible thing as sending men after her to kill her.

Now, she was very much afraid that was exactly what had happened.

“We need to get out of here.” Doc’s statement penetrated her thoughts.

“Okay.” She turned away and pulled her shoulder-length brown hair forward so that it partially covered her face. It was the only thing she could think of to help hide her features.

Doc gripped her hand tightly and led the way toward the entrance they’d come through barely an hour ago. It was surreal to think that during that time frame some poor woman was stabbed, and she’d remembered arguing with her father.

The neurology resident was right about one thing. Being in familiar surroundings had helped spark her memory. Too bad, the memory only made her feel worse about her situation.

When she’d first awoken under Doc’s care, he’d asked if she’d had an argument with her father. Turned out his question had been spot-on.

Her thoughts whirled as they threaded through the crowd toward the exit. To be fair, she had to admit the argument could have taken place at any time, but it may not have happened shortly before she’d gone on the run for her life.

She could almost hear Doc scoffing at the coincidence. And he’d be right to be skeptical. It made sense that the two events were related.

“Are you okay?” Doc paused as they reached the gate. People were still streaming in, so they had to wait for a break before they could leave. There were signs everywhere that indicated there was no readmittance.

She was far from okay, but she wasn’t lying on the ground with a knife wound either, so she forced a nod. “Yes. Just anxious to get out of here.”