A Forever Christmas - By Marie Ferrarella Page 0,31
around computers and was, in effect, the one everyone turned to whenever they had any sort of a computer problem or question. But this seemed to require specialized expertise, not hit-and-miss tactics.
“So what are you doing?” he asked, gesturing at the immobile computer screen. “Just waiting for it to come back to life?”
“I’ve got a call in to the software tech support people, but I have a feeling it might be a while before they get back to us. In the meantime—” she shifted her chair around and reached for a thick folder on her desk “—I’m resorting to the old-fashioned method of looking through old reports manually to see if I can come up with any sort of a lead.” With a smile, she added, “That comes under the ‘no stone left unturned’ heading.”
Turning away from the confounding computer, she looked at her brother. “You didn’t answer my question. Did Angel remember anything?”
He recalled the way the woman had worded it. “That cooking relaxes her.”
“Let me rephrase that. Did she remember anything useful?”
“Like her name, rank and serial number?” Gabe guessed, clearly frustrated by the negative answer he had to give her. “No.”
“You know, when this thing finally comes back from the dead—” she delivered less than a gentle tap to the side of the computer “—we could try taking Angel’s fingerprints and see if we can come up with a name that way.”
He was less than pleased about the implication behind his sister’s suggestion. “You mean see if she has a criminal record?”
Alma looked more closely at her brother as she said, “No, I was thinking more along the lines of a driver’s license, but hey, if you think there’s a criminal record out there with her picture on it—”
“I don’t,” he snapped, cutting her off before she could continue down this path.
“Okay, then we’ll look through the state’s DMV records,” she said, keeping her voice low-keyed. “Or maybe we’ll get lucky and find out that our mystery woman works for the government, or that she served in the armed forces or the reserves at one point.” She flashed her brother an encouraging smile. “It’s going to take a while,” she predicted. “But we’ll find out who she is.”
“She may not want us to find out who she is.”
The latter speculation had come from Joe Lone Wolf. The deputy had apparently slipped soundlessly into the seat behind his desk while she and Gabe were discussing the best way to find out Angel’s real name.
Caught off guard, Alma’s hand instantly covered her heart as if to keep it from jumping out of her chest. “You know, you could try making a little noise once in a while, Joe,” Alma complained. “Let people know that you’re there.”
His expression remained exactly the same as he said, “I thought I just was.”
“I think I’m going to tie a bell around your neck,” Alma threatened.
But Gabe’s mind was on what Joe had said last. “Why wouldn’t she want us to know who she was?” Gabe asked.
“A lot of reasons to try to lose yourself,” the deputy answered matter-of-factly. In the world he came from—the reservation where he’d spent the formative years of his life—there’d been a lot of people who preferred making their way through life unnoticed. “Maybe she did something and she’s on the run.”
“I don’t think—” Gabe began, ready to defend the woman.
“Not exactly hard, faking amnesia,” Joe pointed out, cutting Gabe off. “There’re no scientific tests around to use in order to prove that a person does, or doesn’t, have amnesia.”
“She’s not faking it,” Gabe insisted.
“And you know this how?” Joe challenged, willing to be convinced.
To back up his point, Gabe told them what happened last night. “She had a nightmare and she woke up screaming. There was this terrified look in her eyes.” Gabe paused, knowing that he couldn’t find the right words to express the feeling he’d had when he’d looked into her eyes. He knew she was on the level. Nothing could convince him that she wasn’t.
“You had to have been there,” he finally conceded with a sigh. “But I’d bet a month’s salary that she’s on the level.”
“Last of the big-time spenders,” Alma quipped affectionately. When her brother rose to his feet, Alma put her hand out to keep him where he was. “Relax, Gabe, I believe you.” She looked at Joe pointedly. “So does Joe.”
“Yeah,” Joe chimed in after a beat. He’d sounded more convincing this time, but then there was never a great deal