The doctor flashed the light in her eyes. “You’re in Las Vegas.”
“Why am I in Vegas?”
He smiled at her, didn’t answer. “I want you to remember three things for me. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
“Elephant, moon, and peanut butter. Can you repeat that for me?”
“Elephant, moon, and peanut butter.”
“Good. Just remember that for me.”
She could do that.
“Do you know today’s date?” he asked.
“It’s May.”
The look on the doctor’s face told her she was wrong. She looked around the room, searching for clues. There was a whiteboard on the wall across the room. On it was a date. “September.”
The doctor glanced over his shoulder. “That’s cheating,” he said, teasing. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
She closed her eyes . . . searched. “My feet hurt.”
“Your feet?”
The doctor walked to the end of the bed and moved the blanket off her feet. He touched each one. “Does this hurt?”
“No.”
He pressed and poked before returning the blankets. “Okay, sweetheart . . . what were those three things I asked you to remember?”
“Uhm . . .” It was there. Close. Something big. As she pushed her brain to remember, she forgot his question altogether. Her stomach started to churn, and her body felt cold. “I’m going to be sick.”
Her words put the strangers at her bed in motion.
CHAPTER FIVE
Leo and Fitz were buzzed back into the ICU and were instructed to check with the nurse before going into Jane Doe’s room. Once there, they showed the nurse their identification.
“How is she doing?” Leo asked.
“Physically? Better. We took her off the vent a couple of hours ago. She’s breathing on her own.”
A weight lifted from Leo’s chest.
“You said ‘physically,’” Fitz pointed out.
“Her memory is taking some time to come back.”
“What do you mean?” Fitz asked.
“Transient amnesia. She doesn’t remember what happened that brought her here or even her own name,” Maureen, the nurse, reported.
“Transient? It won’t last?” Leo asked.
The nurse shrugged. “Most of these things resolve on their own. Could be a few hours or a couple of days. Dr. Lee ordered more tests for the morning to make sure there isn’t something else causing it.”
“This is from the head injury?”
“Appears that way.”
“This is normal?”
“I wouldn’t say normal, but it happens. You were with her when the shooting happened, right?” Maureen asked.
“Yeah.”
“Maybe seeing you will spark a memory.”
Somehow Leo doubted that. “Worth a try.”
Leo and Fitz followed Maureen into the room.
Once the curtain was pulled back, Leo took in the stranger. Her head was slightly elevated, eyes closed. Long brown hair splayed on the pillow, and a canula was fitted in her nose, delivering oxygen. The vibrant color of her skin the night before, before a bullet penetrated her body, was gone. Here she was drawn, pale. Evidence she’d lost enough blood to make a difference. Or maybe it was the stress of everything on her body.
“Hey, hon.” Maureen coaxed her awake. “You have visitors.”
Janie, which was how Leo had been referring to her in his head instead of Jane Doe, opened her eyes. Green eyes . . . not the blue he remembered. The sharpness of those eyes had lost some of the focus from the night before. But the beauty of them was still there.
“How is your pain?” Maureen asked.
“I’m okay.” Janie looked past Maureen toward Leo and Fitz, her stare blank.
“Do you remember my name?” Maureen asked.
Without words, she shook her head. “You’re a nurse.”
“I am.” She pointed to the wall opposite the bed. “My name is written up there.”
“Maureen.”
“Right. Do you know where you are?”
Janie tried to smile. “A hospital.”
“What city?”
“Atlantic City,” Janie said a little too quickly.
Leo heard Fitz sigh.
“Vegas. But I would guess they’re a lot alike.” Maureen looked at the two of them. “She keeps saying Atlantic City.”
“Is that where you live?” Fitz asked.
“I don’t think so.” Janie started blinking as if forcing away tears.
Maureen reached for the water at the bedside and helped her drink.
“Do I know you?”
Leo stepped closer, took a seat in the only chair in the room. “We met last night. My name is Leo. This is my partner, Kelsey. We’re federal agents.”
Janie’s eyes grew wide. “Agents?”
“Yes.”
She started breathing a little heavier. “I was shot?” It was a question.
“That’s right,” Maureen told her.
“Am I . . . did I do something?” Her hands fisted in her lap.
Leo placed a hand on her bed. “No, no . . . you didn’t do anything. That’s not why