Читать книгу Remembering That Night - Stephanie Doyle - Страница 13
ОглавлениеCHAPTER FOUR
“WAKE UP! PLEASE, GREG. Wake up!”
He was sprawled on a couch she could see was too small for him. He had one arm flung over his eyes and a blanket that covered him only from chest to thighs. His feet were naked and for some reason she found it disturbingly intimate.
He was twisting now, moaning, and the forces of sleep fought against her relentless attack.
“Please wake up.” She hated the desperation in her voice. Hated the panic that was threatening to overwhelm her, but she had to leave this place. She had to find out where she came from.
Finally he lowered his arm and blinked open his eyes. After taking a moment to understand that he was on the couch and a strange woman was standing over him shaking his arm, recognition dawned on his face.
Along with suspicion.
“What’s the matter?”
“We have to leave. You have to help me look for where I live. I think New Jersey makes more sense. The city doesn’t feel right. It’s too noisy. I think if I lived in Philadelphia I would be used to the noise but I’m not. Maybe closer to the shore. I know it sounds crazy, but I was lying in bed and I thought what if I have a dog. It will be hungry and trapped inside.”
Greg slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. “Hang on. What time is it?”
“Almost five in the morning. Please, I know it’s a lot to ask but I have to try.”
He rubbed his hands vigorously over his face and finally looked at her. Really looked at her.
“You want to drive around South Jersey looking for the place you live, without having any idea of where that actually is, because you think you might have a dog?”
“I don’t know if I have a dog.” She got up from where she’d been kneeling and began pacing in front of the couch. She pulled on her fingers and listened to her knuckles crack, then dropped her hands to her sides immediately, having a sense she wasn’t supposed to do that.
Young ladies don’t crack their knuckles.
Greg was right. Manners were important to her. Someone had given her a sense of what was proper and what wasn’t. She could feel it.
“If you don’t know, then why are you so upset?”
“Because what if I do? I might have left not knowing I was going to be away a whole day. It could be hungry or thirsty. Trapped in a house with no access to food or water.”
Greg blinked. “Let me get this straight. You’re worried you might have a dog but not worried you might have a husband who doesn’t know where you are?”
“A husband can feed himself and pour his own drink. He might be scared, but he won’t be helpless or vulnerable.”
“What about a kid?”
“I wouldn’t have left a child alone. Someone would be watching it.”
He nodded. “Then I take it you’re not a cat person.”
“I love all animals!” That felt right. It wasn’t a memory but it was a sense she had. Of who she was. She would take that as a sign that she was getting better but it wasn’t fast enough. “Cats are more independent. A dog needs to be walked and fed every day. Please. I know it sounds crazy. If we drive around I’m sure it will come back to me. I know I’ll remember.”
He reached out while she was pacing and grabbed her wrist. With a yank he pulled her down onto the couch next to him. It was warm where he had stretched over it and she felt the side of his body pressed against her arm. She shivered.
“Listen to me, you’re panicking again.”
She was. She could feel it coming on. Her heart started to race and her lungs tightened. Deep breaths, deep breaths. “I feel out of control.”
“That’s perfectly natural. In this situation you are out of control.”
She shook her head. “I don’t like it. I don’t like feeling this way.”
“Who does?”
She looked at him then and there was a calmness about him. She sensed that he’d seen people in her state before and it didn’t rattle him.
“Keep breathing,” he ordered. “Tell me quick, gut reaction. You like big dogs or small dogs?”
“Big dogs. They make me feel safe.”
He nodded. “Okay, if you have a dog, especially a big one, that would mean you probably live in a house. Someplace with a backyard so he could run around.”
“I hope so. Big dogs need space.” She clutched her chest as she was gripped by an overwhelming feeling of sadness. She wanted to cry but she had no reason for it.
“Well, if you live in a house, then I bet you have neighbors. And if you live in a neighborhood, I’m guessing you know everyone on the street because you would be out walking the dog. A neighbor who knows you and your dog might see that you didn’t come home last night and might hear your dog barking. Maybe this neighbor would have a spare key. To collect your mail when you go on vacation, or let the dog out when you’re not there. I’m sure if there is a dog, everything will be fine.”
Her breathing calmed as he spoke and when she looked at him, she could at least believe he was being sincere and not patronizing.
“I woke up and realized I still didn’t have my memory and I flipped out a little. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“You should be sorry. I am not a morning person.”
She smiled. “You were a little hard to wake up.”
He smiled back. “Just be grateful you weren’t trying to wake Chuck. He’s worse than I am and he flails.”
“I thought I would be better.” Her voice cracked and she hated how completely broken she sounded.
He bumped her shoulder with his. “Can I make an observation?”
“You’re asking me? If I recall last night, and I do at least remember that, you’ve already made several.”
“Did it upset you?”
She shook her head. “I was ready to cling to anything you told me. Hoping it might trigger something. You can’t know how this feels. It’s like an emptiness. I want to say I’ve never felt anything like it before but...”
“But what?”
“I feel lost,” she said, dropping her head. Shame, deep shame, replaced the sadness she’d previously been feeling. “I feel like it’s not the first time, either. Like I’ve been here before. In this mental place. Only I don’t know when or why. I only know I hate it. What was your observation?”
“That. What you just did. Dropping your head, covering your face with your hair. You’re going through this major thing right now where you don’t know who or what you are. You should be angry this happened to you. You should be scared shitless. Instead I feel as if you’re...embarrassed.”
Embarrassment. Shame’s weaker twin. He was right. She needed to get over these feelings and start thinking about a plan of action. “I’m sorry I woke you. I should let you get back to sleep.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen now. How about I make us some coffee?”
“Okay. I don’t think I could sleep now, either. How soon do you think we can call the doctor at Thomas Jefferson to see about scheduling an appointment? I’m hoping I can walk or take the Speedline to get there. Then I won’t have to be a burden on you.”
“You call it the Speedline,” Greg noted as he stood. “Not the subway. You’re definitely a Jersey girl.”
He snatched up his T-shirt which reminded her that he was half-naked. Half-naked with a lean sculpted chest, covered in the same dark hair that stuck out messily on his head. She looked away as he dressed and padded over to the kitchen on the bare feet that had startled her earlier. He scooped out some ground coffee and put it in a filter.
She wasn’t sure why but she considered his nonanswer somewhat ominous. “You don’t think I’ll be able to get an appointment today. Is that it? Are you worried I’ll be stuck here longer? You know I was thinking, if you could lend me some money... Ugh, this is so awful. I know you don’t know me, but I swear I would pay you back. Before I washed it I looked at the label on my dress and I looked it up online on your computer upstairs. It’s fairly pricey. You said yourself you think I come from a wealthy family. I promise I would repay you. I think five hundred dollars would be enough to last me a week. I would have to be back to normal by then.”
“It’s not that...”
“Two hundred. I don’t really need that much to eat. Then I wouldn’t be so dependent on you.” She laughed humorlessly at herself. No, she’d just be in debt to him. She might as well have offered him sex for money. At least then there would be something in it for him.
If he was even attracted to her. Why she was wondering about that was completely beyond her.
“It’s not the money and I’m not worried about you being here for a few more days. I didn’t answer your question about the doctor because I’m not sure what your schedule is going to be like today.”
She snorted. “My schedule? Unless you know something I don’t, I think my schedule is going to consist of sitting on this couch trying desperately to remember something.”
He folded his arms across his chest and she could see his expression was serious. “I’m afraid I do know something you don’t. The sheriff called last night. I didn’t want to upset you, but you’re going to need to talk to some detectives in the ACPD this morning.”
Her heart thumped hard in her chest. “Why?”
“I don’t want to alarm you...but there’s been a murder.”
* * *
“I DO KNOW SOMETHING you don’t.”
“I don’t want to alarm you.”
It had been seven hours since he’d said that to her. He’d only mentioned the murder. As if it was just an inconsequential detail.
“There’s been a murder. You need to go in for questioning. I shouldn’t have told you that much but...well, I guess I did.”
It was all he’d given her. Not the rest of it. Not the most important part. Not even her name.
He wouldn’t make the trip to Atlantic City. Which was fine with her. She didn’t need him anymore. Now that she knew who she was.
“Ms. Dunning? Do you understand what I’ve told you?”
She stared at the detective sitting across from her and nodded her head.
Her name was Eliza Dunning, but she went by Liza. She was an accountant. She was on the payroll of The Grande Casino. She was also known to be a close personal—there had been a subtle emphasis on that word—friend of Hector D’Amato’s.
Hector D’Amato was dead. Shot and killed with a bullet to his face.
Liza looked down at her lap. She’d had to turn in her dress to the police as evidence. Her attorney agreed. Liza confessed to washing it, wanting them to understand that it hadn’t been an intentional attempt to hide evidence. The ACPD already had the original piece the Brigantine sheriff had taken and they didn’t seem concerned with the compromised evidence.
Now she was in a pair of too-big sweatpants and an Atlantic City P.D. T-shirt but she felt more comfortable in this than she would have if she’d still been wearing Greg’s clothes. At least the sweats and T-shirt were honest.
Liza turned to her attorney who was sitting calmly next to her at the table. Chuck had introduced her to Elaine Saunders and told her she’d be representing her during the questioning. They had picked her up at her office on the way to Atlantic City. Elaine worked on the other side of the Ben Franklin Bridge in New Jersey.
Just her and Chuck and Elaine. Because Greg apparently didn’t go to Atlantic City. Ever.
She’d listened with half an ear during the drive down while Elaine—a short woman dressed in a severe, professional suit, with an odd pairing of shoes—traded barbs with Chuck the whole way.
Elaine criticized Chuck’s clothing, his driving, his goatee. Liza might have felt sorry for him if Chuck hadn’t fired back regarding Elaine’s makeup, hair and clunky silver loafers.
Then Elaine had dismissed him altogether and called Greg. She’d listened intently to what he was saying on the other end before ending the call with a “Got it. I’ll call you after we finish.”
At the time Liza had thought how thoughtful it was that Greg had arranged a lawyer for her.
He lied to you. He knew who you were last night and didn’t tell you. Why?
“Ms. Dunning?”
“Yes.”
“You understand everything I’ve said?”
“Yes. I understand what you said, but it doesn’t mean I remember anything. I don’t know why I was at the casino so late Saturday night or on the highway the next morning. I don’t know whose blood it was. I don’t remember anything before hearing the sound of a squad car pulling up next to me on the side of the road. Do you understand that?”
The detective, a large black man with kind eyes, sat back as if reassessing her. Abruptly, the kindness vanished from his eyes and they reminded her of Greg’s, how they had looked the first time he questioned her.
“You don’t remember visiting with D’Amato that night?”
“No.”
“You don’t remember that you worked as an accountant for his casino?”
“No.”
“You don’t remember the man who was rumored to be your lover?”
“No.”
“Detective, do we really need to go any further?” Elaine interjected. “My client has explained to you she has a medical condition. A condition which she would very much like to have treated. You can sit here all day asking her questions she doesn’t have the answers to, or we can seek the treatment she needs.”
The detective’s scowl was menacing, but Liza saw that Elaine wasn’t intimidated in the least.
“Because we both know you’re not going to charge her.”
“I’ve got a dead guy, witnesses who place your client at the scene—”
“You mean her place of business. You have witnesses who saw my client at work.”
“Late Saturday night?”
Elaine shrugged. “Casino hours. It’s open 24/7. The fact that there are witnesses around the place proves that. Who knows what her normal business hours are.”
“Then, hours later, she’s picked up on a highway not far from here covered in blood.”
“Strange. As is her current medical condition. But you don’t have a witness to the crime, you don’t have a weapon, you can do a gun residue check...”
“I’m guessing since she was covered in blood she’s probably taken a shower since yesterday.”
Elaine smiled without humor. “What you have is a circumstantial, albeit strange, case. Let me take her to a doctor. Let’s see what he can tell us about her condition first.”
The detective pointed to Liza. “You don’t leave the area.”
“No, sir. But...is there any way... Does anyone have my address? Where I live? I would like to go home, if that’s possible.”
The detective left the interrogation room and came back with a sheet of paper and a large oversize handbag that Liza suddenly knew was hers. He pushed it forward on the table that stretched between them.
“You left it in your office at the casino.”
She took it and hugged it to her. It felt like a lifeline, something she actually recognized. One more piece of her puzzle. She was tempted to empty the contents right there and then and study everything inside, but she didn’t want to do that in front of the detective. Not that she could be sure he hadn’t already thoroughly searched it.
He passed her the piece of paper with her address, although she could have just checked her driver’s license. Reading the sheet, she discovered she lived in a small upper-middle-class historical town not forty minutes west of Atlantic City. How did she know that? How did she know the town, but not remember that she lived there?
“Jog any memories?”
She shook her head. “Not really. I know the town was founded in 1692. I know there’s an exclusive country club a lot of people belong to. I don’t know why I know either of those two things. I can’t picture what my house looks like from the outside, or any of the rooms inside.”
There was nothing but facts and emptiness. No memories at all. She turned to Elaine. “Please, will you take me home?”
Elaine gave her a hard look, and the skepticism she’d seen in Greg’s face that first day was there, too. Then, suddenly it was gone and she was reaching out to pat Liza’s hand rather awkwardly.
“It’s going to be okay.”
Liza didn’t see how. She was found covered in blood hours after a man she was supposed to know had been shot. She agreed more with the detective than she did her own lawyer. What were the odds that she wasn’t somehow involved in his shooting?
Slim. Maybe zero. But she knew she wasn’t the one who killed him. She wouldn’t have killed anyone. All she had was her gut reaction to what the detective said when he told her about Hector being shot in the face and that reaction said it wasn’t her.
Chuck was waiting for them in the lobby. Together, the three of them left the building and didn’t linger on streets that weren’t really safe even in the middle of the afternoon. The difference between life in the casinos and life on the streets of AC was vast. Several of the casinos had even gone so far as to build passages both above and below ground so if a person wanted to hop from hotel to hotel in an attempt to change their luck, they never had to venture outside.
As soon as they were in the car, Chuck handed Elaine his phone. “He’s waiting for your call. Thinks it was taking too long.”
“I have him in my phone,” Elaine said as she hit a few buttons. “You should take the Black Horse Pike, it’s more direct.”
“And slower than mud. I’m taking the AC Expressway.”
Elaine huffed. “Why do I have the feeling if I had said to take the AC Expressway you would have taken the Black Horse Pike?”
Chuck considered that. “Probably because I would have. Why do you feel the need to determine which route the driver is going to take when you are, in fact, the passenger?”
“Because having been your passenger more times than I would like to remember I know from experience you have a lousy sense of direction.”
Chuck was about to fire back when Elaine stopped him with a raised finger.
“Greg, it’s me. Hey, we’re done. I’m taking her home first. Yes. No. I don’t know...that’s the best that I can give you. But I can tell you it’s a lot more than when you told me the situation this morning. She’s very convincing...”
Liza clenched her teeth, feeling a burst of rage surfacing. She wanted to hit her fists against the seat in front of her to remind Elaine that she was there. But she didn’t. Instead, she simply said, “I’m sitting behind you in the backseat. It’s not polite to talk about people in front of them like that.”
Her attorney thought she was convincing. Liza didn’t imagine that was a good sign because it began with the premise that Liza was trying to convince someone of something when all she was doing was experiencing what was happening to her.
Just because Greg had decided Elaine could represent her didn’t mean Liza had to retain her as her lawyer. There were other lawyers. Maybe other ones she knew personally. Maybe when she saw the town where she lived and her house, it would be the thing she needed to bring her life back. Once that happened she could function again.
“He wants to talk to you.”
Liza stared at the phone. She thought about simply refusing. He’d helped her, yes. But then he’d withheld information from her. It felt like a betrayal. She didn’t owe him anything as a result.
Then she changed her mind, her anger still dictating her actions.
She wanted to tell him she didn’t care if he believed her or not. She wanted to tell him not telling someone what her name was when she’d forgotten it was the cruelest thing she could imagine. She wanted to tell him he could take his doubt and his judgmental eyes and go jump off a bridge.
She took the phone. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I was instructed not to. The police wanted to be able to see your reaction firsthand. I shouldn’t have even told you about the murder, but I didn’t want you to be completely blindsided.”
“Screw you. This is my life you’re playing with.”
“Hey, I’m the one who helped you, remember?”
“Yes. It’s very easy to remember every detail when your whole life as you know it consists of a little more than twenty-four hours. You knew who I was, you knew my name and you didn’t tell me.”
“Eliza. Wake up. You’re a murder suspect. Do you get that?”
She was an amnesiac, she was not stupid. “It’s not Eliza. It’s Liza. And, yes, I get it. What I don’t get is why you care.”
Liza ended the call and handed the phone through the seats to Elaine.
“I appreciate you representing me for my interrogation but I’ll no longer be needing your services. You can send me a bill for your time this morning.”
Elaine turned around in the front seat and looked at her with a frown. “You don’t want to do that, honey. I’m the best. I get why you’re ticked at Greg, but, honestly, he didn’t have a choice.”
“He could have told me my name. He could have given me that much.”
“Maybe,” Chuck said. “But if he had, would you have been satisfied with that? Listen to Elaine. You need help. Serious help. And she’s right about being the best.”
Elaine’s head snapped toward Chuck. “Did you just compliment me?”
“Hell, no. I save compliments for two things. My mother’s cooking because I want more of it and sex because I want more of that, too. Telling Jane...Liza, I mean, that you’re a good attorney is a fact. You wouldn’t be part of the Tyler Group if you weren’t.”
“I’m taking it as a compliment, anyway. And reminding you that you’re talented enough that you could be working for the Tyler Group, too.”
“What and give up the squirrels?” Chuck shook his head, clearly exasperated. “That is so like you. First, I tell you it’s not a compliment but you can’t accept that because everything has to be your way. Second, you think it’s okay to tell me I’m wasting my talent on squirrels.”
“Because (a) you are wasting your talent on squirrels, and (b) my way more often than not is right.”
“Please,” Liza interjected. Their fighting was giving her a headache. “Thank you both. I’ll consider what you said, but I would really like to find someone who believes me. I understand why you all don’t, but I would rather be alone than have to look at another person who wonders if I’m just a talented actress.”
Elaine turned and studied her again. Liza turned her head away and stared out the window instead.
“I don’t think you’re an actress.”
Liza met her stare directly. “Thank you.”
“I do, however, think you know something about Hector D’Amato’s death.”
So did Liza. She knew she didn’t kill him. She trusted that much. But what if she’d somehow inadvertently caused his death?
Because as much as she didn’t want people looking at her and believing her to be an actress, she really didn’t want people thinking she was a murderer instead.
