The Stranger In Room 205 (Hot off the Press! 1)

Sam told Marjorie to go home without him. He had some things to do in town, he told her. He would walk home.

His first stop after leaving the diner was the library. Nodding to the friendly librarian, he didn’t pause to chat, but headed straight for the computers. He spent the next couple of hours searching the Internet, looking for any information about a missing person who even roughly matched his description. Keeping Serena’s guesses in mind, he concentrated on Texas and then expanded his search, but he still came up blank. If anyone was looking for him, he found no evidence of it.

The research he did on amnesia proved little more helpful than his search for his identity. He learned nothing new, only the same facts he’d read before. True amnesia was very rare, little understood and inconsistently treated. The prognosis seemed to be different with each case, some patients recovering almost miraculously, some partially—and some never regaining their memories.

In every article, the victims were considered medical oddities. Intriguing case studies.

Weird, he elaborated glumly. The word wasn’t used in any of the articles, but it might as well have been, as far as he was concerned. Once word got out about his condition, he would be “that weird guy who doesn’t know his name”—in addition to “that stranger who’s been mooching off the Schaffer women,” as the anonymous caller had identified him to Dan.

He wasn’t ready to go back to the guest house when he left the library. He spent the rest of the afternoon walking the streets of downtown, his hands in his pockets, his eyes shaded by the cap Dan had given him for their fishing trip. As he walked, he futilely probed his mind for memories. He was aware of people passing, even absently returned a few greetings, but he knew he would never be able to list those he’d passed. He couldn’t concentrate on anything but the mess he’d gotten himself into with his stubbornness and his pride.

Serena was never going to trust him again, he decided glumly. And why should she? All he had done was lie to her.

Maybe he should just leave town. He could find a job somewhere else while he recovered his memory, send money to the hospital when he could. At least that way he wouldn’t risk hurting anyone here with further deceptions. And he wouldn’t risk being thrown in jail because someone here had it in for him, he added with grim humor as his gaze skimmed the candy store at the end of the street. Yellow police tape decorated the front of the store, and the broken window had been hastily covered with plywood.

Had to be the work of punk kids, he thought with a disgusted shake of his head. Who else would break into a candy store for what little cash had been left overnight? Surely even Farley hadn’t been stupid enough to pull this stunt just to spite Sam.

Still lost in thought, he turned to head in the other direction, telling himself he might as well face the music eventually. He had to tell Serena the truth before anything further happened between them. He wasn’t looking forward to it, but if he was going to stay here, it had to be done. It was either that or sneak out during the night—and she deserved better than that. So did Marjorie.

He glanced around. There weren’t many people on the sidewalks this late in the afternoon, but there was one he wasn’t at all pleased to see. Wearing a blue work shirt that indicated he’d just gotten off work at the muffler shop, Delbert Farley stood on the other side of Main Street, glaring. Sam remembered the anonymous call to Dan, and his temper flared. If Farley had pulled that stupid stunt, he should know it hadn’t worked—and that he’d better not try it again.

He had just stepped into the street to cross to the other side when the sudden roar of a car’s engine pulled his attention away from Farley. The street had been deserted of traffic when he’d stepped onto it—or so he’d thought—but now a large, dark SUV was bearing down on him. Fast.

Sam jumped over the yellow line in the center of the street, out of the vehicle’s lane. The SUV swerved, keeping him directly in its path.

Though he wasn’t sure he could reach it in time, Sam made a desperate dive for the sidewalk.

Chapter Eleven

Serena knew about the anonymous call to Dan. Word traveled fast in Edstown, particularly in the small legal community. Someone told someone who told someone who told Serena—and she got the distinct impression that whoever had made the accusatory call had wanted the news to get out. Someone wanted to cast suspicion on Sam—and she had a pretty good idea who it could be.

He wasn’t there when she got home Thursday evening, and neither was her mother. A note on the refrigerator door let her know that her mother had gone to a movie with a couple of her friends. There was no mention of Sam’s whereabouts.

Maybe Sam was with Dan, Serena speculated as she let Walte

r into the backyard for some fresh air and exercise. Though she’d heard Dan wasn’t taking the anonymous tip very seriously, she supposed he had to follow up on it. Maybe he’d taken Sam in for questioning. Or maybe they’d gone fishing again.

The phone rang and she snatched it up, closing the kitchen door with the hope that Sam’s fence repairs would keep Walter from wandering this time. “Hello?”

“Oh, Serena. Hi. You sound as if you’re expecting a call.” Kara’s tone was a bit stiff—probably because she knew Serena still didn’t approve of Kara’s decision to leave Edstown with her boyfriend.

“No,” Serena said, equally awkward. “I wasn’t really expecting a call. I just happened to be standing by the phone. I’m sure you called to talk to Mother, but she isn’t home right now.”

“Oh. Well—how are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you. And you?”

“Just fine. Thanks for asking.”

This was ridiculous. As close as they had once been, they were speaking like mere passing acquaintances. Remembering Sam’s criticisms, Serena was determined to prove she wasn’t being petty or selfish just because she thought Kara had made an imprudent decision. “How’s Pierce?”

“He’s great.” Kara’s voice was suddenly more animated. “He’s getting a lot of attention with his singing. One of the club regulars knows a guy who’s a good friend of a very reputable music agent. The club customer is going to bring in his friend to hear Pierce sing and maybe the friend will convince the agent to consider Pierce as a client.”

Couldn’t Kara hear how improbable that all sounded? Pierce’s odds of being discovered by the friend of a friend of an agent were probably less than his chances of being kidnapped by Martians—but she was determined to be pleasant. “That’s wonderful. I’m sure I’ll be hearing him on the radio any day now.”

“You think no such thing,” Kara replied a bit peevishly. “But you’ll see. Pierce will make it. It only takes one lucky break.”

“Then I hope that break comes soon. For both your sakes.”