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

“And if someone really was trying to hurt you? Maybe the same person who tried to implicate you in the candy store robbery?”

He made a face. “You heard about that, did you?”

“I heard. You’re lucky Dan didn’t throw you in jail.”

“He said he doesn’t make arrests based on anonymous phone calls.”

“Then you’re lucky he’s so reasonable. Someone wanted to cause problems for you, Sam. For all we know, someone tried to cause you physical harm only hours later. I’m not at all comfortable just shrugging those incidents off as coincidental.”

“I’ll talk to Dan.”

She had the feeling he was trying to appease her, but at least Dan would know what had happened. Or almost happened. She shivered.

Sam lay a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll talk to Dan,” he said again, and he sounded more sincere this time.

A new possibility occurred to her. “Is there any chance that the driver of that SUV could be one of the men who beat you up and left you in the ditch? Maybe they’re trying to get rid of you now to keep you from identifying them or something.”

The muscle that flexed in his jaw made her wonder if the possibility had already occurred to him. But all he said was, “Highly unlikely.”

Serena scowled at him. “You’re getting close-mouthed again. That means I’m asking questions you don’t want to answer. What, exactly, are you keeping from me, Sam Wallace?”

Chapter Twelve

It was the moment Sam had been dreading since he’d opened his eyes in a hospital room and stared at a blank wall where his past should have been. Over and over, he’d rehearsed this scene in his mind. It had always turned out badly, with him feeling like an idiot and everyone else treating him like a freak. Everyone except Serena. In his imagination, she had always been too angry about his lies to even speak to him.

She was watching him with suspiciously narrowed eyes, waiting for him to level with her. He cleared his throat, stalling, trying to come up with the right words to tell her that she’d been kissing a guy who didn’t even know his own name. For some reason, the words didn’t immediately pop into his mind.

He whipped his head around when something scratched on the kitchen door behind him. “What the—”

“It’s Walter.” Serena studied him with a lifted eyebrow. “You were expecting another SUV?”

Chagrined by his overreaction, he turned toward the door. “I’ll let him in.”

She crossed her arms and watched as he moved to the back door. He didn’t immediately close the door after Walter dashed in, but stood gazing out into the darkness, tempted to step into it. Perhaps he would be more comfortable out there. No identity, no past, no future—just another solitary form among the shadows.

Serena interrupted his melancholy imagery. “You were going to tell me something?”

He couldn’t do it. There was no way he could explain what was wrong with him or why he had hadn’t told the truth from the start. How could he justify a decision that even he recognized as completely irrational?

He had just acknowledged another uncomfortable fact about himself. Apparently, there were times when he could be a craven coward. Now, for example. “Actually, I’m a little tired,” he said without looking around. “It’s been…an eventful day.”

“Then you can sit while you talk. I’ll even make you something to eat. We can’t keep putting this off, Sam.”

He still had a couple of days before his self-imposed three-week deadline was up, he reminded himself. It was entirely possible that he would, somehow, manage to assemble the fragments of memory he’d recovered during the past few days into a coherent whole. It would be much easier to discuss his amnesia with Serena after he’d recovered from it, when there would be something more to tell her.

“We’ll talk soon,” he assured her, inching toward the doorway.

She caught his arm. “Damn it, Sam! I deserve better than this.”

It was the one argument he couldn’t refute. She was absolutely right. She deserved better than what she’d gotten from him.

He closed the door.

Serena’s hand remained on his arm. “Whatever it is, whatever you’re running from—maybe I can help. We can talk to Dan. If someone from your past is trying to hurt you—”

Sam quieted her by covering her hand with his free one. “You’re always offering to help me,” he murmured, studying the concern in her eyes. “I’ve never met anyone like you—at least, I don’t think I have.”

Typically embarrassed by the compliment, she shook her head and spoke gruffly. “Never mind that.”