Adrienne nodded again, then, to avoid his intent gaze, looked down at her hands. Her fingers were clenched together, an obvious sign of nervousness.
He reached over and separated her hands. “Relax, honey, everything is going to be just fine.” Laying them gently on the blanket, he touched her left ring finger. She’d taken off her ring before she left Boston, but the mark from it remained. “Dr. Yamana said you only remember that your name is Amy Delaney and that I’m your husband.”
She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t think of a thing to say.
Sam smiled. “It’s okay, you don’t have to talk.” His smile faded. “There are some things you need to know about your accident.”
His comment surprised her. “I was running, and I fell.” It seemed simple enough.
“Yes.” He nodded. “Into the road, right in front of my truck. It scared the hell out of me. Thank God, my brakes were good or I might have hit you.”
The anguish in his eyes touched her. She reached out to him. “I’m sorry.”
He took her hand in his and smiled. “You’ve more than made up for it in the last three years.”
Shocked, she drew back. “Three years? What are you talking about?”
“The accident you remember took place three years ago,” he said gently.
“But…” She reached up and touched the bandage on her head.
“This was caused by something entirely different. You were vacuuming. You slipped on the cord and hit your head on the vacuum.”
“I was vacuuming!” This had to be a joke. She hadn’t vacuumed in years. She and Vaughn had always been too busy for housework.
Vaughn. This had something to do with him. Was he trying to prove her insane? Crazy people weren’t reliable witnesses. The police wouldn’t believe a word she said.
She looked at Sam, deeply disappointed. She’d hoped he was different, that his gentleness was genuine. Now it seemed he was just someone Vaughn had sent to do his dirty work. Maybe he was the one she’d heard coming after her the night of the accident.
She hoped Vaughn had paid him well. His acting ability appeared to be top-notch. He’d almost had her fooled.
Well, one thing was clear. She couldn’t let him know she’d figured out their plan. She decided to test him.
“Where was I vacuuming?”
“At our house.”
That threw her. “Our house?”
“Yes, yours and mine.”
“We live together?” She’d never seen this man before in her life. How could he possibly claim they lived together? How could Vaughn believe he’d get away with such an outrageous lie? How did they plan to prove it?
Her stomach dropped when she realized she might actually have helped them prove it, when she’d told the doctor she was Amy Delaney and Sam was her husband.
“Yes, we do live together.” Sam looked at her closely, as if waiting for a reaction. “We’re…married.”
Adrienne saw red as anger overwhelmed her. She’d told the doctor this man was her husband, and now he was actually trying to prolong the charade. This man wasn’t here to protect her. He was using her.
She stared at the man who claimed to be her husband, trying to figure him out. What made him think he could get away with this?
What she saw in his expression confused her. His blue eyes held more than a hint of concern. In fact, he looked almost afraid.
Which was just as ridiculous as everything else that had happened in the past couple of hours. What did he have to be afraid of? She was the one who didn’t know what the hell was going on!
“Amy, are you all right?” Sam asked, reaching out.
She jerked her hand back before he could touch her again. Anger and confusion warred inside her. Anger won. “I’m just ducky. I love being called by somebody else’s name. I never saw you before today and you’re claiming I’m your wife. On top of that, you’re actually trying to tell me that I fell in front of your truck three years ago and I got this bump on my head tripping over a cord in ‘our’ house. How could I not be all right? I’ve stumbled into some damn rabbit hole!”
Sam stared at her as if she’d turned into the rabbit. “You don’t believe me.”
Trying to rub away the pain once again pounding against her forehead, Adrienne felt suddenly weary. “Of course I don’t believe you.”
He reached over and retrieved the newspaper he’d brought with him. He laid it on her lap. “Look at this.”
She glanced down at the paper. The headline dealt with some foreign political problem. “Look at what?”
“The date,” he said.
She read the date. She read it again. “This can’t be real.” Frantically, she searched each page for some sign this was a mocked-up version of the newspaper.
She looked at Sam. “Tell me this isn’t real.”
“I can’t, honey. It is real.”
“How can it be?” Her head began to swim. Tears threatened. She swiped them away. “How can I have forgotten three years of my life?”
“Oh, sunshine.” Sam gently wiped the tears that refused to be stayed. “You did more than that.”
Adrienne felt so tired she couldn’t even raise a protest at this intimacy. “What do you mean?”
“Until you woke up in the hospital today, you’d forgotten everything about yourself and your past.”
“What?”
“You didn’t know who you were or where you came from. You had identification that gave us your name and your address, but—”
“Wait!” she interrupted. Putting her hands over her burning eyes, she tried to think. She’d had identification? That couldn’t be right. She’d been running away. She’d left her driver’s license and credit cards behind, she knew it. A vague memory prodded her brain. A man handing her something, her handing him a thick envelope in return. She looked at Sam. “What name was on the ID?”
Sam gazed at her searchingly before he answered. “Amy Nichols, from Los Angeles, California. Casey tried to find your phone number, but it was unlisted. He had a friend go to the address listed, but they had never heard of Amy Nichols.”
Of course they hadn’t, Adrienne thought. Because she had never lived in Los Angeles, and she wasn’t Amy Nichols.
“We ran your picture in the L.A. Times, as well as the local paper,” Sam continued, “but no one came forward.”
“No one?” She needed the clarification. She needed to know the fake ID had worked.
Sam shook his head. “I’m sorry.”