Remember Murder

Book 5: Claire Morgan Thriller Series

by Linda Ladd

Genres: Police Procedurals; Thrillers; Crime Fiction; Psychological Thrillers

Synopsis

A tough, no-nonsense detective. . .edgy, clever! --Beverly Barton Remember The Darkness She can't remember why he chose her--or what he did to her. But Detective Claire Morgan knows that something terrible happened to her the night a deranged serial killer escaped from the mental ward. Looking for pleasure. Looking for pain. Looking for her. . . Remember The Terror Recovering in a lakeside resort, Claire hopes to sort through her broken memories. But after suffering a temporary coma, she can barely remember her own lover, psychiatrist Nicholas Black. Would she be able to recognize her abductor if she saw him again? If he came back for more. . .? Remember Murder If only she could remember his face or his voice. . .if only she could comprehend the evil in his mind or the depths of his cruelty. . .if only she knew just how close he is--to her and everyone she loves. . . Praise For Linda Ladd's Claire Morgan Thrillers "One of the most creepy, crawly, and compelling psychological thrillers ever." -- Fresh Fiction "Chilling, compelling suspense. . .be prepared to lose sleep!" --Eileen Dryer "Exciting, thrill-a-minute!" -- Midwest Book Review "Plenty of suspense and surprises." -- Publishers Weekly 112,500

Release date: June 1, 2013

Publisher: eOriginals

Print pages: 320

Sample

I wasn’t sure where I was. I wasn’t sure who I was. I didn’t care. It was all misty gray and cool and ephemeral, like drifting inside the loveliest, quietest cloud ever created. I was just floating around, softly, swaying gently, and I liked it. It was peaceful and calm, no noise, no bother, no fear. I realized that I was anchored to the ground, somewhere far, far below, at the other end of a shiny silver tether that slipped down through the clouds mounding like giant, fluffy cotton below me. That didn’t matter. I didn’t want to think about it. I just wanted to be very still and enjoy the soft rocking motions of the gentle breezes. I wanted the clouds to take me higher, up very high, up into the bright white light making the clouds glow above me. It beckoned to me, but I couldn’t seem to make myself loosen the silver cord holding me in place so I could float up to that beautiful place.

I shut my eyes and knew nothing more until a man’s voice awoke me. It was deep and husky and sounded scared and insistent and determined. I didn’t like it, but the voice was familiar somehow, and somehow I knew I had to listen.

“Come on, baby, I know you can hear me. I know you can. You can come back. Just try, try to open your eyes, try to follow my voice back.” Then the voice melted away and there was a strangled sound, and I saw a face materialize inside my mind, with blue eyes and black hair, but I didn’t really recognize it. I ignored it then and let the rocking lull me to sleep again.

The voice came often and made me weary of listening because I liked the quiet. And then other voices came, not as often as the blue-eyed face, but enough to disrupt my peace and wake me up.

“It’s me, Claire, Bud. C’mon, please don’t do this to us. The doctors say you can recover, if you’ll just wake up. You’re in a coma, that’s the problem. You gotta wake up to get well. Charlie’s here, too. We’re all here.”

That voice didn’t even sound familiar. Neither did the ones that came after his. I slept again, wishing they would just leave me alone and give me the tranquility I wanted. But they didn’t, they wouldn’t stop, and the voices seemed to go on night and day and forever.

“It’s Black, Claire. Listen to me, listen, damn it. You can do this. Everybody’s been here to see you. It’s okay to wake up. I’ve got you back home now, and I’m not going anywhere until you open your eyes. You’ll be all right. It’s over. I’ve got the best doctors in the world on your case. You’re healing just fine. All you have to do is come back to me. You’ve got to come back. Just do it. Do it, Claire.”

I slept some more. The voice would not stop. Now it was reading to me. Shut up and go away, I thought. Leave me alone. That same face loomed in my mind, and he looked vaguely familiar now, but I still didn’t know him. I didn’t want to know him.

His voice seemed always to be there, always talking to me. “The sheriff needs you, Claire. You love being a detective, remember? You’re good at it. You’ve put lots of criminals behind bars. You got them, all of them. They’re never going to kill anybody again. Charlie needs you back on the job. I need you back.”

Then a long time later, another voice came in to wake me, slow and drawling. “Listen here, Claire Morgan, this’s Joe McKay. What you tryin’ to pull doin’ something like this? Scarin’ us all to death. You get your pretty little butt back here and outta this bed. Lizzie’s here with me. She wants to say hi, too.”

The more I heard the voices, the closer they seemed. They were dragging me down through the lovely clouds, down to wherever the silver rope was anchored, and I didn’t want to go down there. I wanted them to stop. I wanted to stay here in the soft silence so I resisted and tried to arrest the descent and shut my ears and not listen. Why wouldn’t they just leave me alone?

Then I heard the voice of a child, very indistinct and far away. Nothing more than a whisper. “Me and Jules is sad you’re sick.”

A vision erupted inside me, a little blond boy with chubby cheeks and chubby arms and a fishing pole with a little perch hanging on the hook. I didn’t know his name, but I knew he needed me. I haven’t seen him in so long. I gotta go back and find him. I left him somewhere, but I don’t know where. I’ve got to find him. He’ll be scared without me. I know he will.

Somehow I raised myself from that lovely, dreamy, pearly-white, peaceful bed and took hold of the silver rope. I began to pull myself down, hand over hand, down, down, listening for the little child’s voice until the other voices came closer and closer. The one named Black, who pestered me so relentlessly, said, “Oh, thank God, she’s coming to. She’s trying to wake up.”

I stopped there for a while, afraid, because the voices were now so near. Then finally, at long last, when they were quiet, I felt ready to face them. I opened my eyes to darkness, but shut them tight again, terror engulfing me. I tried to climb back up into the clouds, but now the lovely silence was gone, and the most terrible dreams came at me like monsters in the night. Then I heard a different voice, a terrible whispering voice, telling me something about an old warehouse on a river, telling me that we were finally together there, that we’d almost gotten away. And then a vision came in a rush, and I was tied to a chair, in a circle with other people, and someone was making the people shoot each other. Oh, God, please, help me. A man stood up and came toward me. He had a meat cleaver in his hand. He was going to kill me, but instead he turned to the man beside him and swung the cleaver hard. I fought desperately against the tape holding me, cringing back against the chair as he approached me with the bloody meat cleaver.

Panting, terrified, trembling in every nerve and fiber of her body, Claire Morgan opened her eyes. She was fully awake now, instantly cognizant of her surroundings. She was in a hospital bed in a dimly lit room that she’d never seen before. She tried to move, but both her wrists were bound to the bed railings! Oh, God, oh, God. Then she saw the big man sitting in a chair drawn up beside her. He was asleep, reading glasses still perched on his nose, an open manila folder in his lap. She didn’t know who he was. Was it the man in her dream, the one with the meat cleaver? Did he have her captive again?

Frantic to flee him and the dark room, she pulled and jerked on the bindings and realized that he’d put all kinds of tubes and wires on her arms and chest, ones that led to IV bags on a rolling stand. What was he doing to her? Drugging her? Horrified, she struggled harder against the cloth bed restraints. When alarms on the heart monitor beside her shattered the quiet with buzzes and bells, the guy in the chair jumped up and leaned over her. Her captor grabbed her shoulders and tried to stop her attempts to get out of the bed.

“Claire, oh, thank God. Listen to me, listen, you’re okay. Nobody’s going to hurt you. You probably had a bad dream. Calm down, I’m here. I’m right here.” Then his arms were around her, and he was holding her up tightly against his chest. He held her there, and she wanted to be free. She didn’t know him!

“Let me go, let go!”

Her voice came out hoarse and raspy, her mouth dry and parched. She could barely speak. Where was the meat cleaver? Was he going to kill her? A nurse in blue scrubs suddenly ran into the room and to her bedside. She began to adjust the machines. “Oh, my God, Nick! She’s awake!”

The man let go of her, but he kept his face down very close to hers. Cringing and pushing away from him, she felt his hand on her brow, very gentle. She tensed all over. Then she realized that this Nick guy was the man with black hair and pale blue eyes. She could see his eyes shining in the dim light. His voice was deep, very low and soothing when he spoke again. “It’s me, Claire. Nicholas Black. Do you remember me?”

“No, no, I don’t! Why is it so dark? Why am I tied up?”

“Ssh, baby, don’t fight me like this. I’m taking the bed restraints off right now. See, I’m untying them.” He continued to talk to her in that same soft, reassuring tone. Now his voice was beginning to sound vaguely familiar, like the one who talked to her so often. Now he was speaking to the nurse. “Monica, quick, turn on the lights, all of them.”

The man, Nick, was holding her left hand now between both of his, trying hard to calm her fears. Her heart raced; she didn’t understand any of this. “You’ve been dreaming a lot, sweetheart, having some pretty bad nightmares. You’ve been thrashing around, fighting against something. I was afraid you’d hurt yourself so I ordered the restraints. See, they’re off now. Nobody’s going to hurt you or tie you up again.”

As soon as the ties came off, she scooted back away from him as far as she could get. Confused, very weak, she pulled a pillow in front of her, a pitiful barrier against him, trying to understand what was going on. She had to calm down, she knew that, but her heart was thudding so hard that her body shook with each beat. Inhaling deep breaths, she managed to calm down a little bit, but it took a while. Her voice came out hoarse and trembling. “Tell me where I am. What is this place? What’s wrong with me?”

“You’re okay now. You were hurt in a car accident. You’ve got a serious head injury. You’ve been lying here in a coma for a long time.”

“I don’t remember that,” she said, and then added with renewed horror, “I don’t remember anything.”

“You will, I promise. It’s going to take time, that’s all.” The Nick guy smiled down at her. “How do you feel, babe? Do you want anything—a drink of water, anything at all?”

Claire shook her head and tried desperately to remain calm, and didn’t quite make it. “Just tell me where I am!”

“We’re at Cedar Bend Lodge. That’s where we live. Please, Claire, please just lie back and keep calm. Nobody here is going to hurt you, I swear to God.”

Staring up at him, she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t have a clue to who she was; she didn’t know if she could trust what he was saying. She’d never seen him before and never heard of any place called Cedar Bend Lodge. She felt sick to her stomach, like she was going to throw up. Bewildered and mind muddled, she tried desperately to relax her rigid muscles and lie still. Her heart still thundered. “Tell me who you are. Tell me why I’m here.”

“First things first, Claire. You’re completely safe, that’s the most important thing for you to remember right now. And you’ve got to trust me. I’m a doctor, your doctor. I’ve been taking care of you right here in this room since a few days after the accident. What you’re experiencing right now is called retrograde amnesia. It’s completely to be expected after a head injury like yours.” He stopped then, took his own deep breath, and looked upset. “Just don’t worry. Trust me, just for now, and I promise you that your memory will come back. The most important thing at the moment is for you to remain calm and quiet and let me take care of you.”

Not sure yet whether she could believe him, she did lie still and listen to what he said. She just felt so weak and queasy inside her stomach. She kept the pillow between her and him as he picked up her hand and took her pulse. Then he asked her to remove the pillow so he could listen to her heart. She did, but she didn’t want to. He put a stethoscope inside the neck of her hospital gown and listened to her heartbeat and then wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm. Then he nodded at the nurse and they started unhooking all the tubes and wires attached to her body. He smiled the entire time. So did the nurse. Claire frowned.

But she did feel more in control, now that the lights were on. She was inside a normal, regular bedroom, a very nice one, large and spacious with beautiful furnishings, not a hospital room. There were no people tied to chairs and nobody held a gun on anybody. Nicholas Black said he was a doctor and he acted like a doctor, and he wasn’t going to chop off anything on her person with a meat cleaver so her first wave of panic receded. She watched him pick up a plastic pitcher and give it to her. Her hands were still trembling so much that she had to hold it between her palms, but she took a little sip through the straw. She didn’t look at him again, trying to get her thoughts and emotions in order. She still felt uneasy, as if she was in danger from these people.

When she looked up at Nicholas Black again, he was still standing close beside the bed, smiling as if he was very happy to see her awake. “Do you mind if I ask you some questions, Claire?”

Claire? Yes, that was her name. Or was it? She nodded. Something was off with that name, Claire. It didn’t ring the right bells. Panic began to well up inside her again, but she mentally forced it back down. She felt mixed up and ill and afraid. But he was trying to help her remember, she knew that, and she wanted to believe that. “I’m not sure if that’s my name, or not, doctor.”

The tall, dark-haired doctor smiled. “You don’t remember your name?”

Something jabbed through the wall of darkness erected inside her head. “You called me Claire, but I’m not so sure about that.” Another glimpse came through, thank God. “A name just came to me. Annie, I remember the name Annie.” She grimaced, trying to force up more about it. “No, wait, it is Claire. Claire Morgan, I think. Tell me what happened again. I still don’t understand what happened to me.”

“Your name is Claire Morgan, and it’s a very good sign that you remember that. The car you were in went off a bridge into a river, and on impact, you hit your head on the windshield. You’ve been lying here in a coma for going on three weeks. Eighteen days, to be exact. Do you remember what state you live in?”

Now her mind seemed to be reacting, more things coming back, fuzzy, fleeting, but they were definitely trying to break out of the dark fog. “California. Los Angeles.” She thought hard for a few seconds and recalled something else. “I’m a detective. LAPD.”

The doctor and the nurse exchanged a quick but significant look that pretty much told her that she’d screwed up that answer. Somehow that scared her, and she shut her eyes to block the uncertainty out. She didn’t want to talk to them anymore, didn’t want to listen to the questions he was asking, or anything else he said. She wanted them to leave her alone, and let her figure out things on her own.

His deep voice came back, down close beside her ear, and then to her shock, he kissed her cheek. “That’s okay, Claire. You just rest. We’ll talk later. And in a little while, when you feel stronger, we’ll see if you can eat something, and then we’ll get you up and walking.”

The unknown doctor named Nicholas Black sat back down in the chair beside her, and the nurse named Monica glided out of the room with the kind of silent footfalls that only nurses commanded. Claire Morgan kept her eyes tightly closed after that, and tried to remember who the hell she was and what kind of life she’d had before she’d gone off that bridge and ended up tied to a bed.

I felt myself being dragged on the ground by the hood of my parka. I couldn’t move my muscles; my arms and legs felt frozen. I heard a latch click and felt somebody rolling me over into a long glass aquarium tank. I tried to see through the glass, but it was too dirty. I couldn’t think straight. What was wrong with me? Desperately, I tried to shake myself awake and make sense of what was going on. I shifted my head and realized the side of my face was resting on a soft white padding. Cobwebs. Oh, God.

I struggled as hard as I could to move my limbs, but they felt like deadweights. Above me there were holes in the glass top. I couldn’t see anything around me, but I was afraid something was in the case with me. Someone was above me, looking down through the glass. I couldn’t reach my weapon. I had to get out. I had to escape, and I saw something come through the hole and bounce on my chest. Oh, my God, what was it? I had to get it off. I had to get it off!

Abruptly, Claire came awake, clawing at the air, trying to fight her way out of that awful glass coffin, yelling, and hysterical, but gentle hands caught hers and held them together. The doctor was there, leaning down close, whispering quiet words.

“It’s just a dream, Claire, that’s all. A bad dream. Everything’s all right. I’m right here. I’m not going to let anybody hurt you.”

It took her a while to believe that, and as he dabbed the sweat off her forehead, she kept quivering, trying to recall more, but she couldn’t. All she could remember was the fear, the horror, and the realization that something terrible was going to happen to her.

“Ssh, sweetheart. It’s just a nightmare. Your mind’s protecting you from some bad memories, but your subconscious lets some of them come through. You’re safe. I’m going to give you a shot right now that will help you go back to sleep without dreaming.” She felt the prick of the needle and welcomed it. “I’ll stay right here with you, Claire. Right here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise you.”

Claire couldn’t stop shaking, and couldn’t understand what was going on, but he had been there with her earlier when she first woke up. He wasn’t the one in the nightmare; she knew that much. He wasn’t going to hurt her, she didn’t think, so she clung to his hand and didn’t want to let go. After a few minutes, when she was sinking down into that deep and coveted medicated sleep, she felt him stretch out on the bed beside her and pull her bodily against him. Utter shock was her first reaction, disbelief that any doctor would do such a thing. Her primitive instinct was to protest, but she didn’t really have the strength or will to do much, only knowing that she felt safer with his arms around her.

More than anything, she didn’t want to be left alone with the strange and unknown landscape of her mind. She wanted someone to hold her close and protect her from whatever evil was stalking her. Dr. Black felt big and strong and protective and he held her as if he wouldn’t let her go. In time, she stopped worrying about all that, her racing heart slowing down to normal, and she lay comfortably inside the circle of his arms.

At that moment, she didn’t care if she knew who he was; all she cared about was being safe. She fought sleep as long as she could, and he spoke softly into her hair, low and soothing words, whispering that everything was going to be all right. In time, he slept, too, still holding her. Then, against her will, the drug took her down into the darkness with it, and she closed her eyes and drifted off into a restless, tortured slumber, but without the dreams of danger that she could not explain.

When Claire next opened her eyes, she jerked upright and found herself alone in the same hospital bed, the doctor gone and no one else in sight. She called out his name, but it was the nurse named Monica who came running. She helped Claire lie back against the pillows. “I’m sorry. I stepped outside for just a second. Don’t be afraid. You’re fine.”

“Where’s the doctor?” Claire said, composure slipping a notch. “He was right here with me. Or was he? Did I dream that?”

Monica didn’t seem to know the answer to those questions, but she smiled down at Claire, very relaxed and efficient and pleasant. She was a pretty girl, very small and slight. “You’re fine. You weren’t dreaming. He just left the room a little while ago. He had to shower and check on his other patients out in the bungalows. He’ll be back soon.”

Kind Nurse Monica’s serene demeanor transferred to Claire, and she did relax. She was still fighting confusion, but her mind was clearer now and she was feeling more like herself. She remembered waking up. She remembered how he’d held her and kept her safe from those awful dreams.

“I bet you’d like something to eat, wouldn’t you? How about a light breakfast? Just until you feel better?”

The desire for food hadn’t occurred to Claire, but she nodded. “Who are you again?” she asked as Monica fluffed her pillows and straightened the sheets and blanket.

“My name’s Monica Wheeler. I’m an RN. Dr. Black hired me to be your private nurse. I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally see you awake.”

Claire considered all that, but she lay still and watched Monica pick up a menu off the bedside table and open it. “How about some orange juice, Claire, or grapefruit juice? Apple juice, maybe. Does that sound good? Or hot chicken broth? You need to start off light, but the sooner you get food in your stomach, the stronger you’ll feel.”

“I want to get up.”

“Okay, you can. But let’s wait a little while. After you eat will be a good time to try to walk. Okay?”

“Okay. How about coffee?”

“Of course. I’ll call downstairs and have them send a pot right up. You can probably tolerate dry toast, too. Then after that, if the doctor agrees, we’ll get you up and I’ll help you take a shower.”

All that sounded good. She wanted out of that bed. Claire lay back and stared out the windows when the nurse threw back the draperies and flooded the dim room with sunlight. The window was large and unobstructed, and a beautiful and shimmering expanse of lake water and azure blue sky met her gaze. The bright sunshine helped put aside the dark places inside her dreams.

The doctor returned when she was choking down a piece of cardboard toast, and the nurse glided out of the room. He came over and stood at her bedside and beamed down at her. “You look a lot better today.”

“Thank you for staying with me last night,” she said, right off the bat, and truly meant it.

“I’ve wanted to hold you like that for weeks.”

What the hell? Frowning, Claire said nothing as he poured himself a cup of coffee out of the decanter on her breakfast tray, as if the kitchen knew he’d want some and provided a second cup for him. She found his comment confusing. “Why?”

“Because I love you.”

Now that was a shockeroo. Holy crap. “You love me?”

“Yeah, and you love me, too.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You will soon enough. We’ve been lovers for a long time now.”

Wow, he believed in putting it out on the line. But that was more information than she wanted to handle at the moment. She wasn’t so sure she believed it, either. She shut her eyes and pretended to sleep until he went away. But she did feel stronger, now that she’d eaten a bite, and she was bound and determined to get up and out of that bed before the day was done.

Lunch consisted of Melba toast, cream of chicken soup, lime Jell-O, and apple juice. Yeah, a real appetizing spread after eighteen days of fasting. It was gross, and she didn’t eat much of it. By that time, her ragged nerves were knitting together and well under control, and she began to feel more like herself. But she wasn’t sure who herself was, so go figure. Her confusion was letting up a tad, and she found it strange, almost interesting, that she couldn’t remember much about her past. A few things clicked in place, of course, regular day-to-day mundane routines. But she couldn’t recall any accident or much else that had gone down since she’d left Los Angeles. Even some things before and during her sojourn in L.A. were crouched down and hiding in great wide chasms inside her brain.

By force of will, she mustered enough strength to get up and let Monica walk her into the bathroom. She showered and washed her hair by hanging on to the bar on the shower wall, with the ever-solicitous Teensy Monica standing close, waiting with a big fluffy black towel. Claire watched the bathroom door, half afraid that Dr. Black a.k.a. the-man-who-claimed-to-be-her-lover-but-that-she’d-never-seen-before-in-her-life was going to barge in himself and lather up some serious bubbly suds on her person. No way. She would jerk the brake on that idea fast enough.

Maybe he held her last night and she appreciated that about as much as was humanly possible, that’s for damn sure. You betcha, after that horrific scary dream. Maybe they were hot to trot before her accident—she sure didn’t have a clue if they were or not. Not that he would be a bad guy to trot with. But even if they were lovers, he was the only one out of the two of them who knew it. Thus her reticence to share her bathtub and naked body with him was to be understood.

Already craving more substantial fare, for instance, a Quarter Pounder with cheese or a Big Mac, or both, and supersized fries with a Cherry Coke would hit the spot. To no avail. With vocal protestations that she could walk just fine now, thank you very much, she was taken via wheelchair by the aforementioned Monica down a long and über-luxurious black marble hallway to Dr. Black’s private office. He wasn’t there. Some bedside manner that, huh? Especially if he was her honey and true love, and all that rot, as he had so professed, and earnestly, too.

Monica got her settled in front of the doc’s giant and expensive teak desk and put the brakes on her wheelchair, and did a few other nurselike busy things. Jeez, where were her lap blanket and hearing aids? She was beginning to feel like an eighty-year-old invalid with two broken legs. Truth was, though, she felt a whole hell of a lot better after her ultra-delicious lunch. All she had to do was keep it down, and maybe somebody would sneak in some decent fast food. But so far, so good. Funny how no meat cleavers made life seem grand. All in all, though, she was feeling exceptionally well, considering the fact that she’d been deeply comatose around this time yesterday with demonic creatures chasing her around with sharp weapons.

Fifteen seconds after Monica left the room, Claire stood up without any nursemaid’s help and did feel a bit woozy for a second or two, but hey, that was understandable enough. The dizzy spell passed quickly. But she wasn’t deranged, just forgetful, so she needed to take things slowly and carefully, unless she wanted to end up tied to that bed again. She had thoroughly inspected her face and physique in the bathroom mirror after she took her shower. Her arms and legs were quite muscular and lean, and nothing seemed particularly out of whack or broken or distressing to her sensibilities. There were a few massively gigantic and hideous scars on her person that she couldn’t explain the origin of, and that Monica didn’t seem capable of explaining, either. But on all other accounts, she seemed to be a healthy enough specimen of law officer, after surviving that pesky coma thing.

Claire found she could walk fine, just as she told Monica earlier. She was just a little wobbly and uncoordinated, but she could stumble her way from point A to B well enough. She wouldn’t be running any charity 5K race anytime soon, but she wasn’t particularly wild and impetuous, either, so she braced one hand on the shiny desktop as she moved alongside it. A moment later, she stopped her exhausting trek to the other end of the desk and stared out the vast set of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water and one sweet view. The good Dr. Black’s practice was going like a house on fire, she figured. Great, even, if he could afford digs like this. Well, good deal, maybe that meant he had the expertise to make her remember nearly everything about herself, which at the moment made a blank blackboard look chatty. The idea sobered her some, depressed her, even.

She’d been struggling to recall things ever since she woke up all freaked out and crybaby scared, but she had yet to get past the large dark hole sucking everything out of her brain. She kept getting quick flashes, cute little film clips, in fact, of faces, of places, of people, and lots of them, but didn’t know who or what or why. Yes, aforementioned snuggle-happy doctor had assured her that all would be well and normal as the day was long, but could she believe him? Yep, she had landed in the proverbial pits, believe it.

On the other hand, good Doc Black had to be super savvy with head examining. Just one look at that Picasso hanging on the wall behind his desk proved it. The painting looked to her like a woman’s face with one large and rather bulbous almond-shaped eye, a pig’s snout kind of nose sticking out the side, all of which were sliding down her neck. Jeez, she’d seen better stuff in a preschool class. But hey, she did recognize the artist. Good sign, right? If she could remember Pablo Picasso, maybe she could eventually remember where she lived.

Claire hobbled around the desk and checked the artist’s signature, just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming again. Yes, indeedy, it was a legit Picasso, for God’s sake. And with its own special little spotlight pouring down on it. Yikes, that prize had to cost said doc a pretty penny. She usually hated rich guys with a passion, and their arrogant, entitled behavior even more, so maybe Claire didn’t love Dr. Nick as much as he thought she did.

And where was her supposed lover slash doting doctor, anyway? The guy was supposed to be in love with her, right? So where was he and what was he doing? Taking a snooze down the hall? Probably, if indeed, he’d really spent all those nights hovering over her bed and wanting to get in it with her. But she did appreciate him jumping in last n