Killer Body

Savvy pulled her hands free of Dawson’s, a frown tracing furrows in her forehead. “Does he think I killed his son?”

“The local news media got hold of the story.” Young glanced up at the empty television screen. “Everyone in south Texas and the northern regions of Mexico knows Tomas Rodriguez is dead. It’s been all over the news stations. Once Humberto gets wind that you were the one holding the smoking gun, we’ve no doubt he’ll be after you. Based on the earlier attack I was informed of, sounds like he already knows who and where you are.”

Savvy lay back against the pillows and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Great. Everyone knows who I am but me.”

The Dawson of a couple months ago would have headed for the nearest bar to escape his troubles. And frankly, the call of whiskey had him licking dry lips. One glance at the pale, defenseless woman lying in the hospital bed dispelled any lingering desire to drown his worries in booze. The police force hadn’t protected her. Young had been right, someone who didn’t have a stake in the region needed to handle this job.

“Knock, knock.” A dark-haired woman poked her head through the door and smiled.

Dawson stepped between the door and Savvy’s bed, shielding her from any possible threat.

“This is Savvy Jones’s room, right?” The woman eased through the doorway, her brows dipping low on her forehead.

“Yes, it is, Ms. Scott.” Frank Young closed the distance between them. “Please come in. Maybe if Ms. Jones sees a familiar face it will jog her memory.” Young cupped the woman’s elbow and drew her toward the bed. “Savvy, do you remember Liz Scott? She’s the coworker who found you in the alley.”

Savvy stared up at the slim woman with the long, dark brown hair hanging down around her shoulders.

She wore faded jeans and a white cotton blouse with the sleeves rolled up. “Hi, sweetie,” Liz said in a soft Southern drawl as she set a bud vase with a single yellow rose on the nightstand beside the bed. “I brought you some clean clothes for when they release you.” She held up a canvas bag, tears pooling in her eyes as she forced a shaky smile. “How are you feelin'? You gave us all quite a scare.”

Panic swelled in Savvy’s chest as she looked up at the woman and tried to remember her. She looked nice, and she acted as if she knew her, but nothing triggered in her memory to remind her who she was. “Do I know you?”

Tears tipped over the edge of Liz’s eyes and she forced a laugh. “Yes, honey, you do. We work together at the Waterin’ Hole. You’re the only one there who keeps me from walloping the customers. And you babysit my Charlie sometimes.” Liz glanced across at the D.A. and back at Savvy and shrugged. “What did the doctor say about the memory loss? Does he think it’s only temporary?”

Savvy shrugged. “We won’t know until the memories return … or not.” She leaned forward and grasped Liz’s hand. “I’m sorry, but could you tell me more about … me?”

“I’ll tell you everything I know.” Liz’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “Which doesn’t amount to a whole hill of beans.”

“Why?” Savvy asked, anxious to recover her past and frustrated about the lack of information forthcoming. “Am I a bad person?”

“Oh, no, not at all. You’ve been the best thing since sliced bread to me and Charlie.” Liz held her hand and perched on the side of the bed. “You’re not just my coworker, you’re my friend and have been since you came to live in the same apartment complex four months ago.”

“Where?” Savvy gulped, drinking in everything the woman said, wanting so badly to fill the empty spaces in her memory. “Where do we live?”

“In the Oasis Apartments complex close to the Waterin’ Hole. You’re in 212, Charlie and I are in 215. Which reminds me …” She dropped Savvy’s hand and stood, digging in her back pocket. She pulled out a folded sheet of paper and handed it to Savvy. “Charlie sent this.”

“Charlie …” Another name she couldn’t put a face to. She fought back tears as she accepted the paper and unfolded it. A large, purple heart drawn in crayon filled the page. In the center, written in a child’s bold print, were the words We love you, Savvy.

A familiar ache filled her chest as she stared down at the crinkled paper. Familiar and yet forgotten in the depths of her muddled mind. “Charlie is …”

“My seven-year-old, precocious daughter.” Liz patted Savvy’s arm. “She worships the ground you walk on.”

Savvy stared up at the woman, her eyes blurring with tears. “I don’t remember her.” Her tears fell on the page she held, a sob rising up her throat. “I don’t remember whether or not I have a family and, I’m so sorry, but I don’t remember you.” More tears followed until her body shook.

Liz rubbed her back, her hand warm and comforting. “Oh, sweetie, it’ll be okay. You’ll get it back.”

The D.A. moved closer. “Yes, and when you do, I want to talk to you. I—we need to know who else was in that alley with you and Tomas Rodriguez. It could mean all the difference in your defense.”

Her eyes widening, Liz stepped between the D.A. and Savvy. “Savvy didn’t kill that man. She wouldn’t do that.”

Could she really be tried for murder? Did they really think she’d killed a man? Savvy raised her hands. The most frightening question yet was could she have done it? Think, Savvy, think! She squeezed her eyes closed and pressed the bridge of her nose with her fingertips. The more she tried to remember, the more her head ached. When she opened her eyes, the two men stared at her. The D.A. hovering like a vulture ready to pounce on roadkill. Dawson with pity and concern written into the lines creasing his forehead. God, she didn’t want to think, and didn’t want anyone’s pity, especially from this man who claimed to be her bodyguard, albeit a reluctant bodyguard. Her chest ached and her eyes burned. Savvy didn’t want to cry, but couldn’t hold back much longer. She reached out and gripped Liz’s hand. “Please, make them go away.”

Through her tears, she could see the slight narrowing of Dawson’s eyes. He turned to the D.A. and took his arm, steering him toward the door. “Look, you said you didn’t think she did it. Give her some space. Maybe she’ll remember who did.”

Frank hesitated, “But I have more questions.”

“Questions she obviously can’t answer. Let the woman rest. She’s been through enough for one day.”

With that, Frank Young let the bodyguard herd him out of Savvy’s hospital room, the door swinging closed behind them.

“There, now.” Liz smoothed the hair out of Savvy’s face and smiled at her. “They’re gone. Is there anything I could do for you?”

“Yes.” Savvy gulped back the ready tears and scrubbed the end of the sheet across her cheeks. “You can tell me who I am.”

Liz squeezed her hand. “Well, now, I can tell you this … you showed up four months ago at the apartment complex, looking for a furnished apartment. I remember that day because you looked kind of sad and desperate. All you had with you was a small bag filled with clothes. You didn’t have a job and only carried enough money in your pocket to pay the first month’s rent. The apartment manager almost didn’t let you rent because you didn’t even have a driver’s license, credit card or any other form of identification on you.”

“None? But where did I come from? Why did I go there?”

“You said you’d driven until you’d run out of gas and very nearly ran out of money.” Liz’s lips twisted. “You never told me why. I think you were running away from something or someone.”

Savvy’s forehead crinkled, pulling at the bandage at her temple. The pain reminded her that she was awake, alive and not dreaming this horrible nightmare. Who am I?

“I hope you don’t mind, but after the ambulance carried you away to the hospital, I checked through your purse, hoping to find information about next of kin, but didn’t find a driver’s license, medical insurance or any other form of identification.” Liz shrugged. “I’m not sure if you have someone somewhere who could be getting worried about you. I’ve been your friend for four months, but I don’t know much about your past.”

Savvy shook her head, pulling her hand from Liz’s warm fingers. “It’s as if I don’t exist.” Her chest tightened, making it harder for her to breathe. The room seemed to shrink in size as she stared at the sterile white walls of the hospital room, her heartbeat increasing its pace until it pounded against her ribs. “I need to get out of here.”

Liz frowned. “Has the doctor released you? Are you cleared to leave?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I have to get out.” She pushed the sheets aside and slid her legs over the side of the mattress, ready to walk out, until she remembered her previous attempts and how weak she’d been. She hated being dependent on anyone, but knew she might end up reinjuring her head if she fell again. “Will you help me?”

“Of course, but should you be getting up?” Liz gripped Savvy’s elbow and helped her to her feet. “I mean, you’ve had a head injury.”

Determination to do this on her own filled Savvy and stiffened her legs. This time when her feet hit the floor, she remained standing. Whether she trembled from the effort or from the lingering effects of the drugs still wearing off, she didn’t care. “That’s good. I can do this.” Now what? She couldn’t waltz out of here in a hospital gown.

“I don’t know about this.” Liz held on to her arm, her gaze darting for the door as if hoping the two men would return and rescue her. “You should stay until the doctor says you’re good to go.”

“I can’t. I have to get back to familiar surroundings. Maybe that will help me to remember.”

Still holding her arm, Liz stepped in front of her. “You’re pushing it, Savvy. You need to take care of yourself.” She cupped her face with her hand. “Honey, you could have died.”

“I might as well have never lived. I don’t remember anything. Do you even have a clue how that feels? My mind is completely blank. Nothing. Nada.” Savvy threw her hand in the air and teetered.

“It’ll take time, sweetie. You might not get your memory back in a day.” Liz stared at the door. “You’re not ready to go out there. It’s crazy.”

“I’m spinning my wheels here in the hospital, getting nowhere. Nothing here triggers a single memory. Nothing. I need familiar territory. I want to go to my apartment to see if anything comes back.” Savvy’s hand raised to Liz’s still cupping her face. “If you’re really my friend you’ll help me.”

For a long moment, Liz stared into Savvy’s eyes, then she glanced at the bandage swathing her head and finally she sighed. “Do you need help getting dressed?”

“No, I think I can manage.” Relief flooded Savvy. Tightrope-like tension followed immediately. She let go of Liz and took several tentative steps toward the bathroom. Although wobbly, she managed on her own. At the bathroom door, she grabbed for the handle.

“Hey, you’ll need these.” Liz eased past her and set the bag of clothes on the floor inside the bathroom. “Don’t be a hero. I can help. All you have to do is ask.”

Savvy gave her a shy smile. “Thanks. I will.” She closed the door between them and leaned on the bathroom sink. Taking a deep breath, she raised her head and stared into the mirror, hoping that seeing her own face would trigger her missing memories.

Hope died when she gazed at the woman in the reflection. A white bandage covered her left temple, held in place by a strip of gauze wrapped around her head. Strawberry-blond hair, matted with specks of blood fell over her shoulders and down her back. Deep green eyes looked back at her … eyes of a stranger. Nothing in the mirror made her remember this woman, or her past.

A sob rose up her throat and she choked it down. She couldn’t cry over her loss—she wouldn’t. If she wanted to recover her memory, she had to go to familiar places, touch her things, live the life she’d been living to get it back, memories and all.

Since her face didn’t jog her memory, she’d have to go to the places she’d lived and worked. If they didn’t find evidence of another suspect, she’d be arrested and charged with the murder of Tomas Rodriguez. The sooner she remembered, the sooner she could clear her name, before the authorities decided to toss her in jail.

A sense of urgency filled her as she dug into the gym bag Liz had brought. She found clean jeans, a blue Dallas Cowboys T-shirt, panties, bra and white tennis shoes, a hairbrush and toothbrush.

Careful not to disturb her wound, she washed her face, dressed, stopping now and again when her head swam with the effort. Clothed and feeling a bit steadier on her feet, she tackled the gauze circling her head, peeling it off, round by round. When she pulled the bandage away, a two-inch square, white gauze bandage peeked out of the edge of her hairline near her temple.

Using a clean washcloth, she dabbed at the dried blood and residual orange-colored disinfectant used around the bandage. Gently working the brush through her hair, she restored it to some semblance of order, draping the hair over the wound as best she could, hiding most of it. Pale and shaky, she stepped from the bathroom, having accomplished the tasks in less than five minutes. “I’m ready. Can you give me a lift?”

Liz held out her arm. “If you insist. I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”

“I have to do it. Someone has to be trying to frame me. Until I remember what happened, I’m the prime suspect. My memory is the only thing standing between me and jail.”

“Savvy, you may or may not get your memory back.” Liz smiled sadly. “What then?”

“I’m taking this one bite at a time.” Savvy pushed through the door to her room and out into the hallway, walking right into Dawson’s chest.

Oh yeah, she had to convince her court-appointed bodyguard to let her leave the hospital.

Chapter Four

Dawson gripped Savvy’s arms and steadied her. “Why are you out of bed?”

She straightened and pushed away from him. “I’m going home.” When she tried to pull free of his hands, his grip tightened.

“Not until the doc releases you, you aren’t.”

She stared up at him, her mouth thinning, tears awash in her eyes. “I have to. Don’t you see? I can’t remember anything here. I have to be around my own things.”

“You can wait until tomorrow.”

“No.” She reached up to pry his hands loose, her weakened state making her attempt ineffectual. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. Not knowing is driving me crazy. Let me go.” A single tear tipped over the edge of her eyelid and slid down her cheek. “Please.”

He could have resisted if she’d yelled and screamed at him, but the one tear and her anguished plea jerked at his heart, reawakening the dormant organ. How could he resist those eyes staring up at him as if he held her world in his hands? For a moment, he wavered. “No, it’s not safe out there.”

Savvy’s lips twisted in a half grin, her eyes shimmering. “And it’s safe here?”

She had a point. The attack that morning had almost ended his assignment before it had begun. “It’s easier to protect you inside a building than out in the open. The avenues for attack multiply exponentially once you step out the hospital doors.”

“Either I get attacked outside or I go crazy stuck in my room. I prefer to take my chances.” She brushed away the moisture from her eyes and laid a determined hand on his arm. “Are you with me? Because, if not, I’ll go without you.”

Electric impulses shot up Dawson’s arm where Savvy’s hand touched him. The low sexy voice, the eyes glittering with unshed tears threatened to bring him to his knees, if he let it. With a hard-won deep breath, he shook off her hand, unwilling to let himself care more about her than the job warranted. “It’s your funeral.” He turned, and without offering her any assistance, he marched toward the exit.

Liz leaned close and whispered in a not-so-quiet voice, “A bit uptight, if you ask me. But very sexy in that he-man kind a way.” She gave a soft wolf whistle.

Dawson shook his head. “I heard that.”

A bright pink flush rose up from Savvy’s collar and flooded her cheeks. “I wouldn’t know. He’s just a bodyguard to me, for the sake of whatever, he’s my fake fiancé.” Her gaze connected with his as if daring him to refute her statement.

“Not your real fiancé?”

“No, it just makes it easier for him to get past the nurses.”

Liz’s cheeks dimpled. “In that case, would you mind if I made a pass at your guy?”

Savvy’s fingers clenched into fists at her sides, and she bit down hard on her lip. “He’s not mine. Do whatever you like.” She pushed a long strand of strawberry-blond hair over her shoulder and closed the distance between herself and Dawson.

He’d bet behind that tough-gal exterior, her legs shook and she teetered on the verge of collapse. With her shoulders flung back, she didn’t let a single sign of weakness shine through. She probably thought that if she did, Dawson would have her back in the hospital so fast her head would be spinning more than it already was.

Damn right he would. But he couldn’t help admiring her pluck. He preferred it over the tears.

Pausing at the glass door, Dawson performed a three-hundred-sixty-degree turn, his gaze going to every corner of the lobby before he stared out at the street quickly growing dark. A gathering of fifty or sixty people stood in front of the emergency entrance. Scattered among them were news reporters and camerapersons, at the center stood the D.A.

Savvy peered through the glass. “Why is there a crowd?”

Though her voice came out weaker than a whisper, Dawson heard it.

Dawson’s jaw tightened. “Looks like the D.A. is giving a statement.”

“The news report about Tomas’s death generated quite a stir.” Liz grinned. “The people out there are actually here to thank you for shooting Tomas Rodriguez.”

Savvy’s hand rose to her throat and she tried to swallow. “But why?”

“Tomas had a nasty habit of raping young women on both sides of the border,” Liz answered.

“If people knew this, why wasn’t he caught and prosecuted?” Savvy asked.

Liz’s lips twisted into a frown. “The rape victims never brought charges against him. Word is that he threatened to kill family members if the victims turned him in. These people are here to thank you, Savvy, for saving their young girls from that monster.”

“I don’t remember shooting anyone,” Savvy said quietly.

A chill snaked its way down Dawson’s spine as he stared out at the women and children standing outside the hospital holding up signs written in Spanish and English. The one sign he could make out from behind the glass doors of the hospital said Thank God and Thank Ms. Jones. A lead weight settled in his gut and he backed away from the door, intent on taking Savvy with him. “There are too many people out there. This is a bad idea.” Dawson faced Savvy, blocking her path to the door.

“I’m going home.” Savvy touched his arm. “Don’t worry, if something happens to me, I won’t blame you.”

He stared down at the hand on his arm, the gentle touch searing his skin. “You won’t have to, I’ll blame myself.” His glance rose to her face. “Give it another day.”

“I can’t.” She shook her head without breaking eye contact. “Besides, I want to hear what the D.A. has to say.”

With a sigh and a cold sense of dread, he faced the door. “Then at least stay behind me. If someone wants you dead, they’ll be waiting for a clear shot.”

“Wow, you’ve got me convinced.” Liz’s eyes darted left and right. “You don’t think someone will try to hurt her out there, do you?”

“Someone wants her dead in a bad way,” Dawson responded without taking his gaze off the crowd. “Ready?” He looked around at Savvy’s pale face. “It’s your call.”

She nodded, straightening her spine. “I’m ready.”

He had to hand it to her. She might be stupid to step into the line of fire, but she had nerve. Dawson pushed through the glass doors. “Stay close.”

SAVVY WALKED OUT into the heat of south Texas behind Dawson, hovering so close to him that when he came to a stop, she bumped into his back. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. The closer you are to me, the less of a target you’ll make.”

She swallowed. “But what about you?”

A low chuckle rumbled inside his chest, shaking the hand she rested on his warm back. “Don’t worry, if I get hurt, I won’t blame you.”

Wouldn’t blame her? How could he not blame her? Savvy second-guessed herself. Neither she nor Dawson would be hurt if she did as he’d asked and stayed in the hospital for at least one more night.

A quick look behind her firmed her resolve. No. She couldn’t go back in there. She’d always think of the hospital as a plain white void where she’d woken to nothing. No memory, no past, no family. She gritted her teeth and clutched the fabric of Dawson’s shirt in her fist. She couldn’t go back.

Savvy touched Dawson’s arm, urging him to stop so that she could listen to what the D.A. had to say.

“Did Savvy Jones really kill Tomas Rodriguez?” A reporter held a microphone in the D.A.'s face, her cameraperson behind her.

“At this point Savvy Jones is just a person of interest. An investigation is being conducted. As we learn more, we’ll keep the media informed.”

A man with shaggy brown hair, carrying a pocket-size camera pushed his way through the crowd of reporters. “What do you know about Ms. Jones?”

The D.A. frowned. “That she lives in Laredo and works as a waitress at the Waterin’ Hole Bar and Grill.”

“Is Savvy Jones her real name?”

“Rest assured,” Young said, “we’re conducting an investigation on all persons involved in the incident, including a thorough background check on each.”

“Is it true Ms. Jones has only been in Laredo for the past four months?”

“Yes.” Young’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have a particular direction you’re going with this line of questioning?”

The man looked all innocence. “No. Just checking.”

Savvy leaned forward. “Why is that man asking so many questions about me?”

A woman in the crowd pointed at Savvy and shouted, “It’s her!”

Then as if surrounded by quicksand, Savvy was quickly engulfed in a swarm of hot bodies and grasping hands. A large woman pushed her way between Dawson and Savvy, cutting her off from her lifeline.

Savvy reached out for Dawson, but couldn’t quite get past the determined woman who had grabbed her hands, pressing kisses to the backs of her fingers. “Gracias, señorita, gracias!” She stuffed a photograph into Savvy’s hands and, curling her fingers around the tattered edges, she kissed her hands again and moved away.

Jostled from one person to another, with flashbulbs blinding her, Savvy fought to breathe in the crush.

A young woman who couldn’t be more than sixteen hugged her neck, tears running down her face. “Thank you, Ms. Jones. Thank you,” she said in heavily accented English. She released her to let someone else through.

Savvy panned the crowd, frantically searching for the tall Texas bodyguard. It didn’t take long to spot him, but not until her gaze met his chocolate-brown stare did her heart slow.

Dawson towered over the women, pushing his way back through the mob to get to her. When he reached her side, he slid a hand around her shoulders, tucking her beneath his arm, effectively blocking access to her.

“Por favor, señor, we wish to thank the señorita for taking care of Tomas Rodriguez for good.”

Dawson shook his head and said in a voice loud enough to be heard over the crowd, “Tomas Rodriguez’s killer has not yet been identified.” With one arm around Savvy and the other clearing a path, he pushed his way through the crowd toward the parking lot.

Before they’d moved more than a dozen feet from the hospital entrance, the shaggy-haired man with all the questions shoved his pocket camera in her face and a flash blinded her. “Ms. Jones—if that’s really your name—where did you live before Laredo? Does the name Jameson mean anything to you?”

Savvy held up her hands to block more of the blinding flashes. “I don’t know anyone by that name. And I don’t know the answers to any of your questions. Please, leave me alone.”