Memories of Megan Page 13

  “Yes.” She thought of Cole and his recent accident. “Why would you ask about plastic surgeons?”

  “If Hughes had survived the explosion and he’d been hurt, he might have needed it.”

  Megan swung a startled gaze to the detective.

  “Is there someone here who recently had plastic surgery? Someone new to the center?”

  Megan nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. “Cole Hunter. The man you met yesterday.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  “He just came to work for CIRP. In fact, Dr. Jones, the head of the department, said they’d hired him to work with Tom.”

  “So he knows the details of your husband’s work?”

  Megan traced a finger over the coffee cup rim. “No. He claims to have amnesia. He doesn’t remember anything about his life as Cole Hunter.” She hesitated, not sure how much to reveal. Then again she had to know the truth, and this detective might be able to help her find it.

  “What if he doesn’t remember because he’s really not Cole Hunter?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You don’t think he is, do you, Ms. Wells?”

  “I don’t know. He’s…he’s not sure. He…he thought he might be Tom.”

  “Your husband? Why does he think that?”

  “He had a car accident the same day that Tom turned up missing. He was supposedly on his way here and a truck ran into him.”

  “And he’s recently had plastic surgery?”

  “Yes. At the facility on Nighthawk Island.”

  “Do you think he’s your husband, ma’am?”

  Megan clenched the cup in her hands. “I…I don’t know what to believe.”

  Detective Black exhaled. “Well, if he was your husband, I don’t understand what reason the center would have in bringing him back here as another man.”

  “I wondered the same thing.” She saw the suspicions in his eyes, and her heart pounded harder. “You don’t think he could be Arnold Hughes, do you?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “It makes more sense than keeping Tom alive, giving him a new face and telling him he’s someone else.”

  “But…but if Cole is Hughes, why would Hughes think he’s Tom?” Megan hugged her arms around her waist. He couldn’t be Arnold Hughes, not the man who had tried to kill that woman a few months back. Not the man who might have been responsible for Tom’s death.

  A sick feeling stole over her. She had allowed him to kiss her, had let him hold and touch her.

  Wouldn’t she have sensed it if he was inherently evil? If he was trying to trap her into giving out information? Or was she so needy that she’d fall into any man’s arms who claimed to want her?

  Adam rolled his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  “And why would the center tell him he’s a man named Cole Hunter?”

  “Maybe the amnesia is an act. Maybe he’s just cozying up to you to find out if you knew why Tom was meeting my partner.”

  The doorbell rang and Megan jumped, bumping into the counter as she sat her coffee cup down. “I guess I’d better get that.” The detective followed her to the door. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Cole. Can I come in, Megan?”

  Megan’s gaze flew to the detective’s. What if Detective Black was right? What if Cole Hunter was Arnold Hughes?

  COLE MASSAGED HIS UPPER THIGH to alleviate the dull ache as he waited on Megan to answer. He saw the unmarked police car and realized that Detective Black must be inside.

  Good, at least Megan was safe.

  His head was still reeling from visiting the cemetery and seeing the tombstone with the name Cole Hunter on it.

  On the flight back, he had considered Chadburn’s suggestion of hypnosis, but if the people at CIRP had lied to him, then how could he trust them not to mess up his mind even more if he relinquished control during hypnosis? They could brainwash him into thinking anything.

  The door opened and Megan stared at him, her big blue eyes wide with fright. His heart vaulted to a stop.

  “What’s wrong? Did something else happen?”

  Megan shook her head and moved aside to let him enter. Out of the corner of her eye, he noticed Detective Black scrutinizing him. Black leaned up against the brick fireplace while Cole took the love seat.

  “What’s going on, Megan?” Cole asked. “You said nothing happened, but you look shaken.”

  The detective answered for her. “Ms. Wells was just filling me in on everything. Her husband’s death. Your arrival in Savannah at CIRP, and your amnesia.” Detective Black gestured toward Cole with a crooked thumb. “Suppose you tell me what you’re doing here, Mr. Hunter. That is, if that’s your name.”

  Cole stared at him, long and hard, then at Megan. What else had the two of them discussed? Had they discovered something about him that he didn’t know?

  Exhaling a labored breath, he steepled his hands, planting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “That’s true. I have very few memories of anything the past few months. Even before.”

  “What memories do you have?”

  “I…sometimes I faintly remember knowing Megan.”

  The detective seemed surprised by his answer. “Go on.”

  “There’s not much else to tell. I woke up in a hospital room on Nighthawk Island a few weeks ago. The doctors told me I’d been injured in a car crash on my way here. I was supposedly relocating at CIRP to work with Megan’s husband, Tom.”

  “Supposedly?”

  Anger rippled through Cole. “Listen, Detective, if you think I’m pulling something over on you, you’re wrong.” He stood and paced in front of the window, well aware Megan tracked his movements. “I wish to hell I could figure this all out. I was told I had severe scarring so the doctors did plastic surgery on my face. My larynx was crushed along with my left leg. It took me weeks just to be able to speak again, and I still have a limp. Which is obvious.”

  “I wasn’t questioning the fact that you were injured.”

  Cole stopped and met his suspicious gaze. “If you think I’m lying about the amnesia, you’re wrong. The doctors told me I transferred here from the Oakland Research Center in Tennessee. The only memories I have so far are of Megan.”

  “You think you might be her husband, Tom?”

  “Maybe.” He was surprised Megan had confided that much.

  “But if he is,” Megan asked, “who did I bury?”

  “The only way we can know that for sure is to exhume your husband’s body, Ms. Wells.”

  “They…they said it was mangled beyond recognition.”

  The detective gave her a sympathetic look. “You’d be surprised at the sophisticated technology available to us. Don’t worry, Ms. Wells. We’ll find out who the man is.”

  “You think he might be Hughes?” Cole asked.

  Detective Black shrugged. “Actually my sources suggest Hughes is still alive. I’m wondering though if the body Ms. Wells buried belonged to my partner Clayton Fox.”

  Megan wrung her hands together. “But why would someone do all this?”

  “If the center was involved in a cover-up, and they killed Tom and my partner, and Tom’s body was washed out to sea, they might have made you think my partner’s body was your husband’s just to appease you. To keep you from looking further.”

  “So if the body belongs to your partner, I might be Tom Wells,” Cole said.

  Detective Black raised his gaze to Cole. “It’s possible.”

  Cole was tempted to share the information he’d learned at Oakland today about Cole Hunter with them, but he read the silent implications in the detective’s eyes and held his tongue. Detective Black thought he might be the elusive Arnold Hughes.

  And Black had put the same fear in Megan’s eyes.

  Would he know it if he was a killer?

  “How exactly did Hughes die?” he asked, unable to help himself.

  Black studied him as he spoke. “One of the doctors who worked at the center was my sister, Denise Harley. She was worki
ng on a classified project to help improve cognitive growth in children. Several foreign governments were interested in the research, but Santenelli and Hughes agreed to sell it to the Germans before the FDA approval came through. When my sister found out, they tried to kill her. Santenelli died during the arrest, but Hughes tried to flee on a boat. The boat exploded several thousand feet away from the dock.”

  Cole squinted, a headache suddenly piercing behind his eyes. Images bombarded him.

  Fire consumed the boat, licking the sky. Helicopters soared above. Men in uniforms dropped from above. Feet pounded on the wooden dock. Gunfire exploded, pelting the fiberglass hull. Bullets pinged and ricocheted. A scream tore through the air.

  Cole jerked his head up.

  What the hell had just happened?

  Had he just had a memory of the scene Black was describing?

  But how was that possible if he was Tom Wells? Had Wells been at the scene?

  If not, then what the hell had he just seen in his mind?

  MEGAN WATCHED COLE’S reaction, disturbed by the implication that he might be Hughes. The telephone trilled, slicing into the already thick tension. Megan read the hospital number on the caller ID and hurried to answer it.

  “Meg, this is April. Listen, Daryl Boyd is acting out again. He insists on seeing you.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “No, but he’s really out of control. I know you were taking the day off, but—”

  “I’ll come over in a bit. Just try to calm him down.”

  “I will. And thanks. I don’t know why he’s so taken with you, but he is.”

  Megan sighed. Sometimes patients connected with one nurse or doctor and refused to respond or cooperate with another. There was no rhyme nor reason, just something embedded in their own psyches. When she hung up the phone, both the detective and Cole were watching her.

  “An emergency?” Cole asked.

  “No, but a patient is asking for me. I told April I’d stop by later.”

  Detective Black stepped away from the fireplace. “Then I’ll head out. I’d like to get that court order to have your husband’s body exhumed as soon as possible, Ms. Wells.”

  Megan nodded. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  She felt Cole’s eyes on her as she left the room.

  The detective leaned against the door, lowering his voice. “You should be careful about that man, Ms. Wells. At least until we find out who he really is.”

  “I know.” Megan gripped the doorknob. “But he came to my rescue twice. The day the car caught on fire and the day of the shooting.”

  Detective Black frowned. “Did he really? It seems a little coincidental to me that he was the first one on the scene both times.”

  “Are you implying—”

  “I’m not implying anything. Yet. But I’d watch my back if I were you.” He handed her a business card. “Call me if you need me, or if you find out anything at all about Cole Hunter.”

  WHEN MEGAN RETURNED, fear once again clouded her mind. “I really need to go to the hospital.”

  “Why don’t I drive you?” Cole said.

  “That’s not necessary. I—”

  “Are you afraid of me, Megan?”

  She froze, the edge of hurt in his voice surprising her. The detective’s words echoed over in her mind. She should be afraid of Cole. But she sensed he wouldn’t hurt her. At least not physically. Her heart was another story.

  He couldn’t be that awful man Arnold Hughes, could he? There had to be some other explanation.

  “I swear I’m telling you the truth, Megan. I don’t remember my past.” He walked toward her, raised a hand and gently brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “My mind is like one big black hole. You’re the only light in that darkness right now.”

  She searched his eyes and saw sincerity. He was also afraid, she realized, afraid of the truth.

  “All right,” she said softly. “We’ll ride together.”

  Relief etched itself in the fine lines around his mouth. “Thank you for trusting me.”

  Megan set the alarm and followed him to the car. She didn’t completely trust him, she thought.

  But she had to find out the truth.

  Even if it meant staying close to Cole. Even if it killed her.

  COLE DROVE TOWARD THE CENTER, the day’s events playing over and over in his mind.

  “So, how did your trip to Tennessee go?” Megan asked.

  “Not very well. Nothing seemed familiar.”

  “I can’t imagine how frustrating that must be.”

  Cole clawed his hand through his hair. “It was strange. When I arrived, Dr. Chadburn treated me like I’d been on staff, like we were old friends. He even showed me the office he said I’d used when I worked there.”

  “Did you remember it?” Megan asked.

  “No. The new doctor had it repainted and new furniture brought in, but the location, the outside of the center, it seemed so foreign. It was like I’d never been there before.”

  “Did you feel that way at CIRP?”

  “No. That’s what’s so weird. I didn’t recognize anything at Oakland, but I did sense I’d been at CIRP before. Catcall Island, Skidaway, they all seem familiar.”

  Megan twined her fingers together in her lap. “Did you talk to any staff members at Oakland?”

  “I spoke to a few people in the hall but no one seemed to know me. Of course, I look different.” Cole shook his head. “But I did run into this janitor who was shocked when I told him my name.”

  “Why? Did he know something about you?”

  Cole hesitated, then angled his head and met her gaze. “Apparently he knew Dr. Hunter.”

  “And?’

  “And not only is my face different, but apparently the real Hunter was a lot shorter than I am.”

  Megan stared at him, her eyes crinkling at the corner. “Did he tell you where to find the real Hunter?”

  Cole nodded solemnly. “Oh, yeah. In fact I went to see him myself.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He didn’t say anything, Megan. The real Cole Hunter is dead.”

  Cole’s hands tightened around the steering wheel as Megan’s face paled.

  “Which proves you really aren’t Cole Hunter?” Megan asked in a choked voice.

  “And that the people here lied to me.” Cole imagined the different scenarios running through Megan’s mind. He wasn’t Cole so he might be Tom. Or maybe that detective’s partner although Black seemed pretty convinced that guy was dead.

  Or he might be Arnold Hughes.

  If he was Hughes, then it was possible that he had killed Black’s partner, Fox. And Megan’s husband.

  He shifted, the icy numbness of disbelief settling inside him. What if the guilt he’d felt at Wells’s funeral had come from knowing he had murdered the man?

  MEGAN’S NERVES REMAINED rattled for the remainder of the ride. She sensed Cole was equally disturbed and remembered earlier that she’d questioned his identity but that she was trying to trust him.

  At least for now.

  All the more reason for her not to get involved with him on a personal level. Not to succumb to his darkly intense charm should he try to kiss her again.

  “I want you to remember what I said earlier, Megan.” His voice sounded grave. “I won’t hurt you. No matter what we find out about my identity.”

  Even if they learned he killed Tom?

  He pulled into the parking lot at the hospital and caught her arm just before she got out. “You do believe me, don’t you?”

  Megan searched his face again, and saw only concern and worry. Either that, or she was the worst judge of character on the face of the earth. So she told him yes, then they walked side by side into the hospital.

  Megan had once felt content within the confines of the research center, safe with its security, and almost friendly with the people who worked there. Now, she found herself searching faces, wondering if someone she knew or trusted might have
shot at her yesterday.

  She hated the suspicions, the tension dogging her like some invisible demon.

  As soon as they entered the psych ward, the quiet tension exploded into fear. Chaos erupted. Nurses bustled back and forth, whispering in hushed voices, an orderly ran down the hall, and an elderly volunteer sat in a corner vinyl chair crying.

  Megan headed over to talk to her when April suddenly appeared around the corner. “Meg, oh, God, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  April clasped Megan’s hands in between her own. April’s were ice-cold.

  “Tell me what happened,” Megan said.

  “It’s Mr. Boyd, Meg,” April said in a stricken voice. “He committed suicide about a half hour ago.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What happened?” Megan asked, the numbness of shock settling over her. “Didn’t you tell him I was coming?”

  “Yes, I told him.” April blew a strand of hair from her face. “He calmed down, so I left him for a few minutes in his room to rest. Later, one of the other nurses went in to give him his meds and found him.” Her voice trembled. “It appears to be a drug overdose, but we won’t know for certain until the autopsy.”

  “Dear God.” Megan pressed a hand to her stomach. “I should have come sooner.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Cole said, “so don’t blame yourself, Megan.”

  “He’s right,” April said, hugging Megan. “No one knew he was suicidal.”

  “But his behavior had been erratic—”

  “He’s schizophrenic, Meg. Of course his behavior was erratic.”

  “Still, I should have done more.” Megan blinked back tears. “I knew he needed extra care.”

  “Megan, you can’t think like that,” April said. “We learned we’re not God the first year in nursing school. You did everything you could.” She shook Megan slightly. “You even rushed to see him on your day off.”

  “This…all this craziness has to stop.” Megan staggered backward, her control shattering. “It has to stop now.”

  “What are you talking about?” April asked. “What craziness?”