God, her head hurt. She brought her fingers to her forehead and massaged slowly. She then opened her eyes looking down at the brighly polished linoleum floor. The glare of the equally bright fluorescent lights glaring off the tiles sent more pain shooting through her skull. A bell rang, and she turned toward the sound. A couple in their late teens entered through a glass door, arms wrapped around each other and grinning like fools. Where was she? Looking around she saw the metal shelves of food and from above the shelves she could see the glass of the cold cases beyond. A convenience store. How did I get here she wondered, as another wave of pain rolled through her head. She gasped grabbing at the sides of her head. Something small, hard and plastic in her right hand slapped against her temple. She pulled the hand away and saw a bottle of Ibuprofen. How appropriate, she thought ironically to herself, considering she didn't remember picking the bottle up.
"Hey lady, you gonna buy that or what?" A gruff voice startled her out of her reverie. She turned and saw the middle-aged balding clerk, with about three days of dark growth on his three chins, behind the Plexiglas counter watching her with a mix of irritation and confusion. Slowly she approached the counter and placed the bottle on the metal ledge protruding from the window.
The clerk grabbed the bottle and checked the price. "That'll be $3.85. Cash or charge?"
"Cash." She replied, reaching down to where her purse should have been. When she didn't feel it, she glanced down then to her shoulder, seeing neither purse nor strap. Great, she thought, this is just what I need. The clerk eyed her again. Sighing, she reached into her coat pockets and came up empty. Untying the belt, she opened her coat to check her slacks. And saw the blood. Streaked down her blouse and onto her pants. The clerk saw too.
"What the hell? Lady, what happened to you?"
Fresh pain blossomed behind her eyes, and his visage blurred.
"Lady, can you hear me?"
She heard the laughter of the young couple somewhere behind her. Tears swam in her eyes.
A final stab of pain assailed her, and looking back at the clerk, she fainted.
Derek Raine swept throught the hospital sliding doors, his coat flapping from the departing breeze, hair damp from the drizzling rain. Behind him, Nick Boyle ran a hand through his own dampened hair. They approached the registration desk, where a young woman sat, talking on the phone. She raised a hand to indicate she would be with them as soon as the call finished.
"So what happened exactly?" Nick asked Derek as they stood by the desk, waitinng.
"All I know is Rachel collapsed in a convience store a few hours ago. The officer I talked to didn't go into any specific details. Just that she'd been brought here and gave them my name and number to call."
"Why did she come to Rose Creek? She working a case?"
"No. An old friend and colleague just lost a daughter to suicide. She came for the funeral and to offer him comfort."
Nick shook his head. "Man that's rough."
The nurse cleared her throat behind them. "How can I help you?"
"I am looking for a patient who was admitted earlier this evening, Rachel Corrigan."
"Derek Rayne?" A dark-haired man in his mid-thirties who had was seated in the lobby just across from them stood and approached, hand outstretched. Derek took it warily.
"Yes. And you are?"
"Detective Sal Lazlo. We spoke on the phone."
"Yes. Tell me detective, what happened to Dr. Corrigan? On the phone you said she collapsed? Have you spoken to the doctors? What was the cause?"
Lazlo turned slightly gesturing toward the lobby chairs. "Why don't we sit down?"
"This is not going to be good news." Nick said, looking to Derek, who nodded his assent before the three men moved to the lobby and sat at empty adjouning chairs.
The detective began. "One of my officers responded to a call of a woman injured at a convenience store. When he arrived, he found your colleague on the floor in front of the cash register, blood streaked down the front of her blouse. He called for an ambulance and she was brought here."
Derek's expressed became alarmed. "She was injured. How?"
Lazlo shook his head. "That's the strange thing, at least one of them, about this. She has no wounds. The hospital lab took a blood sample when she arrived to rule out poisoning or overdose. They didn't find either, but what they did find is that she has A-blood."
Derek and Nick both looked confused. Derek spoke up. "What does this have to do with what happened?"
"The blood found on her clothes is O+."
The two colleagues shared a shocked stare and then turned back to the detective. Derek again responded. "It wasn't her blood."
"Then whose was it?" Nick asked.
"We don't know." Lazlo shrugged. "And apparently neither does Dr. Corrigan. I spoke to her about twenty minutes before you arrived, and she claims to have no memory of how the blood got there, or even how she arrived at the convenience store."
"She has amnesia?" Derek asked.
"That, or something to hide." Lazlo replied.
Nick bristled and moved toward the detective. "Just what are you implying? You think Rachel killed someone? That's not possible." Derek placed a hand on the younger man's arm. They exchanged a brief look, then Nick sat back.
Lazlo gave him a sympathetic look. "I know you don't want to believe that, but how else could someone else's blood have gotten on her clothes? At the very least, she's injured someone."
Derek glanced to the registration desk, then back to Lazlo. "Has anyone come in injured with O+ blood?"
The detective shook his head. "Not here. Were canvassing all local clinics and the other city hospitals to see if anyone has shown up there."
Derek gave the man a hard stare. "I'm sure there is an explanation for what happened tonight. I know Rachel Corrigan very well and find it hard to believe she attacked and possibly killed someone without good reason and then just left the scene."
"You think the amnesia is for real?" Lazlo asked.
"Memory loss is not uncommon after traumatic events. Are you holding her for anything?"
"No. No case without a body or a complaining witness."
"So she's free to leave?"
The detective nodded. "As soon as the doctors clear her. Of course, I'll need her to stay in town until we can determine what did happen tonight."
Derek nodded back. "Of course. We are staying the Thorn Creek Inn. Rooms 26 and 27C."
The men stood and Derek and Lazlo shared another handshake. "Thank you for your cooperation Dr Rayne."
"As I said, there is an explanation for what happened tonight and we are just as anxious to discover it as you are so we can return to San Francisco."
Derek and Nick watched Lazlo exit the double glass doors. Then they returned to the desk. "Can you page the doctor on Rachel Corrigan's case?" he asked the woman.
She nodded and picked up the phone, punching the intercom button. "Dr. Forrester, please come to the ER desk. Dr. Forrester to the ER desk. She replaced the receiver. "He should be here shortly."
"Thank you."
"You think Rachel really hurt someone?" Nick asked, studying Derek's concerned face.
"I don't think so, but we're going to have to retrace all her movements since she arrived, see who she's talked to, where she's been. Someone somewhere has an answer to that question. And if we can't help Rachel remember, we are going to find them."