Chapter 2

For three days, the only people Sam saw, when he was awake and not enveloped in a morphine-induced fog, were doctors and nurses. He was supposed to be getting better, but he had trouble moving, especially his legs. When the doctor told him that his spinal cord had been bruised in the impact and that it would take time for it to heal, he assured Sam that he would walk again. It might just take a lot of physical therapy.

At the moment, it was the mental part of him that he worried about more. Bits and pieces of that tragic night came back, and every time he remembered another part, he suffered a new round of sadness over losing Elsa. If he'd been in his right mind, he never would have run a red light, unless he was in pursuit of someone, and even then, he wouldn't have done it so carelessly or with Elsa in the car. What was wrong with him? If only Mike and Fi would come visit, he was certain that they could help him fill in some blanks. At the very least, their company might help put him on the road to recovery. But no one seemed to know where the two were. He tried calling Mike's phone, and then Fi's, but neither of them answered. Maybe what he'd done so disgusted them that they couldn't stand to be around him.

For the first time since he arrived in Miami, Sam felt the heavy burden of loneliness pressing in on him. He needed contact with someone he knew and loved, and maybe they could help him sort through this. He tried Maddie's number and got her voice mail, so he left a short message telling her where he was and asking her to visit. From someplace back in the recesses of his mind Sam remembered that Jesse was on a job. Getting a hold of him would be a long-shot.

"Hello," Jesse said when he answered his phone.

In relief Sam breathed, "Jesse, thank God I finally got a real person. I thought you were out of the country."

"Yeah, that job finished up and I just came back yesterday." He paused, and his voice took on a concerned tone. "Sam, are you okay?"

"Uh, not really. I'm at Mercy. I've been here for, what, a week, I think?" He shook his head. "I don't know. I can't remember half of what happened the last time we were all together, and I can't get a hold of Mike or Fi to see what they know." He stopped himself before panic overtook him. His breathing slowed and he added, "Jesse, Elsa's dead and Mike and Fi... I don't know if they're upset with me and that's why they haven't been around..."

"Calm down, Sam." Jesse's voice was even and soothing. "I know... My boss told me when I got back to town. It was all over the news, man."

"What? What happened?"

"You were driving and got broadsided when you went through a red light. A witness said he didn't think you were driving drunk. You just kinda slumped over the wheel and went into the intersection. Elsa was killed and you barely escaped with your life." He let out a breath. "I can't get a hold of Michael and Fiona either, so don't think they're ignoring you. Everywhere I could think of, I looked: the loft, Maddie's, even some of our safe houses. Maddie hasn't seen them either, and she's worried sick. It's like they just went off the grid."

"Why?" Sam asked as an icy fear gripped him. "You don't think they did something... oh, no, no, Jesse, they'd never..."

"You think they did something to hurt you?" By the tone of Jesse's voice, Sam knew he wouldn't believe that their friends were behind everything. The idea was insane, but when you've been in the business as long as Sam, sometimes your mind goes places you don't want it to go.

Sam continued. "Of course not them, but somebody sure did. My second mojito tasted odd, so I never finished it."

"I remember that," Jesse said. "I thought it was weird that you let it just sit there."

"Now you know why. But if someone put something in it to disorient me, that could explain how I wound up where I did," Sam speculated.

"That's possible. Where'd you say you are now?"

"Mercy Hospital."

Jesse let out a breath, paused, and spoke with a tone of urgency. "Okay, I'll be there in a little while."

"Thanks, Jesse." After he got off the phone, Sam fell asleep. It was the first good rest he'd had since he came out of his drugged state. When he heard Jesse softly call his name awhile later, he awoke and gave him a big smile. "You don't know how glad I am to see somebody I know!" He restrained himself from sitting up and reaching for Jesse. He didn't want his friend to think he was that needy, even if he wished for some kind of physical contact from someone besides a doctor or nurse.

"Looks like they're taking good care of you in here." Jesse glanced around at the equipment and things hanging around Sam's bed. "You've really been out of it all this time, and you don't remember anything?"

Sam gave him an injured look. "It's not like I'm trying to hide the truth, Jesse. I just don't know. I can remember everything up to shortly after that second mojito that I didn't finish, and then everything is either fuzzy or a blank until I woke up here."

Looking deep in thought, Jesse finally spoke. "I'm going to Carlito's and see if I can talk to the people who were working that night. Maybe somebody spiked your drink with something and thought they were getting Mike's. I don't know. There's not a lot to work with right now."

"I realize that. I keep trying to grab onto bits and pieces that come back. So far, not much luck." Sam shifted and a stab of pain assaulted him. By now they'd given him control of the morphine, but he held off. He needed his mind to be clear. "I really wish I could get out of here, but right now I have no idea where I'd go. With Elsa dead, Mike and Fi MIA, and Maddie won't return my calls..." A heavy sigh escaped him. "I'm basically homeless."

"I'd invite you to stay with me, but I've just got one bedroom, and the couch isn't fit for anybody to sleep on. Especially not you in your condition." Jesse shrugged. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault, Jesse." Sam turned his head toward the window and looked out at the bright blue sky with white puffy clouds floating past. The beautiful scene taunted him. He wished he could go outside, but the idea was as as plausible as a dream. For the time being, he was imprisoned by the hospital bed. "I'll figure out something eventually when they release me."

"Yeah." By the way he sighed, Sam knew that Jesse felt uncomfortable for having to turn him away. "I'll, uh, get to work on unraveling this mystery, and maybe I can find Mike and Fi. You concentrate on getting back on your feet."

"I will. Thanks, Jesse." Sam turned back to him and tried to keep his voice free of the depression that threatened to overtake him. He missed his friends and he missed Elsa even more. "I wish... never mind." I wish I could take back whatever I did that caused me to do something so stupid. If I was the reason for Mike and Fi disappearing, whatever brought that about, I'd take it back too. I want everything to go back to the way it was!

After Jesse was gone, Sam picked up his phone and tried Maddie again. Her perky voice said, "It's Madeline, leave a message."

He didn't know what else he could say that he hadn't already said. "Maddie, it's Sam. Please call me. If you're mad at me, tell me why, because I sure as hell have no idea. I've lost some of my memory, and I'm stuck in this bed and can't get around right now. I need..." He choked back the emotion. "I need some family right now and I've got nobody." That was probably the wrong thing to say. "I'm sorry, Maddie. If you don't want me to call anymore, just let me know. Thanks. Bye."

That short one-sided conversation took a lot out of him. Sam lay his head back on the pillow and worked up the courage to call the next number. He'd been holding off until he had answers or at least a memory of what happened, but it still hadn't come back.

"Hello, this is Evan."

"Evan. It's... it's Sam." It took everything in him to keep his composure. "Uh, I don't know what to say, son..."

"I'm not your son." Raw anger oozed out of every syllable as Evan spoke. "You're the guy who killed my mom, and I never wanna hear your voice or see you again."

Sam couldn't blame Evan for hurting, and knowing he was responsible stuck him like a knife. Sam pleaded, "Ev, please, just do one thing for me?"

Evan interrupted him. "Your stuff is packed up and ready to be shipped out. I was just gonna toss it all, but my mom would have been ticked at me if I did. So where do you want it?"

"I don't know." Sam swallowed. "I'm still in the hospital, and I've got nowhere to go after I get out. I suppose you could put it in my storage locker."

Evan let out a breath. Then, to Sam's surprise, he showed him some mercy as his tone softened a bit and he said, "I'll need the key."

Sam replied, trying not to sound too eager to see him. "I've got it on my keyring. You'll have to come here to the hospital to get it."

A long silence followed. "Okay, fine. I'll come and get the key and move your crap to your storage place. After that, I don't want to have anything to do with you."

"I understand. Under the circumstances, I wouldn't want anything to do with me either." Sam thought it was true enough even if it did sound like he was fishing for sympathy.

"Don't try to get me to sympathize. It won't work." Evan grumbled and cut the connection.

In less than a half hour Evan arrived to pick up the key. He found it in Sam's things in the closet, took the entire ring and mumbled something about returning them when he was done. Sam didn't even get a chance to say anything to him. He felt tired again but he vowed to stay awake until Evan returned. He wanted to know what Elsa's son knew about the incident. Maybe it would help him remember.

To Sam's disappointment, Evan volunteered only what he'd heard from the police and the news. No one had the missing pieces for him. Evan wanted to get out as fast as possible, so Sam nodded his thanks and the younger man turned on his heel and made a break for the door.

"Evan, wait."

For some reason, Evan stopped. He turned angry eyes on Sam. "What do you want?"

"What was the funeral like? Did you have it yet?"

"I wasn't going to wait for Mom's murderer to get healthy." Evan's stare could have burned a hole right through Sam. The look on his face turned thoughtful as he added in a softer tone, "It was nice, lots of people came and gave their respects and said they would miss her." Evan's voice cracked and he turned away and walked out the door.

Sam's voice came out hoarse and soft as he said, "I miss her, Ev." But Evan never heard him, and if he had, he might have busted him in the chops.

It would have been better if I died in that crash. But would anyone say nice things about me or miss me? He closed his eyes. A nagging sharp pain ran up his spine so Sam pressed the morphine button, and he concluded that no, no one cared except maybe Jesse. He thought of the cot that he kept in his storage locker for desperate times. If he ever made it out of the hospital, Sam suspected he would be sleeping there for awhile. Alone. It wasn't a very encouraging scenario.