Monday, August 24, 1987

1:43 p.m.

I awakened to the smell of antiseptic and too-bright lights.  I tried to speak, but all I could manage was a soft groan.

"Take it easy," someone responded.  "Don't try to move."

Those instructions were easy enough to follow; my limbs felt as if they were encased in tar.  "What happened to me?"  I blinked a few times to clear my vision, but it didn't seem to do any good.  I still saw two of everything.

"The doctor will be with you shortly.  This is the emergency room at Galilee General Hospital, Mrs. King."

"Head hurts," I mumbled.  "But I'm not sure . . ."

"Some short-term memory loss is not unusual, under the circumstances.  The doctor will explain it all to you as soon as the rest of your test results are in.  Now," the soothing voice continued, "your husband is just outside.  I'll send him in, and you two can wait together."

My husband?  I felt a smile tugging at my lips.  If I'd known all it would take was a knock on the head to bring him, I might have tried it much sooner. 

The curtain parted and a shadowy form entered.  "Lee?" I whispered, my voice catching in my throat.  "Is that you?"

A gentle hand closed around mine.  "No, Amanda.  It's me, Joe."

"Joe?"  I squinted until his face came into focus.  "How . . . why . . ."

"The hospital called me.  Your emergency card listed me as a contact."

"It must be the one I keep for the boys."  I tried to mask my disappointment.  "Sorry to drag you in here like this."

"Are you kidding?  I was happy to come.  You're still family, sweetheart.  Nothing can change that."  Leaning over, he placed a tender kiss on my forehead and whispered in my ear, "And I'll be here for you whenever you need me."

"Thanks, Joe, but I really am fine."  I smiled as I realized how incongruous that sounded, coming from a cubicle in the emergency room.  "Or, at least, I will be."

He rolled his eyes.  "You're as stubborn as ever, Amanda King.  Why don't we let the doctors make sure of that, okay?"

"I don't have time.  I've got to call my supervisor and give him my situation report . . ."

I tried to sit up, but his strong hands held my shoulders, forcing me back down on the cot.  "Take it easy, Amanda.  You need to worry about yourself right now, not your job.  Besides, the other agent—the blonde woman—she's already taken care of that."

"Francine?  She's all right, then?"

Joe laughed.  "Well, if the way she has the staff around here jumping through hoops is any indication, I'd say she's more than all right."

I grinned.  "My partner believes in keeping people on their toes.  I really should—"

The curtains parted, and a tall man in a white coat entered the cubicle.  He acknowledged Joe with a nod then turned to me.  "Mr. and Mrs. King, the nurse told me you were both in here.  Good.  It will save me the trouble of going over everything twice."

I started to explain that Joe was my ex-husband, not my current one, but the doctor didn't give me the chance.  "I have the results of your tests," he informed me, frowning as he flipped through some papers.  "You were very lucky, Mrs. King.  You have a concussion, but it's not too serious.  If you take care of yourself properly, that is."

"A concussion?"

"Yes.  You may experience headache and some blurred vision for a few days, but I fully expect that to clear up with time and rest.  Now, regarding the pregnancy . . ."  He consulted his chart again.  "Everything looks fine there, too."

"The baby's okay?" I asked, ignoring the stunned look on Joe's face.

The doctor smiled faintly.  "Babies are much tougher than people think, Mrs. King.  Now, the ultrasound puts you at nine weeks.  Does that sound right to you?"

Memories of that June night flooded my mind.  "Yes," I whispered, "it does."

He went on to say that because of the pregnancy, he didn't want to prescribe anything too strong for my headache, but I could barely take it in.  What did it matter if my head felt as if it was going to explode?  My baby—Lee's baby—was going to be just fine.  I'd never realized until this moment how badly I wanted this child.

As the doctor departed, I stole a glance at Joe.  He stood motionless by the bed, his forehead scrunched into a frown.  I knew that look; he was upset.  "Joe, I—"

He shook his head and squeezed my arm.  "Amanda," he gasped, bewilderment rippling through the word.  "You're . . . pregnant?"

I nodded, wincing as my throbbing head reminded me I shouldn't do that.  "It's not what you think, Joe.  Lee and I, we're . . . well, we're married." 

There, I'd finally said it. I looked at Joe, willing him to understand.  His face registered the astonishment I'd expected, but also something else, some unsettling emotion I couldn't name.  I probably shouldn't have broken the news so abruptly.

He stiffened as he looked down at me.  "When?" 

"In February," I told him, relieved to finally be able to share my news with someone. 

"When you were shot . . ."  His mouth fell open. 

"Yes.  We were on our honeymoon.  I wanted to tell you, Joe," I went on when he didn't respond.  "I meant to tell you, actually, that day we met for lunch . . . at the Isle of Capri restaurant, remember?  But . . ."

"But I told you my news about Carrie instead."

"Our timing always was a bit off, wasn't it?"  I grinned half-heartedly.  "I'm sorry about just dropping it on you like this, here in the emergency room, but I didn't want you to think—"

"Do the boys know?"

I shook my head.  "Mother knows . . . well, about the baby, not the marriage.  I've been putting off telling her . . . telling them . . . because . . . because at heart I'm just a coward, I guess.  I'm going to have to confess everything—the job, the secret marriage, this life I've chosen.  It's a little overwhelming, especially since I have no idea where my husband is at the moment."  I exhaled loudly.  "It appears I'd rather let Mother think Lee and I were shacking up than come clean about all the lies.  That certainly says something, doesn't it?"

But Joe wasn't listening to me.  "Amanda."  He tightened his grip on my arm.  "I think I may have made a terrible mistake."

"A mistake . . . with Carrie?"  I couldn't follow his reasoning.  Surely he wasn't regretting his engagement . . . was he? 

"Oh, Joe," I said, in a rush, "I hope not.  She really is a wonderful person, so warm and caring.  "I'm really happy you found her, and I hope you can feel the same way for—"

"Amanda, I'm not talking about Carrie."  His frown deepened.  "It's something else.  I made a bad decision, but, in my defense, I really thought I was doing what was best for you and for the boys . . ."  He paced the length of my bed, his hands thrust deeply into his pockets.  "But I didn't understand at all, I can see that now.  I've been a first class fool.  I had no right to—"

"Stop, Joe."  His convoluted diatribe was making me dizzy.  "Whatever it is you're trying to say, please, just say it."

His face clouded over.  Sucking in a breath, he nodded.  "Amanda, Lee came to see me a few months ago, and he . . . well, he gave me a letter for you."

"He did what?"  I couldn't grasp what Joe was telling me. 

Joe looked away.  "We argued.  About you, the boys . . . he was behaving so strangely.  What was I supposed to think?  A man with his reputation . . ."

My temper flared.  "What is that supposed to mean?"

Joe studied the floor.  "I ran into a friend of his at a fundraiser for the EAO, a woman by the name of Celeste Van Kreswynkle.  She told me quite a few stories about Lee, and I . . . well, I just didn't want you to be subjected to anymore garbage about why he felt compelled to leave, so I—"

"Patterson, Hendrichs, secure this area.  And find Desmond immediately." 

Billy's voice boomed as my section chief arrived in force, the full weight of his official presence filling the emergency room.  Two agents flanked him, and two more stationed themselves outside the curtained-off area.  My chief's deeply furrowed brow sparked a sudden memory.

"I'm fine, sir," I said, as the details of the accident flashed into my mind.  "But I'm afraid I can't say the same for the Agency's sedan."

"We're dealing with that now."  He jerked his head at Joe.  "Mr. King, if you could step outside, I need to debrief my agent."

I wondered if my mind was playing tricks on me.  Agency business or not, Billy's manner wasn't usually so gruff.  Joe agreed reluctantly, his eyes still unable to meet mine.  "If you don't mind, I'll stick around in the waiting area for a while.  I need to finish my conversation with Amanda." 

"Fine."  Billy motioned for someone to escort Joe from the room.  "I believe she'll have something important to discuss with you, too."  Turning to me, Billy gripped the bedrail.  "The doctor tells me you're going to be fine.  I'm glad, Amanda.  Do you remember what happened?"

"It was all so sudden . . . I don't know . . ."  My boss' demeanor unsettled me, not to mention I was still reeling from the information Joe had let slip.  "One minute I was getting out of the car, the next minute it blew . . ."

"There was an explosive device attached to the underbody, beneath the front seat.  Most likely triggered by some sort of timer or remote control, perhaps even a weight sensitive device.  We'll know more when our boys finish going over the scene, but . . ."  He paused to take a deep breath.  "The preliminary evidence gives us more than enough information to act."

I looked at him with an effort; all this drama was making my head pound.  "You know who's behind this?"

"Yes.  I'm sorry to tell you this, Amanda, but I'm afraid you were the target."

"I don't understand, sir.  I'm not working on anything that might provoke a deadly response."

Billy lowered himself into the bedside chair, fixing his gaze on anything but my face.  "I'm afraid I can't give you any more information here, in a non-secure environment.  What I can do is assure you that we'll use every resource at the Agency's disposal to protect you and your family."

I struggled to breathe.  "My family?  Are they—"

"Don't worry, they're fine.  We've had them under twenty-four hour surveillance ever since . . ."

Though my head was splitting, I managed to achieve a sitting position.  "This has something to do with Lee, doesn't it?"

To his credit, Billy only hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering, "Yes, it does.  We'll discuss this in more detail at the Agency."

"The Agency?"  I frowned.  "I don't understand, sir."

"We've got to get you to a secure facility.  There's no time to wait for a safe house, so I've arranged for an ambulance to take you to the Agency clinic.  We'll be bringing your family in, as well.  I'm sorry, Amanda.  There's no other choice."

"I . . . understand."  The lights were suddenly too harsh, and I rubbed my eyes.  They were bringing in Mother and the boys . . .

Of all the coming clean scenarios I'd imagined, this one had never once crossed my mind.  So much for waiting for the perfect time.  Fate, it seemed, had stepped in and taken the decision from my hands. 

At the steady pressure on my arm, I looked up into Billy's concerned eyes.  "I'm sorry," he said again.  "I wish there was another way."

"I need to talk to Joe," I murmured.

Billy consulted his watch.  "I can give you five minutes, no more."

I nodded.  Five minutes would be more than enough time to hear what Joe had to say.  It appeared that everyone's secrets were about to reveal themselves today . . . in the worst possible way.