“I will, but I need to talk to Detective Paterno.”
“In the morning.”
“Yes,” she said, suddenly weary, exhaustion seeming to seep into her bones. The pain in her jaw was now a dull ache, but she was drained. “I’ll call in the morning.”
“Does Nick know about this?” Alex asked and Marla tensed, felt a twinge of guilt, as if she’d betrayed her husband.
“Yes.”
“It figures.”
“There’s no reason to hide it.”
“No, no, of course not,” he said, but his smile was s
trained and he fiddled with the keys in his pocket. Her mind was starting to get fuzzy again, probably from the pain medication and she was tired . . . so damned tired. “Can we go home now?”
“Just let me give you a prescription,” Dr. Robertson said as he pulled out a small note pad and started writing on it. He tore the top sheet off and handed the slip to Alex. “This’ll help with the pain, but it might make you a little tired.” He scribbled a note to himself and stuck it in a thick manila file.
Her medical file. All the information on her she’d ever want to know. A big part of the puzzle of who she was. “Can I see that?” she asked.
“What?” Robertson asked.
“The file.”
“Nothing in it but medical information.” The doctor’s expression was kind enough, but there was something else behind the smooth exterior . . . it was almost as if he was patronizing her. Oh, God, she needed to sleep.
“About me,” she said, reaching forward. “It’s mine, right?”
“Don’t you think you’ve been through enough tonight?” Alex cut in and waved the doctor to put the records away.
“But I want to know—”
“Marla, another time, okay?” Alex’s voice had a tone that immediately put her back up. “It’s late. You need to go home and rest. You said so yourself.”
“I know what I need,” she said, pushing herself off the examination table, “and that’s to learn more about myself. About you. About our family. It’s starting to happen, Alex. I’m really starting to remember and I’ll do anything, anything to help my memory along.”
“I understand—”
“Do you?” she tossed back, then glared at the doctor. “Do you?”
“Hell, Marla, stop it. Phil came down here in the middle of the night as a favor to you because you wouldn’t go to the hospital. Now, he has a family to go home to and so do we.”
Robertson clicked his pen and stuffed it into his pocket. “It’s all right,” he said, but didn’t hand over the file. “So tell me what you do remember,” he suggested, folding his arms over his chest, as well as Marla’s medical records. There was no way she’d get to see her damned files tonight.
“Other than the accident and James’s birth I only remember little things. Riding a horse, wearing a party dress, talking with Alex in the foyer of the house, nothing really very solid . . . just glimpses. I think seeing my records could jog other memories.”
“You’re probably right,” he said with a change of attitude. “Why don’t you come back to the clinic in a few days and if you want, I’ll show you every scrap of information we’ve got on you?”
By that time it will be tampered with. Sanitized. Changed.
“I will,” she promised and told herself that she wasn’t involved in some great conspiracy. All the records would be intact. She’d just seen too many movies, that was all. She walked to the sink, found a paper cup and rinsed her mouth again.
“Good. By the time you call, who knows? Maybe your memory will have returned.” He was so calm—nearly dead, it seemed. Because it wasn’t his life, his memory he was discussing. Robertson could afford to be patient while Marla felt her life slipping by, like grains of sand sifting through her open fingers, and she couldn’t clench her fist to stop it. She took a final swallow of water and worked at stretching the muscles of her face. Her tongue felt odd and oversized, her teeth still acting as if they were laced together, and after speaking with only her lips for over two weeks, she had to force her tongue, teeth and jaw to work together.
Alex helped her into her coat and Phil snapped off the lights to the clinic. Together, with Alex’s arm around her shoulders, they walked across the sky bridge to the parking lot where Alex ushered Marla to the Jaguar. “We’ll have you over for drinks,” he promised Phil as he held the door open for her. “When Marla’s more herself.”
She couldn’t help bristling at the insinuation, but bit back a hot comment that rose quickly to her lips as Alex settled behind the wheel. There was something about him that brought out a bitchy side of her and she was spoiling for a fight. With him. Though she didn’t really understand why.