“How are you feeling?” he asked, stopping next to the desk and eyeing her with concern.
“Fine,” she said automatically, only then pausing to pay attention to her body and see if that was true. It was mostly true. She felt like a dried--out sponge, but other than that, and a slight headache, she was fine. Was there a reason she shouldn’t be? Like maybe some drugs that had been slipped to her and would explain her memory problem? That thought in mind, she asked warily, “How should I feel?”
For some reason the question made his lips quirk with wry amusement. “Well it’s different for different -people. Some wake up with a raging headache, probably from dehydration. Others just have a terrible case of dry mouth and otherwise feel better than they did before.”
“Before what?” Holly asked sharply, suspicion rife within her. She did have a slight headache and definite dry mouth.
“Before the turn,” he explained patiently.
“Before the turn?” she echoed with confusion. “Before my turn at what?”
Justin Bricker’s eyes narrowed and he was silent for a minute and then asked, “What exactly do you remember?”
“Of what?” Holly countered, a wary sensation creeping up the back of her neck. There was something about his sudden solemnity that was worrisome.
“What is the last thing you remember?” he asked instead of answering her question.
Holly briefly searched her mind for memories and came up with the same she’d had on first waking. She recalled brushing her teeth before bed, realizing she hadn’t tested her blood yet, going out to the car to look for her purse and the tester in it, and then heading back to the office when she didn’t find either in her car. She was obviously missing the memories between that and landing in a strange man’s hotel room . . . naked in his bed.
“I was headed back to the office to get my purse,” she said quietly.
His eyebrows rose and Holly suspected that meant she was missing a lot of memories, and probably important ones. She always missed the important stuff.
“Do you remember getting to the office?” he asked.
She performed a brief sweep of her memory and then shook her head before asking, “Did I get there?”
“Yes, you got to the office,” Justin assured her and then pursed his lips and shifted before adding, “We think you had papers with you when you came down to the crematorium. Is it possible you found papers you felt needed to be delivered at that hour?”
Holly considered the question and then asked, “Was there a round metal disk attached to the corner?”
He hesitated and then turned and walked to the door, opened it, crossed the hall and leaned into the opposite room. She heard him ask, “Was there a metal disk on the papers on the floor in the crematorium?”
Holly didn’t hear the answer, but he closed the door and came back, nodding. “Yes, there was.”
“Then they were papers needed to cremate someone. If I found them and they should have gone down during the day but somehow didn’t, then yes, I might have taken them down despite the hour,” she said on a sigh.
“You were in your pajamas,” he said and she raised an eyebrow at his tone of voice. He sounded bewildered. Or maybe disapproving. Or both. Before she could respond, Justin asked, “Has any of this sparked a memory? Do you remember heading for the crematorium to deliver the papers?”
Holly bit her lip and searched her memory again, but it was pretty spotty and nothing was coming.
“It was after midnight on a foggy night,” he prompted. “You probably couldn’t see two feet in front of you, but you traipsed down past the graves to the crematorium anyway . . . in pink flannel pajamas with white bunnies on them and fluffy slippers under a trench coat.”
He described what she’d worn as if her fashion choice that night had alarmed him, and Holly supposed it had been somewhat unorthodox, but she hadn’t expected to run into anyone. Apparently, she had. She didn’t recall it though, so she shook her head again, but then cleared her throat and asked, “Where exactly are they? My pajamas?”
Justin hesitated, and then rather than answer, asked, “Do you remember the crematorium? Or leaving? Or falling?”
Holly’s head came up slightly at that. She’d fallen? Thinking it might explain a lot, she asked, “Did I hit my head or something?”
“Yes.” Justin seemed relieved and she only understood why when he said, “So you do remember that?”
“No,” she admitted almost apologetically. “I just figure that must be why my head hurts and why my memory is missing pieces.”
“Ah. Yes, I see,” he said on a sigh, and then grimaced and asked, “So none of this is ringing bells for you?”
Holly shook her head again, and admitted, “I don’t even remember who you are. Your name doesn’t sound familiar, or anything.” She shrugged helplessly.