only occupant. She was sitting up, staring at muted cartoons on the TV. There was a white strip of keri tape over her temple, nothing more. She wasn’t moving.
When she saw him, she said, “Do you use meters?”
“What? Meters? Well, no, I think in feet and inches, like most Americans. Why meters?”
“It popped into my head a little while ago. I realized I know all about meters and centimeters, how to convert back and forth. I don’t sound like I’m from Europe, do I?”
“Nope, you’re American to the bone. I’d say Washington, Maryland, around there.”
“Maybe I’m a math teacher and I teach the metric system.”
“Could be. Sounds to me like you’re nearly ready to remember everything, but don’t push it, okay? Just relax. How’s your head feel?”
“Hurts, but I can handle it.”
Odd, but it seemed to him she could handle about anything. He pulled a small black plastic kit from his jacket pocket, opened it, and spread out the paraphernalia on the bedside table. She watched him a moment, said, “You’re going to take my fingerprints?”
“Yes, that’s right. This is my portable kit since you’re not up to going to the station to scan them in. It could be you had a job that required fingerprints.”
“Could I be in NCIC?” The instant the words were out of her mouth, she froze.
“NCIC—you know what that means?”
He could tell she was trying really hard, and he raised his hand. “No, let it go. I’m sending your fingerprints electronically to IAFIS. That’s the Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System. If you’re one of the forty million folks in the civil fingerprint file, we should hear back within twenty-four hours.”
“I forgot your name.”
“Dixon Noble. I’m the sheriff of Maestro.”
“Maestro. What a strange name, charming, but strange.”
“I prefer it to Tulip, Montana.”
She smiled, but it wasn’t a simple smile, there were remnants of pain in her eyes. He knew that look when he saw it, knew it to his bones. And he could practically feel her controlling her sense of panic. “
You want some aspirin?”
“No, it isn’t bad. I heard the nurses talking about me earlier. They wondered what the doctors were going to do with me.”
“Not a problem,” Dix said. “I’m taking you home with me.”
THE HOSPITAL INSISTED she ride in a wheelchair to the front door. Once she was seat-belted inside the Range Rover, she turned to watch the sheriff as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway. Then she stared out the window to watch the bright morning sun glisten off the snow. “It’s beautiful, and it feels familiar down to my bones, so I guess I’m not from Arizona.”
“Now that’s interesting. Some deep part of you feels at one with this atrocious weather.”
“Kind of sad, actually.”
“My boys looked in the woods where I found you, but there was nothing there. More snow’s forecasted for this afternoon, but it’s beginning to look like the weather guys are wrong again. Emory’s coming to the house later to take some photos. We’ll show them all over the area. Someone had to have seen you, someone will remember you.”
“I don’t live around here, I’m pretty sure of that, so that means I had to have a room somewhere. I like your Range Rover,” she said, surprising him. “They’re really good off-road, but I think they make me nauseous when I’m a passenger and there are too many bumps.”
“What do you own?”
“A BMW—oh, nice how you did that—but I’m not sure, sorry. BMW popped into my mind, so maybe. I sure hope you find my car, whatever it is, soon. You can find out who I am in about two seconds flat.”
“How?”
“From the VIN, not to mention the license plate.”
“Yes, that’s right,” he said. “I’ve got people out looking for your car. If the person who struck you tried to hide it, he’s in luck. With all this snow it could be well camouflaged.”
She cleared her throat. “Seems like someone tried to obliterate me, and sort of has.”
“You’ll be okay,” he said matter-of-factly. “But I am wondering how you got to my house.”
“Maybe the woods were just handy?” She didn’t sound upset, and that was surely strange for a civilian. She sounded curious, not at all scared, like she had a problem to solve.
“Or maybe you managed to walk into my woods.”
“Who knows?” She laughed, actually laughed. “Here I am as useless as a lifeguard who can’t swim. What could I have been doing here to make someone go to all this trouble?”
“I can see your eyes nearly crossing. Stop straining. Relax. Stuff is coming back really fast now. It won’t be much longer. Do you think your Beemer is one of those SUVs?”
“It’s not an SUV, it’s an SAV. It’s not a pedestrian utility vehicle, it’s an activity vehicle.” She started laughing again. “Oh goodness, can you believe that?”
“Dr. Crocker told me, probably told you, too, that bits and pieces of things may float back to you, but some big chunks might stay out of sight for a while. Like I said, stop straining. When we find your wuss SAV, maybe you’ll recognize it.”
“Your wife must be a very tolerant woman.”
“She was.”
She didn’t say anything to that. Her head was pounding again. To her surprise, before she could say anything, the sheriff handed her a thermos. “You’re hurting. Take one of those pain pills they gave you.”
She nodded, took two, drank them down with coffee, and leaned her head back against the seat. She heard the loud barking as soon as she opened the car door.
“That’s Brewster. He’s quite a watchdog. Be careful he doesn’t pee on you.”
Brewster didn’t pee on her, but within three minutes of her lying on the sofa, he was cuddled next to her, licking her chin. The sheriff pulled two handmade afghans over her. She wanted to sleep on this wonderful soft sofa for at least a day.
She awoke when she heard the sheriff saying, “Keep it down, boys. We have a guest.”
“The lady you found last night, Dad?”
“Yeah, she’s going to be okay, but there are things she can’t remember yet, including who she is.”
Dix saw she was awake and looking toward the doorway at the three of them. He introduced the boys to her again.
“I made you the hot tea,” Rob said.
“Yes, I remember. Thank you.”
Dix said, “I don’t know what to call you.”
“Hmm. How about Madonna?”
Rob said, “You don’t have a space between your front teeth.”
She brushed her tongue over her teeth. “Do you think you could pretend I did? Pretend I’m a blonde?”
Rob said, “Madonna changes her hair color all the time, that’s no problem.”
Rafer said, “Mom liked Madonna, said she was so loaded with imagination she’d just keep reinventing herself until she was eighty, maybe end up buying the State of Florida.”
Unlike his brother, Rafe had light brown hair, and his father’s dark eyes, an odd combination that would slay girls when he was a bit older. Both he and his brother were skinny as rails right now, but when they reached their full size, they’d be big men, like their father. And their mother?
“Okay,” Dix said, “Madonna it is. Rob, you want to make Madonna some more hot tea, maybe a couple slices of toast with butter and jam?”
Rob looked at the woman lying on the couch. She looked really beat. “Sure, Dad.”
There was a knock on the front door.
Rafer took off to answer it, Brewster barking madly at his heels.
It was Emory Cox, Dix’s chief deputy. “I’m here to get the photo, Sheriff. Hi, ma’am.”
Dix introduced him. “Call her Madonna for the moment, Emory.” Emory took six Polaroid shots of Madonna,
