Secret Delivery. Delores Fossen

had moved to Willow Ridge over twenty-three years ago and set up a practice. Jack also knew when Bartolo wasn’t in a good mood. Apparently, the fiftysomething-year-old doc didn’t like being called out after hours during a storm. Jack knew how the man felt. He rarely worked late these days because of Joey, but here he was at ten thirty going a second round with Alana Davis when he was supposed to be finishing up paperwork so he could take the weekend off.

      “You said you had a sick prisoner,” Dr. Bartolo prompted. He headed in the direction of the lone jail cell at the far end of the hall.

      “She’s in my office,” Jack corrected.

      The doctor lifted a caramel-brown eyebrow, and Jack stepped to the side so the man could enter. The doc and Alana looked at each other, and Jack didn’t know which one of them was more surprised.

      Alana swallowed hard. “I know you.”

      “Of course you do.” Dr. Bartolo stared at her. “I was the attending physician when Jack brought you to the hospital last Christmas.”

      That was it. Apparently that was all the bedside manner he intended to dispense. The doctor plopped his bag onto Jack’s desk, unzipped it and pulled out a digital thermometer. After putting a plastic sleeve over the tip, he stuck it in Alana’s mouth.

      “Why is she a prisoner?” the doctor asked as the thermometer beeped once.

      “She stole a car.”

      Even though Alana didn’t say anything out loud, her eyes said plenty. Jack could almost hear her giving him a tongue-lashing. Yes, she’d stolen the car. She’d admitted that. But according to her, it’d been to escape.

      So, was it true?

      He could check with the sheriff who’d posted the stolen car report and get the name of the person who had filed the claim. That would lead him to Alana’s so-called guard. Jack hoped this wasn’t some kind of lovers’ quarrel. But he immediately rethought that. Maybe that would be the best solution for him. Find whoever was behind this so she could drop the amnesia act.

      If it was an act.

      The thermometer made a series of rapid beeps. Dr. Bartolo pulled it from her mouth and looked at the tiny screen. “Your temp’s just a little over a hundred. Not too high. Any idea what’s wrong with you?”

      She shook her head.

      “Okay.” Dr. Bartolo didn’t appear to be any more convinced of that than Jack did of her amnesia story. He flicked the plastic disposable tip into the trash and placed the thermometer back into his bag. “Are you taking any meds?”

      Alana glanced at Jack. “No.”

      Jack frowned. “She said a guard and a nurse gave her some sedatives, and they’d been doing that for some time now,” he explained. And he didn’t think she’d forgotten that already. Her eyes narrowed slightly as if she hadn’t wanted to share that information with the doctor.

      “Sedatives?” the doctor questioned. “What kind?”

      She shook her head again, causing Jack to huff. Before the doctor’s arrival, she’d been chatty, so why hush now? “The kind of sedatives that might cause memory loss,” Jack provided. “Or not. She could be making that part up.”

      That caused some concern in the doctor’s eyes. “If there’s a possibility of memory loss, she needs to be hospitalized. I’d also need to do a tox screen to see if there’s anything in her blood.”

      “Would a fever that low cause her to hallucinate?” Jack asked Dr. Bartolo. “Or could sedatives do that?”

      He lifted his shoulder. “Not the fever but possibly the sedatives. Why? What makes you think she’s hallucinating?”

      “A couple of things, but we can try to figure out all of that at the hospital.” And once he had more details, he’d have to deal with the stolen car issue. It was entirely possible that the sheriff of the town where the stolen car complaint was filed would come and take Alana back to face those charges.

      Jack hated that he felt relief about that.

      But he did. The sooner he got Alana Davis out of Joey’s life, the better.

      “I have to go to the bathroom,” Alana announced, standing. But she had to catch his desk to stop herself from falling. Or maybe it was all an act to get him to feel sorry for her.

      “Across the hall.” Jack pointed in that direction. Both Jack and the doctor watched her as she made her way into the tiny room.

      “Okay,” Dr. Bartolo said the moment the bathroom door closed. “What’s this all about? Did she come back to town to try to get Joey from you?”

      “I don’t know.” There was so much about this that didn’t make sense. “She says she doesn’t remember giving birth to him.”

      “Is that so?” Bartolo stayed quiet a moment. “I guess that means she can’t or won’t say why she left town the way she did.”

      “She says she doesn’t remember that, either. But she does remember being taken captive after leaving the hospital.” Jack paused to figure out how best to phrase this. “Is it possible she’s crazy?”

      “It’s possible,” the doctor readily agreed. “After all, most normal women wouldn’t just abandon their newborn the way she did.”

      True. Her behavior here tonight hadn’t convinced him that she was doing any better than she had been eight months ago.

      “But maybe it’s something equally obvious,” the doctor continued. “Maybe she’s broken the law. Maybe she’s a criminal, and she’s telling you she has memory loss to cover up something else.”

      Jack mulled that over and cursed.

      He bolted toward the bathroom. The door was locked, of course. So he pounded on it. “Alana, open up!”

      Nothing.

      Not so much as a sniffle.

      Though he was riled enough to bash down the door, he resisted. Because he knew it wouldn’t do any good. There was a small window in the bathroom, and if his instincts were right, Alana had already used it, to escape.

      Jack raced down the hall, past the jail cell and headed for the rear exit. It was raining harder now, but that didn’t slow him down. He ran to the east exterior side of the building, to the sliver of an alleyway that separated the sheriff’s office from City Hall. The narrow space was made even narrower by a dark green Dumpster stuck right in the middle. And it was pitch black.

      Someone screamed.

       Alana.

      With his heart pounding now, he drew his gun and raced around the Dumpster. Jack spotted her white nightgown. She appeared to be struggling with someone.

      “What’s going on?” he called out.

      Just like that, the struggle stopped, and Alana fell back against the wall. Hard. She stayed on her feet and pointed in the opposition direction from where he was standing.

      Jack thought he heard footsteps, but he couldn’t be sure because of the pounding rain. Keeping his gun ready just in case, he went to her.

      “Did you see him?” Alana asked.

      “See who?” Jack automatically looked around.

      “It was the guard from the house,” she said, still pointing. “He was trying to make me go back.”

      Jack heard another sound.

      A car engine.

      He sprinted to the alley opening that led to Main Street, and stopped just short of the sidewalk. Using the sheriff’s office for cover, he glanced around the corner.

      A dark-colored car sped away.

      Mud or something had been smeared over