The Deputy's Lost and Found / Her Second Chance Cop. Jeanie London

“And my head doesn’t hurt nearly as much.”

      He moved across the room, then stopped a couple of feet from her chair. The late afternoon sun slanted a golden ray across her lap and cast a sheen to her crow-black hair. Except for her cheeks, her skin was as pale as milk and he found himself tempering the urge to reach over and touch it, test its softness with the pads of his fingers.

      Clearing his throat, he said, “That’s good. Bridget says you’re on the mend.”

      Her features tightened. “Did she also tell you that she sent a psychiatrist to talk with me?”

      Brady looked at her in surprise. “No. But I’m glad. I told her to help you in every way that she could. Obviously she’s not going to leave any stone unturned.” He took a seat on the edge of the narrow bed. “So what did the psychiatrist have to say?”

      She rubbed her hands nervously down the thighs of her jeans. “Well, that I’m not crazy or anything like that.”

      Brady grinned. “I could have told you that much.”

      She darted a sober glance at him. “He also said that I might not be remembering because I’m afraid to remember.”

      Folding his arms against his chest, Brady studied her with interest. “Like a psychosomatic thing,” he said.

      Her brows arched with surprise. “Why, yes. How did you know that? Have you studied medicine, too?”

      Brady chuckled. “No. I left that to my sisters. I’m a lawman. I study human characters. And believe me, seeing people under stress and in trouble makes for a good psychology class.”

      Dropping her head, she let out a heavy breath. “Well, I’ve not remembered anything. Unless you count the dream I had. And that didn’t tell me much. Except that I was running in the dark and whatever was behind me was scaring the living daylights out of me.” She looked up at him, her expression twisted with something close to agony. “Your sister says she’s going to release me from the hospital tomorrow. What does that mean, Deputy Donovan? What will happen to me then?”

      He swiftly shook his head. “I’d be pleased if you’d call me Brady. And don’t worry—we’ll find some place nice for you to stay until we can get a fix on where you really belong.”

      Suddenly it dawned on him that she had nothing but the clothes on her back. No handbag with all the little necessities women carried with them. No cell phone filled with numbers of friends and family that she might call for help. No credit cards or checkbook or any sort of means to provide for herself. She was totally dependent and, at the moment, looking straight at him for answers.

      She didn’t make any sort of reply to his comment and Brady figured there wasn’t much she could say. She was at the mercy of the county and what it could provide for her. Unless he stepped in, he thought, as his mind suddenly jumped forward. Since his older sister, Maura, had married Quint Cantrell, her room had become empty. Brady’s home, the Diamond D Ranch, was a huge place with plenty of space for a guest. What would his family think if he showed up with Lass? He and his sister Dallas had always been guilty of picking up strays that needed a home. Well, Lass was no different, he rationalized. She needed a home in the worst kind of way.

      “Thank you, Brady. I guess … Well, you know the old saying—beggars can’t be choosers. I’m obviously in that position now.”

      Changing the subject for the moment, he suddenly asked, “Did someone from the sheriff’s department come by to take your picture?”

      She nodded. “Yes. A lady. She said you were going to be putting it on posters around town and posting it on the Internet.”

      “That’s right. We also plan to put it in the area papers. See if that will turn up any leads. But in the meantime, you’ll need some help. A place to stay, clothes and things like that. I’m thinking—” His gaze zeroed in on hers. “How would you feel about staying at my home? Until we get your problem worked out?”

      Her gray eyes narrowed with something like mistrust. “I don’t understand. I’m not your responsibility. I mean, I know that you and your partner are the ones who found me, but that doesn’t mean—”

      She broke off as he quickly shook his head. “Look, Lass, I’ll be frank. I don’t think you’d much like living in a shelter. You wouldn’t have much privacy and some of the women there—they’re dealing with some pretty bad problems.”

      Her lips quivered. “And I’m not?”

      He tried to give her the same sort of smile Brady’s mother gave him when he was fretting over an issue that was beyond his control. “As of right now, Lass, the only problem we’re certain that you have is amnesia. And the way I see it, you could’ve had a whole lot worse things happen to you.”

      “Maybe I did. And we just don’t know. Maybe I’d bring trouble to your family and—” Her words abruptly trailing off, she shook her head and rose slowly from her chair. “I don’t want to be a burden or a … problem. Thank you for your kind offer, Brady, but I can’t accept.”

      Feeling ridiculously squashed, he watched her move to the window and stare out at the small manicured lawn at the back of the building. To one side of the grassy area, a patio had been constructed and offered a group of comfortable lawn chairs to visitors who needed a break from the confines of a sterile hospital room.

      At the moment a young woman with two small children in hand was strolling among the potted desert plants that adorned the patio. Lass appeared to be focused on the sight of the playful youngsters and Brady wondered if she might have children of her own, children that were missing their mother. For some reason he didn’t like the image of her being a mother, or a wife. And yet, he realized that if she did have a family waiting for her somewhere, she needed to get back to them as quickly as possible. More importantly, it was his job to see that she was reunited with her loved ones.

      “I assure you, Lass, you’re not going to cause trouble. And even if you did, we Donovans know how to deal with trouble. Besides, you being on the ranch would be a big help to me.”

      A frown puckered her forehead as she pulled her attention away from the children and over to him. “Really? How is that?”

      “Well, until we discover your identity, you’re going to have to keep in close contact with the sheriff’s department. Since I’m in charge of your case that means me. And having you on the Diamond D will make it convenient for the two of us to work together.” “The Diamond D,” she repeated thoughtfully. “I think I recall you saying last night that you lived on a ranch. Your family raises cattle?”

      “Horses,” he explained. “Racehorses.”

      “Oh.” The frown on her face deepened. “What do you do with racehorses around here? The nurses tell me that this is a relatively small town. Most of the major tracks are on the east and west coasts.”

      Rising from the bed, he joined her at the window. As he rested his hip on the wide seal, he studied her keenly. “If you remember such things as that, then apparently a part of your memory is working. As for our horses, we—or I should say my brother Liam—hauls them cross-country to race. But Ruidoso has a track and it’s becoming significant in its own right. It’s the home of the Million Dollar Futurity that takes place every Labor Day.”

      “I see,” she murmured, then thoughtfully shook her head. “I wonder why I knew about the major tracks? Perhaps I’m connected to the business in some way. But I’m … only guessing. It’s just a feeling I have. Not a memory.”

      Brady’s mind was leaping in all direction as he attempted to connect what dots he had. “I don’t know if this means anything, Lass, but one of the deputies found a wagering ticket from Ruidoso Downs not far from where you were found. The track, betting, horses—do any of those things ring a bell?”

      She stared out the window for long moments, then with a groan of defeat, pressed a hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry, Brady. When I try to think of anything personal,