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“No.” She let out a ragged laugh. “Maybe I was already seeing one.”

“Did you ask your fiancé?”

She hadn’t thought about asking Rob. “No,” she admitted.

I should ask Shayla. If anyone would know, it would be her.

“Well, I’ll call her as soon as I leave and see if she can stop by to see you today.”

They were still talking twenty minutes later when Laura’s breakfast arrived, almost immediately followed by Shayla.

Laura got up and hugged the woman, nearly making her drop the plastic food containers she was carrying.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Shayla said after getting the containers safely stacked on the bed tray.

Pastor Ben stood. “It’s quite all right. Laura, I’ll call Dr. Simpson for you and notify the nurses about it.”

“Thank you.” After he left, Laura eyed the containers. “What is all this?”

Shayla smiled. “I’m glad I got here when I did. I brought you breakfast.” She peeled the lid off one of the containers. “Spinach, swiss, and mushroom omelet. One of your favorites.” She handed Laura a fork. “Who was that guy?”

Laura climbed back into bed and took a bite of the omelet. It tasted as good as it looked and smelled. “Pastor Ben. He’s also a pastoral counselor. He’s going to call a psychiatrist for me.” She looked at Shayla. “Did I see a counselor or psychiatrist? Or have anything against them?”

Shayla took the chair the pastor had occupied. “No. Why?”

She shrugged as she forked another bite into her mouth. “I just have this…I don’t know. Visceral reaction to the idea of seeing someone. A psychiatrist. I mean the doctors talked about it, too. Said it might help, so I guess I should.”

Shayla looked thoughtful. “You’ve never said anything about it to me. I would think if you were going to tell anyone, it’d be me or Rob.”

“Hey, am I religious?” She studied her friend.

Shayla let out a snort. “No. Definitely not. You’re not anti-religious, or an atheist, or anything like that. You’re just…not.”

“Oh.”

“Why? Did Pastor Ben make you want to take it up?”

“No, not that. Just didn’t know if there was something I was missing out on. Or if I should be asking some higher power for help.”

Shayla wore a smirk.

“What?”

The other woman shook her head. “No, the only pleas to a deity I ever heard come out of your mouth had nothing to do with religion.” Then Shayla’s eyes widened as a sudden look Laura could only describe as horror crossed the woman’s face.

“What is it?”

A deep red filled Shayla’s cheeks. “Sorry. Nothing.” She stood and rushed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

What the hell?

She set the food container on the bed tray and pulled herself back out of bed. It was getting a little easier to move around the more she did it. Walking over to the bathroom door, she knocked. “Shayla?”

Inside, she heard the toilet flush. “Just a minute.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

She was waiting by the door when Shayla emerged. “What did you mean?”

Laura didn’t need to have her memories to know the smile now pasted on the woman’s face was forced. “Just…you know. Girl talk. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. Is the omelet all right?”

Laura’s stomach growled in protest at being interrupted. “It’s delicious. Thank you.”

Whatever had hit Shayla seemed to be receding as she noticeably relaxed. “Let’s get you back into bed.” Laura let her gently take her arm and help her.

Their eyes met. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Shayla pressed her lips together until they formed a thin line. “You and Rob love each other,” she eventually said. “And you had a great relationship before…before this. I don’t want you hearing the things I have to say and it influences you one way or another about Rob.”

“Why? Are there things I shouldn’t know about him?”

“No, it’s nothing like that.” She studied her fingernails for a moment. “I started thinking about it last night. You and I told each other everything.” A little laugh escaped her. “Everything. And Rob and Tony both know that. And they don’t have a problem with it. But knowing it and suddenly having another woman telling your fiancée stuff you did, it might not make him very comfortable.”

She finally raised her gaze to Laura’s. “I’d feel better if you and Rob try to find your more…private memories together. Does that make sense?”

Oddly enough, it did. Laura nodded. “I just want to know everything. I want it all back. I want my life back. I want my memories back.”

Shayla gently gripped Laura’s hands. “I promise, if they don’t come back after a while, well, then I will. And meanwhile, I’ll tell you anything I know that happened that you told me that’s not…well…”

“Sexual?”

Shayla smiled as she nodded. “Right. Or stuff that I was there for.” Her smile faded. “I promise you,” she softly said, “there’s nothing bad. Not that I know of, and we were close enough that if there was bad stuff, I’d know about it.”

A thought occurred to her. “Did I have any exes? Anyone who might want to do this to me?”

“No. No one that I know of. You dated a couple of guys before you met Rob.”

Suddenly, this felt very important. “Why did I break up with them?”

“Well, one guy cheated on you. Another took a job in New York and you didn’t want a long-distance relationship. And another guy, you only dated him a few weeks before you realized you just didn’t have a lot in common with him. But I knew him. He met someone else and ended up marrying her over a year ago. They’re expecting a baby.”

Laura’s hope faded. “Amicable break-ups?”

“Yes. Well, except for Cheater McSleazy. You were ready to kill him, but he left without a peep. And that was years ago. Why?”

She reached for her omelet. “It was just a hope that maybe there might be a clue to who did this.”

“I don’t know anyone who’d want to do this to you.”

Laura stared at her omelet and made herself take another bite even though her appetite faded with her hope. “I wish I did. I wish I could remember if I did.”

* * *

At 8:55 a.m., Det. Thomas’ desk phone rang. He’d been in the middle of going through several reports he’d been emailed overnight from other law enforcement agencies about unsolved cases with striking similarities to Laura Spaulding’s attack.

“Thomas.”

“Detective, this is Tony Daniels. We spoke briefly last night.”

His full attention shifted from the reports to the caller. “Rob Carlton’s friend?”

“Yes. Everyone will be available to meet with you at nine o’clock tonight at my house.”

He rifled through a pile of papers on his desk for a pen. “Address?”

It was off Bee Ridge in Sarasota, east of I-75.

“No need for court orders, then, I take it?” Daniels asked.

Thomas closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d awoken with a migraine threatening, with no signs of it going away anytime soon. “Look, as long as everyone cooperates with me, I don’t have any desire to drag anyone through the mud.”

“Believe me, we want the asshole who did this to her caught as badly as you do. Unfortunately, none of us know anything that will be of help. You don’t think one of the first thoughts we had was maybe someone from the lifestyle had it out for her?”

He leaned back in his chair. “You let me be the judge of the value of the information, Mr. Daniels.”

“We will. The only person who might not be there right on time is my wife, Shayla, and that’s because she’s at the hospital with Laura while Rob’s at work.”