Solid as Steele by Susan Sleeman

2

Mackenzie held on the phone while Jeffers added the black cross tattoo to his search. She looked at the man. He might really be a believer. Or not. A rough, almost violent-looking cross didn’t necessarily mean it symbolized Christianity. And why did he keep running his finger over it?

If the cross did relate to being a Christian, it gave her a bit more confidence in his trustworthiness. But she’d spent years as a trooper and knew cross tattoos didn’t always symbolize Christianity. In fact, they often didn’t. For now, she would take this new bit of information at face value.

“Owen,” he blurted out.

“What?”

“Owen seems familiar.” He sat forward, his eyelashes beating rapidly. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s my name, but it feels right.”

“Then that’s what we’ll call you.”

“Okay.” The insecurity in that big tough body that she imagined would portray a demeanor of confident and in charge behavior had to leave him hurting something fierce.

At least she’d be hurting. She liked to control things. Way too much. One of her downfalls.

She turned her attention back to her call. “Hey, Jeffers. Add the first name Owen to the search too.”

She picked up her coffee and took a long draw. Cold. Yuck. She hadn’t had her fill this morning and would get another hot cup when she got off the call.

Then what? What if Jeffers didn’t locate any matches? Could she send Owen packing?

She could hear her dad and grandad lecturing her on safety. Her cousin Thomas had been violently murdered, and everyone had a heightened sense of the bad things that could happen. Not only had they personally experienced the terror of violent crime, but they’d also witnessed it on the job for years.

But when everything became too much to bear, her mom and gran would remind her to have compassion and live her faith. Which she did.

But which should win out here? Safety or faith?

“No matches on the tattoo,” Jeffers said. “And really nothing remotely resembling the description you gave me. But I can dig deeper and keep at it if you want.”

“That would be great.”

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“No.”

“You know I don’t like that, but I have to respect your decision.” He let out a noisy breath through the phone. “Be careful, Steele. You might not be one of us anymore, but we don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“Thanks.” She ended the call and looked at Owen. “Would you agree to be fingerprinted?”

“Fingerprinted?” He gaped at her as if she’d asked for his firstborn child. “Man, I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem if you don’t have anything to hide, right?”

He tilted his head, and that razor-sharp gaze locked on her again. “What if law enforcement is involved in whatever incapacitated me?”

Interesting take on things.“The odds of that are very slim.”

“But not impossible.”

“No, not impossible.” She resisted sighing over his stubbornness. “Ever think it’s as simple as you fell and hit your head?”

“My gut says it’s more than that, but I could be exaggerating things.”

“What if I take your picture and do an internet image search?”

“Hey, yeah.” His expression brightened. “That sounds good.”

She stood and moved closer to him. “We might get a better match if you smile.”

He smiled, but the lines were tight and forced. She wished she could make him smile for real.

Why on earth was she trusting this stranger? Sure, he claimed to be a Christian, but people could claim anything.

Just get the work done. The sooner you know something about him, the better.

She snapped a few pics and stepped back.

“After I do the search, we should get you into town for medical attention.”

He lifted his hand to his head. “I’m fine.”

“You might feel fine, but you blacked out, right?”

“Yes.”

“Often a sign of concussion and a head injury’s not something to mess with.”

“I suppose not.”

“After that, we can stop at the OSP outpost in town to get your fingerprints taken.”

“Right.” He frowned. “I’m still not sure that’s a good idea.”

“You want to know who you are, right?”

“I do. But if they search my prints, won’t my ID only show up if I’m a criminal? I don’t think I want to hear that I’m a bad guy.”

He sounded sincere again, but she had to hold off on deciding how to deal with him. “The database also includes law enforcement officers. Federal applicants. Employees and military too.”

He let out a breath. “Okay, I’ll do it on one condition. Before we go to the police, I want to try to retrace my steps. See if I can figure out where I’ve been and what happened.”

She didn’t ever like conditions placed on her actions and wasn’t keen on this one. “Are you up to doing that? Physically, I mean.”

“Not sure.”

“Maybe we should wait until tomorrow. Let you get a good night’s sleep first.”

“And where do I sleep? No money. No credit cards. Means a hotel is out. No car.” He tilted his head. “I don’t suppose you’d let me sleep out here again.”

“With as cold as it gets at night that’s not a good idea.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so. Maybe the hospital staff can help me find a shelter.”

“There’s a guest house out back,” she said before thinking it through. “You can stay there.”

His eyes flashed wide. “You sure? I mean, I don’t plan to hurt you, but…”

“But you don’t know who you are or what you’re capable of.”

“Exactly.”

She knew that to be true. Just like she knew she probably shouldn’t let him stay on the property or even go out into the wilderness alone with him. But he shouldn’t be hiking alone for who knows how many miles in his condition.

She needed help. But who?

She thought about the trek through the desert. About how they might follow his trail. They needed help. “We should have a guide for the morning. Someone who knows how to follow your trail.”

“I don’t suppose you know someone like that.”

“I do. A whole team of guys actually. They own a company called Shadow Lake Survival where they teach off-grid survival techniques. I’ll call to ask one of them to come out tonight to stay with me. Then escort us tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” He actually sounded relieved. “But it’s something else I can’t pay for.”

“I’m friends with the owners—the Maddox brothers. I grew up going to their resort every summer with my family, and we became friends. They’ll do it for me without charge.”

He sat forward and planted his hands on his knees. “Then I would be thankful for their help, but once I remember who I am and can access my finances, I will pay them.”

If you remember and have the money,she didn’t say aloud. No point in kicking the guy when he was down.

The small but modern hospital had newer navy-blue chairs and a beige tile floor in the waiting area that smelled like strong antiseptic. The registration staff were kind, but Owen had a hard time getting registered. Apparently, if you didn’t know your name, their kindness evaporated, and they looked at you funny.

So yeah. No ID. No insurance. No service?

Maybe not.

“Take my ID and credit card to guarantee payment.” Mackenzie showed her ID and slapped her credit card on the counter.

The clerks held a discussion among themselves then agreed to let him in and generated a mound of paperwork.

Owen watched her, her tongue peeking out the corner of her mouth as she read down each page and ticked boxes with solid checkmarks.

No questions asked. No hesitation. Just compassion and kindness in action.

What kind of stranger did that for another human being?

A Christian, that’s who.

Did she believe him to be a good guy? He hoped he was, but with the suspicious circumstances of his injury and not having any ID meant the odds were probably fifty/fifty that he was a bad guy too.

Still, she was one of the good ones. And sharp too. She’d called a rideshare for the drive from the cabin instead of getting into a vehicle with a stranger who could overpower her. Had already overpowered her. He rode in the backseat. She rode in the front. If the driver thought it odd that she requested to be separated from him, he didn’t comment.

“Done.” She pushed the clipboard across the counter to the clerk.

The older woman gave a wavering smile. “Have a seat in the lobby, and we’ll call you as soon as possible.”

Turned out as soon as possible meant an hour later, but once Owen reached the exam room, he quickly undressed and discovered ugly purple bruises on his abdomen and chest. He’d not only fallen and hit his head, but he’d also hit something hard with his body.

Or he’d been attacked with fists. Ambushed, maybe.

The young doctor who looked like he was just out of med school and sleep deprived, entered the space before Owen could get his gown lifted over his shoulders. “I’m Dr. Patterson.”

He moved closer to Owen. “Those are some impressive contusions. Leave the gown where it is so I can examine you.” He gloved up and palpitated Owen’s bruises while running through a list of questions. He moved to Owen’s back. “Multiple contusions here too.”

He listened to Owen’s heart and lungs. “And you don’t remember what happened?”

“All I know is I came to at the base of a butte and a large boulder next to me had blood on it. Figured I might’ve fallen off the butte.”

Patterson tightened his mouth into a hard slash. “How high was the butte?”

“Not sure, but it wasn’t high. Maybe ten feet max.”

“In that case, the many contusions seem unlikely. I more suspect you’ve been beaten.”

Yeah, Owen did too, but he didn’t want to admit it as that might indicate criminal activity.

“Let’s get a look at that head wound.” The doctor pulled Owen’s head forward and probed the open wound. He stepped back and performed what Owen knew to be a neurological exam, and Owen thought he passed the tests.

Patterson ripped off the gloves and disposed of them. “You’re not exhibiting any of the classic symptoms of a serious head injury other than loss of consciousness.”

Seriously?“What about the memory loss?”

“We can discuss that after we do a CT scan, but I don’t think we’ll find your injury caused the amnesia.”

Owen took a second to try to digest that information. “Then what in the world would’ve caused it?”

Patterson looked Owen straight in the face. “I suspect we’re looking at an emotional shock that caused psychogenic or dissociative amnesia.”

“Maybe I saw something before I was injured?” Owen clarified.

“Could be.” Patterson continued to peer at Owen. “Or like I mentioned, You could’ve suffered an intense beating. But let’s get that CT for your head and take a good look at your internal organs, too. I want to see if they suffered any damage. Then we can go from there.”

He spun and marched out of the room.

Owen pulled up his gown and tied it at his neck. Thoughts pinged through his head like the steel ball in a pinball machine. But like the machine, the levers failed and the balls of thought fell away without revealing anything.

What could he have seen that would be so shocking that he didn’t want to remember it or anything else? He couldn’t even begin to figure it out without knowing his identity and why he’d been in the desert all alone without ID. Or had the person who hurt him stolen it?

The technician arrived to take him down for the CT, and Owen settled into the wheelchair for the ride. He wanted to pound his hand against his head to jar something loose in there, but held off. The doc didn’t think Owen had a serious head injury, but he wouldn’t risk hitting himself just in case. Not to mention it would hurt and do no good other than to alleviate some frustration.

The staff efficiently performed the scan, and Owen quickly returned to his exam room again, the young doctor standing in front of him.

“The good news is you don’t have any internal injuries or bleeding,” Patterson said. “And just as I suspected, no brain hematomas or skull fractures. However, since you did lose consciousness, you fit the diagnosis for a concussion. A mild one, I suspect.”

“So I can go home?” Owen asked though he had no idea where home was.

“Yes, but I need you to be cautious and watch for certain symptoms.” He went on to describe a list of symptoms and things that might or might not happen. “Do you have someone who can stay with you tonight to wake you every few hours to be sure you can awaken normally?”

If his memory came back, would he have anyone in his life who would do that for him? Somehow he believed he might be a loner.

“Sir?” Patterson asked.

“Yeah, sure. The person who brought me in,” he answered quickly so the doctor would discharge him, but he couldn’t possibly ask Mackenzie to let him stay in her cabin. That she was allowing him to spend the night in the guest house was beyond generous. And maybe a little foolish, but then she did have a gun for protection and she was calling the guide to stay with her.

Owen would simply have to monitor himself. Or the outdoor guide could stay in the guest house too. But Mackenzie’s friend would already be doing Owen a favor just by coming to lead them through the desert. Having to get up every few hours when they had a big day ahead wasn’t a fair ask.

Owen was on his own.

Why did that bother him almost as much as losing his memory?

Mackenzie paced the sidewalk outside the ER, a brisk wind whipping her hair in her face as she held her phone to her ear. “C’mon, Ryan, answer.”

“Mac, is that you?” His breathless voice came over the phone, sounding like he’d run to answer.

“Yeah. Am I interrupting something?”

“Just finishing a run. What’s up?”

She told him about her situation. “Could you or someone on your team make it out here ASAP then guide us tomorrow? Tonight would be best.”

She explained her reasoning, held her breath, and waited for his response.

“We’ve got a big gig tomorrow, but let me check with my brothers to see if they can handle things without me.”

“I don’t want to cause any problems.”

“No worries. You’ve always been a problem in my life, so what’s new?” He chuckled.

She laughed with him, but deep down, there was some truth to his statement. In their early teens, he’d taken a liking to her. Boyfriend/girlfriend kind of liking. She never thought of him that way. It had caused an issue for two summers, but then she started dating in high school, and about the same time, he fell for a girl named Mia Blackburn whose uncle owned the resort next door, and that was the end of his interest in Mackenzie.

“If the guys give me a pass,” Ryan continued. “I could be there by six.”

“Sounds perfect. Owen will bunk in the guest house and you can stay in the cabin with me or with him. Your choice.”

“Hmm, a potential criminal or a beautiful woman? No contest.” He laughed again. “I’ll take the crook.”

She hadn’t seen or talked to Ryan in about a year and had forgotten what a joker he could be. His good nature would help lighten the mood with the very serious Owen.

“How long of a trek are we talking about?” Ryan asked.

“We’re not really sure. Owen said he believes he walked most of the night.”

“Then I’ll bring provisions for an overnight campout.”

“That sounds great.” She took a moment to consider other items she might need to mention to Ryan. “Since this guy doesn’t know who he is or if he has any money, he can’t pay you, but I can.”

“You still make that earthquake cake?”

Odd question.“I haven’t for years, but I sure can.”

“That will be payment enough if you can rustle one up by the time I get there.”

“That I can do.” She laughed. “Text me when you know if you’re sure you can come.”

“Will do.”

She ended the call and went back through the sliding doors of the ER’s main entrance, the whoosh as they slid drawing attention from the patients inside. She spotted Owen striding across the lobby, his gaze seeking the area around him. He had the look of a cop. A person who was always assessing his surroundings for potential danger. Or maybe a desperate criminal who feared he was being hunted.

She’d never realized how similar the look could be between the two types of people. But there were differences too. The officer’s expression usually held confidence. The criminal mostly held fear. And Owen was marching like a man with purpose. Shoulders back. Long, fast strides. Chest thrust out.

A man who was used to being in charge. That was her take on it, anyway.

He approached her, but kept on walking, moving past her, striding through the door and outside. She followed him. He took deep breaths as if being inside smothered him, and he needed fresh air. Maybe he’d gotten bad news. She opened her mouth to ask.

“I’m ready to go,” he said. “Can you arrange another ride?”

“Sure.” She thumbed through her phone to the rideshare program and requested to be picked up. “Good news. Only five minutes out.”

She stowed her phone and looked at him. “What did the doctor say?”

“No serious head injury. Not bad enough to cause the amnesia.”

Curious.“Then what?”

“He thinks I suffered some sort of traumatic shock.” Owen shoved his hands into his sweatshirt pockets.

What in the world had he witnessed out in the desert that was bad enough to make a strong guy like this lose his memory? She desperately wanted to know, but even more—feared the answer.

Maybe he did too as he fell silent, and they stared ahead until the four-door sedan arrived. He opened the front door and asked if she could ride in front. The female driver agreed. Probably because he smiled at her. And man, what a smile. Mackenzie caught it only from the side, but all those rugged good looks turned into charming and playful.

He moved out of her way, and that smile traveled with him, broadening as he locked onto her face. Mackenzie had a pure shot to the heart. Then it changed to fear.

A sociopath killer could turn on the charm like this too.

She climbed into the silver Honda that held a strong scent from a pine tree air freshener dangling from the mirror. Owen settled in the back, the car shifting with his weight.

Which guy was she going home with? The charming man he seemed to be or a man who might be planning to kill her?

She’d always been good at reading people and didn’t like him for the sociopath vibe, but she wasn’t always right. She had her gun, and hopefully, Ryan would be there tonight for added protection.

She faced the driver. “I need to stop at the nearest grocery store. I only need a few things, and I’ll pay extra for you to wait.”

“Sure thing.” The young woman fixed her attention on merging into traffic and soon pulled into a small mom-and-pop grocery store.

The older store was clean, and the mouthwatering scent of freshly baked bread drifted down the aisles. The smell urged Mackenzie to grab a loaf for dinner, but she’d brought a nice whole wheat loaf that her gran had baked for the trip so resisted the urge. The loaf was supposed to last Mackenzie the whole week but probably wouldn’t make it through a day with Owen and Ryan eating with her.

She jerked a small cart free from a stack, the metal grinding and clanging as the back dropped down. She started for the baking aisle and felt Owen’s attention on her for the trip through the store.

“I might not know much,” he said. “But my Spidey sense tells me you’re going to be baking something.”

She grabbed a bag of coconut and squeezed it to confirm freshness. “A cake for Ryan Maddox, the guy who’ll be guiding us tomorrow. That’s his payment.”

An eyebrow went up. “Not much of a payment.”

“You haven’t tasted my cake.” She laughed.

Owen cracked a smile.

“I’m also going to grab food for a meal tonight and breakfast for the three of us, and Ryan will bring supplies for on the trail. Anything else you want while we’re here?”

“I’m good with whatever you have.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Think you’re putting me out so much. You’re not. Really. I like to help. And if I were in your shoes I would hope someone would do this for me. Jesus would, you know.”

“Yeah. Guess I’m not good at accepting help.”

“Hey, this is a good thing.” She smiled at him. “You’ve learned something about yourself.”

He frowned. “Might be better if it was a positive thing, but yeah. Guess I know myself better now.”

Please let this guy figure out who he is. And please, please, let him be one of the good guys.