The Other Amanda
Living DangerouslyA past too painful to remember…Amnesia was less painful than the truth!Amanda Braithwaite, pampered niece of hospital administrator Randall Chambers, is found badly hurt in a park, but can't remember how she got there. In fact, she can't even remember her own name. The only person she does remember is Dr. Jonathan Taylor, the man who saved her life.As pieces of her past begin to surface, she tries to understand the person she has been. Obviously Jonathan, a man who seems to share her memories, holds the key. But perhaps the door is better left locked. After all, someone had wanted to kill the other Amanda….
Читать The Other Amanda онлайн беплатно
Table of Contents
Jonathan squeezed her hand
“You’re safe here. The police will find the person who attacked you.”
Panic screamed through her aching body. She knew she could trust him, but not all those other people—the police, the family. She couldn’t fit them into the puzzle that was her life, no matter how hard she tried.
An awakening instinct warned her to hide her fear. Maybe the emptiness inside her would fill up with all the pieces she needed. Until then she was alone.
She balled both her hands into fists. She had to try to explain.
“I’m afraid because…because I can’t remember anything. About myself. About my past.”
She unfurled one fist, her fingers desperately searching out his as she willed him to understand.
“The only memory I have is you.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lynn Leslie is the pen name of the dynamic writing team of sisters-in-law Sherrill “Lynn” Bodine and Elaine “Leslie” Sima. Both women have been writing for most of their lives and are avid researchers, a skill that is evident in all their novels.
Both women love to travel and are involved in various social-service groups in their communities. They also love to spend time with their families, who reside in the Chicago area.
To Dr. Marc Simeon Karlan.
Thank you for your expertise— you gave us exactly what we needed!
With special thanks to Dr. Steven E. Rolhke and to Sue and Norm Westerhold for all those great weekends in northern Wisconsin.
PROLOGUE
ACROSS THE PARK the moon, like a giant red beach ball just above Lake Michigan, beckoned her into the night. Surely it would be cooler by the water. Here, under the Majestic Hotel marquee, the combination of good old Windy City summer humidity and hot lights made her skin feel clammy.
She flicked open her compact to examine her carefully made-up face. Blush highlighted her cheekbones, accentuating the hollows in her face. Her lips were pale and glossy but her eyes looked tired. And frightened. She stretched her lids so her mascaraed lashes nearly brushed her brows and smiled experimentally.
There, that looked better. No one but she would notice the tiny glimmer of anxiety that lingered.
Somehow, some way, she had to change her life.
Holding that thought, she dropped the compact back into her evening bag, waved at the doorman and started across the street toward the lake.
The park grass felt like a slippery cushion under her feet. She slowed her pace to avoid catching her heels. She couldn’t be late for this appointment, but she didn’t want to arrive with a run in her stockings or grass stains on her dress.
When she was halfway through the park, she noticed that the moon had risen high over the lake and dimmed to a pale glow. It seemed as if all the lights in the world had gone out. Where a moment before she had seen park benches and a children’s playground to her left, everything now lay in shadow.
Suddenly, out of the darkness something hurled itself against her legs. A scream tore from her throat, and she swayed for balance before she realized it was a small white poodle dragging a leash.
Relief flooded through her. Abnormal relief. Overwhelming relief. She leaned over to pet the furry animal licking her leg, laughing nervously at the absurdity of her fears.
“Hi there, guy. Where’s your owner?”
“Ralphie! Ralphie, stop jumping on the pretty lady!” An elderly woman, her face flushed, rushed up to grab the leash with trembling fingers. “I’m so sorry. The naughty boy got away from me again,” she gasped.
“That’s all right. No harm done.” She straightened while watching the woman struggle to catch her breath. “Are you all right? Can I help you?”
“No, no. I’m fine now.” The woman held up her hand, with Ralphie’s leash wound tight around her palm. “I have him and I’m taking him straight home.”
“Okay. Have a nice evening.” She smiled and stepped back, anxious now to reach her destination.
“You, too. Be careful in the park, dear. It’s getting dark.”
She nodded and walked backward for several yards, watching the woman to make sure she would be all right. Ralphie and his owner disappeared behind some bushes. Beyond the darkness, lights flickered on through the trees like fireflies. Part of her wanted to follow the old woman and her dog out of the park, back toward those lights, but she knew she couldn’t.
Sighing, she turned around slowly. She had to get this over with before she could take the woman’s advice. She crossed a reservoir of darkness between the town lights behind her and the moon-painted lake before her. The sudden and complete silence made her feel very isolated. She might be the only person in the world.
Alone, in a dark, silent universe. Funny, how often she felt this way.
A rustle off to her left, like something or someone brushing against one of the low bushes shattered the quiet. Probably a raccoon, or maybe another dog, she reasoned. Yet a tingle of fear made her quicken her pace in spite of the treacherous grass.
