Page 13 of Diagnosis Attraction

“We only got a few things. You just relax.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth took off her slacks, jacket, and shoes and lay down, thinking she’d get up in a few minutes.

Matthew Delano struggled with a feeling of guilt that hung over him as he finished making his rounds. He then went down to the office on the first floor, where he entered some information into the computerized patients’ charts. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he saw patients in the hospital clinic, but he had the afternoon free today. And he couldn’t stop thinking about Elizabeth Doe.

She was in trouble, and he’d walked away from her because he was uncomfortable with the sexual heat that had flared between them when he’d touched her. But he felt like a bastard for abandoning her when she wasn’t in any kind of shape to fend for herself.

He’d told himself it was unethical to spend time with her once she was discharged from the hospital, but ethics cut both ways. What if something terrible happened to her, and he could have prevented it by helping her bring back the memories she needed?

He was silently debating what to do when a knock on his office door interrupted him.

“Come in,” he called.

A man wearing dark slacks and a navy sweater over a white dress shirt stepped into the office. He looked to be in his late twenties, and he had broad shoulders, a muscular build, and large, dangerous-looking hands. His face wasn’t particularlyremarkable, although perhaps he had broken his nose sometime in the past. The overall impression he gave was negative, although Matt couldn’t exactly explain why. Just as he’d gotten the feeling that Elizabeth Doe was a good person, he sensed that this guy was “bad,” even with no facts to back that up.

The guy looked like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, only there was something behind his eyes that told Matt his mood could turn deadly in an instant. “Dr. Delano?”

“Yes,” he said, still sizing up the man.

“I’m Bob Wilson. I understand you saw a patient with amnesia?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss my patients.”

“Yes, of course. I understand completely. But I think she might be my sister.”

“Why?”

“She told me she was coming over yesterday, but she never showed up.”

“And you haven’t heard from her?”

“No.”

“The woman I treated was listed as Jane Doe. What’s your sister’s name?”

“Elizabeth Simmons.”

He hoped he didn’t show any reaction. The Elizabeth part was right, but was that really her last name? And why did he doubt this guy?

“Do you have her picture?”

“Of course.” The man pulled out his phone and brought up a photograph that looked like it might have been taken for a college yearbook.

“Yes, that’s her,” he reluctantly said. There was no way out of the admission because if he lied about it, his having treated her was a matter of record.

Wilson’s face lit up, but not in a way Matt liked.

“Thank God. Do you know where she’s gone?”

This lie was easy. “Sorry.”

“You’re sure you have no idea?”

“Sorry,” he said again. “I can’t help you. I’d left the floor before she was discharged.”

The man’s expression turned hard. “If you do hear about her, I’d like you to call me.” He took out a business card that said Bob Wilson and handed it over. There was a phone number on the card but nothing else besides the name.

“What do you do, Mr. Wilson?”

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