DIAGNOSIS: ATTRACTION by REBECCA YORK Page A

her back?
    She made a frustrated sound. Every which way she turned led to some new dead end. No, not really new. Just another manifestation of the same old sense of defeat.
    She tried to go back to sleep, but that was beyond her. Finally she heaved herself up and went down the hall. Hoping she wasn’t going to wake up Polly, she prowled around the kitchen, checking ingredients in the refrigerator and the pantry. Polly had the makings of a vegetarian minestrone soup. Well, vegetarian except for the chicken broth.
    Yes, she could make that and put it in the refrigerator for later.
    She stopped and laughed out loud. Was cooking what she did to relax herself?
    She didn’t know, but it was something to occupy her mind while she tried to get the rest of her life back.
    * * *
    C YNTHIA P RICE WAS back at the nurses’ station in the morning when another young man showed up. Last time it had been a guy who had said he was Elizabeth’s brother, although Cynthia had wondered if it was true. This time it was a different story.
    “I understand you had a woman here who doesn’t remember her name or anything else,” he began.
    “Yes,” Cynthia answered cautiously.
    “She didn’t have any identification on her?”
    “No purse.”
    “She was in an auto accident. Did the police check the car’s registration?”
    “That was a dead end. The car belonged to someone else who’s on an extended trip outside the country.”
    “Your patient’s a mystery woman.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “I was thinking I might be able to help her.”
    “Who are you?”
    “Oh, sorry. I’m a newspaper reporter with the Baltimore Observer. ”
    “Never heard of it.”
    “We’re an online publication. That gives us the flexibility to get the news up quickly.”
    Cynthia waited for him to say more.
    “If I did an article about the woman—Jane Doe—someone might come forward to, you know, claim her.”
    “We don’t have a picture of her.”
    “But do you know where she went?”
    Cynthia hesitated, weighing the upside and the downside. Polly had said not to talk about Elizabeth, but this was a newspaper reporter who might be able to help her.
    “She went home with one of our nurses,” she finally said.
    “One of the nurses from this floor.”
    Cynthia swallowed. “Yes, but if you get someone who thinks they know her, you can call me, and I’ll contact her.”
    “You can’t give me her name?”
    “I’d rather not.”
    “Okay. And what else can you tell me? Can you give me a description of her?”
    Cynthia thoughtfora moment. “She was in her late twenties or early thirties. Her hair was short and dark, curly. Her eyes were blue. Her face was oval-shaped. She’s about five feet five inches tall and weighs about 110 pounds. Does that help?”
    “That’s excellent.”
    Cynthia was starting to wonder if she had done the right thing. “What did you say your name was?”
    “Jack Regan.”
    “You have a card?”
    He handed her one with his name and a phone number.
    She bent it back and forth in her hand.
    “I’ll call if I get a lead,” he said.
    “When will the article be out?”
    “I’ll let you know.”
    The man left, and Cynthia looked toward the phone. Should she call Polly? Or should she just act like nothing had happened? In the end she didn’t make the call.
    * * *
    E LIZABETH WAS THINKING that she would have never in her life have considered finding herself in this helpless situation. Then she laughed because she was making up the “never in her life” part. The truth was that if she had imagined this, she didn’t know about it because the memory was missing.
    She showered and dressed, and spent a restless morning flipping through TV channels.
    Over two hundred channels and nothing held her interest. As she looked out the back window, her gaze roamed over Polly’s weedy garden. If Elizabeth went out and worked in it for a few hours, at least she’d be doing something constructive.
    This was one of the days Polly didn’t