Forget Me Not: A Novel (Crossroads Crisis Center) by Vicki Hinze Page B

formed in Ben’s mind. He could have grasped it but sensed Susan associated with it so he buried it instead. “Don’t know him.”
    “Oh, please.” Peggy had no association reservations.
    Heat rushed to Ben’s face. “Sorry, I can’t quite place him.”
    “Well, you could if you’d get yourself back to church. He sat in the pew in front of you and Susan for a couple years, Ben.”
    The mental image snapped into sharp focus. “The older guy.” The widower he and Susan had visited after his wife passed. A slow, torturous death from cancer.
Heartless disease
.
    “Yes. The one who wouldn’t lie if his life depended on it.”
    Ben remembered Clyde Parker only too well, and Peggy knew it. “Of course.” Ben gave in, hoping she’d be graceful about it. “So why are you calling me?”
    “Because she looks like Susan. They called her Susan. The card, and—”
    “All right. All right.” He caved, though not graciously. Grace was beyond him. “Where was she abducted?” She remembered she’d been carjacked, so obviously she wasn’t suffering a total memory loss.
    “She doesn’t remember.”
    “Convenient.”
Another scam
.
    “Not really.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Have you ever not known who you were or had your life be a mystery to you?” Peggy asked. “It’s many things, arouses a riot of emotions, Ben, but nothing about it is convenient.”
    Shame burned through him. He had no right to be cold and callous. No matter what he’d been through or lost, this woman could be the realthing. Her experience and injuries could be real too. It was possible. Not probable, but possible. And until he knew otherwise, he should at least be civil. Well, as close to civil as a cynical man could get.
    “You’re right, of course. But she’s claiming to be Susan.”
    “Not exactly. According to Mel, when the woman arrived, she wasn’t claiming to be anyone. She was asking if anyone knew her—because of the card. Then she saw Susan’s painting and things changed.”
    His heart twisted. “Do they resemble each other that much?”
    “Honestly, with all the bruises and swelling it’s hard to tell. But she must think so. Even with my telling her I saw Susan at the crime scene and in her—um, after she passed, the woman still doubted she wasn’t Susan.” Peggy paused, then added, “I understand it, Ben. She believes what she’s seeing with her own eyes, and what she sees is that she’s Susan.”
    “Susan is dead, and we both know it.” The truth hollowed his chest, and its bleak emptiness stretched and filled every crevice, smothering everything good.
    “Yes, but this isn’t about what we know. It’s about this woman and what she knows. And I have to say, there’s too much odd in so many similarities. We can’t just blow this off. We know that too.”
    Peggy had one of her funny feelings. She didn’t have to say it; she’d hinted, and after three years of experience with her, that hint was enough. Maybe the woman wasn’t crazy or a con artist. Maybe she could provide the one piece of evidence or information that would lead him to Susan and Christopher’s killers.
    Don’t dare to hope it, Ben. Don’t dare
.
    He couldn’t, wouldn’t. But neither could he close that door without looking through it. “When Harvey’s finished, conference this.” Ben made a judgment call he could tolerate. “I want to see her myself.”
    “Okay. Good. It’ll be probably another half hour. I’ve given Detective Jeff Meyers the report, but he’s waiting for the docs to finish to see her himself.”
    “She’s agreed to talk with him?”
    “The docs haven’t agreed to it yet. Right now, he’s just asking for an eyes-on look.”
    “Fine, I’ll wait for that. I want Harvey and Lisa to sit in.”
    “You’re coming in to the center?” Surprise riddled her tone.
    “No. Computer conference.”
    “You could come down. Frankly, I could use the help. There’s been a terrorist attack at a mall in Mobile. We nearly