True Identity (The Lost and Found series Book 1) Page 2

  Harley

  I had to be dead. An angel sang. Her voice filtered through my consciousness and liquefied every cell. The cherub quality infiltrated my consuming darkness, giving me a buoy to latch onto before I drowned in the black ocean of nothing.

  Lost. Unseeing. Unmoving. Stuck somewhere I couldn’t name. Neither here nor there. Up or down? It couldn’t tell. I was but a thought. No body, just awareness. Alert to her sound, with no mistaking the femininity of her tone. And the words, although jumbled, I understood.

  Like a warm cocoon, I was wrapped up in every syllable. Every pitch and dip. The inflection oozed through me and I, through it, as if we were one and the same. I grew wings and soared on the notes. I wanted to cling to them and never let go.

  While I reflected, questions popped up. Had I led a good life? What did I do? Had I been married with children? A criminal or a good, clean man? As much as my memory evaded me, I did know I was male. Without a doubt. An inherent knowing. Different from the voice, as if the polar opposite. Another tidbit for me to cling to.

  The angel’s voice changed and then stopped. No, I cried out into the crevasse. Don’t stop. Please. I need to hear you. Don’t leave me in the dark with no sound.

  But then voices began again. Two this time. Distinctly different. My angel’s was harmonious. Lush. The other one fell deeper. Less enthralling.

  Words were announced which I could understand. “I’ve re-named John Doe here Harley…”

  Me? John Doe? Something about it sounded off, like it didn’t fit. But then was Harley any better? Maybe. I filed it away, clinging to further sounds.

  More words cut into my coffin of black. “Now you run along…I’ll keep an eye on the Greek god, here.”

  The deep voice. Footsteps? Was my angel leaving? Why? No. She couldn’t!

  Stay! Angel. Whoever you are. I’m begging you. I don’t want someone else. I want you. You sound nice. Soothing. I don’t like the new voice.

  Panic gave me the sensation of plummeting. Freefalling with no parachute. It was eerily quiet. No whooshing sounds rushing past me like there would be if I were jumping from a plane. No wind. Nothing. Just a feeling like my stomach had been left somewhere higher up.

  And then without warning, I jerked as if hitting the bottom. I was heavy. Dense. Aware of my arms and legs weighing me down. In fact, my whole body had turned to lead.

  Other sounds came to me. A beeping sound. Shuffling. Trying to move my limbs met with impenetrable resistance. Paralysis. My equilibrium had returned. With all the effort I could muster, I attempted to move a finger, but the weight of one digit equated to a gross ton.

  I felt more human than I had when I’d been floating. As if my body were real now and not a figment of my imagination.

  “Hello, Harley. I’m Karen. Boy, Mac sure is lucky having you as her patient. Damn. We haven’t had anyone as fine as you in a long time. If ever.” Karen loitered close by, her low voice increasing in volume. Did I know her? She called me Mac’s patient. Where had I fallen to? Another part of heaven? A hospital in the sky? Nothing rang true for me.

  “We get a lot of old men around here. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but you’ve brought with you a welcome change of scenery. Yes, indeed.”

  Trying to answer, I couldn’t speak. This alternate universe I found myself in began to frighten the hell out of me. How could I hear talking and the damn beeping sound, but my body wouldn’t move? My eyes were fused shut, and if I even had a mouth, it felt like a golf ball had lodged in the base of my throat.

  “You’ll really like Mac. She’s as sweet as they come. A darn good nurse too. If anyone can make you better, it’s her. She’s been with this hospital as long as I have. Five years. Mightn’t seem like much, but in this line of work, it’s a lifetime.”

  My ears pricked up at the name of my singing angel. She hadn’t left permanently. That meant she’d return.

  As much as I preferred Mac’s voice to Karen’s, just having someone speaking brought with it a certain level of comfort. To not be alone. For the next little while, I focused on words only, listening to idle chatter. It eventually tipped me back into obscurity.

  Chapter Four

  Mac

  After a marathon day at the hospital, I made it home around six p.m., thankful while on holidays, I’d prepared a few meals and stuck them in the freezer. It would merely be a matter of thawing and heating.

  After being on my feet for hours, I tossed my shoes aside at the front door of the apartment I shared with Nick.

  Harley flooded my mind. The mystery surrounding him made me want to find out about his life. Where did he live? What did he do for a living? Without any information I couldn’t do much. I hated not knowing all the facts. My nature was to help others, but how could you help someone who had no identity? A handsome guy with no ID? Who didn’t carry a cell or wallet? Had he been robbed before being shot? That made sense. Perhaps the assailants had needed drug money and taken anything they could find.

  No use mulling over it. When the guy woke up we’d know more.

  Nick’s motorbike had been parked in the visitor’s lot, not far from our garage, which he couldn’t use, as we only had space for my car. It wasn’t a meaty bike, but more of a scooter on steroids. An embarrassment really, but he believed in saving every buck wherever he could, including fuel costs. The thing ran on vapors.

  “Nick?” I called, noticing the living room empty.

  I didn’t expect him to be sitting idly, watching the television, or helping to do any of the chores, so I let my feet lead me toward our bedroom on auto-pilot.

  The door was wide open and sure enough, Nick had his back to me, hunched over his laptop.

  He barely even glanced up as I walked in and stood beside him. “Did you hear me come home?”

  “Hmm?” he asked, distracted by the flurry of numbers on his screen.

  Shaking my head, I turned around. “Never mind. Dinner will be ready in a bit. I’m going to shower and change.”

  He mumbled something and I left him to it, remembering Debbie’s words. You need to walk away, Mac.

  There had to be more to life, surely. More to a relationship. My boyfriend treated me as if I were invisible. Housemate would be a better term because that’s what we had become. Two ships passing in the night. Strangers living under the same roof who barely conversed anymore.

  I bet if Harley woke up, he’d have plenty to say. And there went my brain, thinking about him again. Mystery man. Spending the whole day singing and talking with a comatose male had been far more enjoyable than five minutes in Nick’s company. I really needed to reassess my life. Living alone would be no different than my current situation. I needed to take the plunge, comfortable or not.

  Pulling some sweatpants and a tank from my drawers, I eased into the bathroom, shutting the door on my mute boyfriend before turning up the heat to damn near scalding.

  Sheesh. When had we last gone out to dinner or watched a movie? Things that normal couples do. We may as well be living apart, because the distance between us at present measured larger than the Grand Canyon. He never asked about my day, and I’d given up long ago attempting to get more than a couple of grunts from him and a distracted sentence here and there.

  Speaking of distance, how long had it really been since we’d had sex? My calculation of two months could have been way shorter than reality. The last time I remember, it had been hurriedly over, early in the morning before Nick had to be at work. Did he not find me attractive anymore? And more to the point, did I not find him sexually attractive? We were into such a routine, I hadn’t sat down and thought about it too much until today.

  Ugh. My dry spell had escalated into a full-blown drought.

  Pouring some body wash onto a sponge, I slowly rubbed it over my skin, noticing when I got to my breasts that they began bristling, as if they’d been eavesdropping on my mind chatter and were giving me a huge hint. Hello, we’re still here and we’re not just for decoration!


  I couldn’t bring myself to become aroused thinking of Nick. The on switch to my libido wasn’t connected to his name anymore, so I tried something.

  Harley the hottie. Yep, that sent a zing of heat to my needy little pellets, and a rush of hormones directly south. Surely, I needed some intense therapy. Who grazed their peaks while fantasizing about a coma patient at work? Someone desperate and needy, that’s who. Me. At least I wouldn’t have far to walk should I need a straight- jacket. ICU to the psyche ward was only about four minutes by foot.

  My body wasn’t listening to logic, though. It had its own agenda, and that involved immediate release.

  Turning head on into the spray, I took a few deep breaths and dropped the sponge. As much as I needed the big O, I wasn’t going to allow myself to have one with my boyfriend in the other room and my mind conjuring up vivid images of a ripped, unconscious stranger.

  I would go to bed frustrated as punishment for even contemplating the idea. Shame on me.

  Switching the faucets off, I dried myself thoroughly and dressed in my sleeping clothes. In the bedroom, Nick hadn’t moved, so I poured myself a glass of wine and threw the frozen chicken casserole into the microwave to thaw.

  While I waited, my mind kept switching gears backwards and forwards to Harley. Picking up my laptop off the coffee table, knowing full well that doing a missing person search of our town would result in nothing, but my fingers were moving over the keys before I could rationalize the stupidity of it.

  I had nothing to go on. I keyed in Ann Arbor, male. Guessing his age, I’d say approximately 26–30 years old. A couple of hits came up, but weren’t connected. Both were teens from last year who had been on the news channels and in the papers. Turns out the teens had run away and were found six months later in Missouri.

  Damn. Dead end. I knew the search would be futile. The police would have already tried but something in me needed to find out how he had landed in my ICU room.

  If the police had fingerprinted him, maybe they could get a hit, but only if he were already in the system. And being a criminal already in the system would mean we would have already had several visits by the police. They’d turned up on the scene and then the next day, from what Debbie had told me, but apart from that, we’d heard nothing.

  “Hey. What are you doing? Is dinner ready?”

  I startled, not expecting Nick to appear.

  Closing my laptop, I rose and walked over to him, giving him a peck on the cheek. Very amicable and friendly, but nothing romantic. I should have been feeling more. I wanted to. Had we fallen so far into a rut that the spark had totally fizzled out? It would appear so. Nothing stirred in my belly. No flutter of nerves. No anticipation of great conversation and even greater sex later. Just nothing. I was officially frigid.

  Pulling back, he watched me in a way I hadn’t seen since we first began dating. Perhaps my obvious lack of affection had finally given him cause for concern. Had a light bulb gone off in his brain? Doubtful. Suspicion had me silently asking all sorts of questions.

  His eyes held mine for a beat before I had to look away. The sudden weirdness had me confused. If he thought he could simply show a shred of interest after all this time and I’d be all over him, he was mistaken. I didn’t operate like that. Resentment had formed a thin layer over my affections toward my boyfriend and he would need a chisel to make a crack.

  “I’ll put it on to heat. It’s only just thawed out. Do you want a glass of wine?” Pulling away had me breathing easier.

  “Sure.” Handing him my full one, I grabbed another for myself. I moved to the microwave, noting it was about finished defrosting.

  I didn’t hear him approach and nearly dropped my glass when I felt his arms slip around my waist and his nose nuzzle into my neck. Okay, what? Nick hadn’t instigated any form of affection for eons. Had he some strange connection to the thoughts I’d been having seconds ago? And should I be worried or happy? It was unusual for him to even make an appearance in the kitchen. How should I react? Nothing in me came to life. I was a statue.

  “Mmm. You smell nice,” he crooned. “Freshly showered.”

  My frozen libido for Nick didn’t bat her pretty eyes, but guilt bossed me around. It shouldn’t have, considering how little he ever paid attention to me, but it did. My nurturing nature and need to please won out. I gave without receiving. It’s how I rolled. Did I need to put more effort in? Probably. Did I want to? I wasn’t sure, but didn’t I owe the relationship one last chance before I bowed out? To know I had given my all. I shouldn’t dismiss it totally if Nick was going to begin trying. That’s what this was, surely. His attempt at trying. Shit. A thought slammed into me. Could he be having an affair? I’d heard of husbands suddenly being extra attentive when they were seeing someone else. They overcompensated at home so as not to raise suspicion.

  I questioned it. Nick having an affair? Nah. I laughed silently. When would he have the time?

  Leaning over to the island, I put my glass down before it fell to the floor and then I leaned back into my barely there boyfriend, attempting to feel something other than friendship.

  Wondering if I should say anything, my mouth opened before I could stop it. “What’s up? This is unlike you. I don’t mean anything bad by it, but it’s just…well, we don’t do this anymore.”

  He tensed beneath me but didn’t let go, resting his chin on my head. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so tied up at work lately. They’re pushing me to do overtime, which is what I brought home with me. It’s what I stay back for most nights.” He sighed. “I miss you. I miss us.”

  Turning in his arms, I looked up at him. The virtual stranger. His six foot stature towered over my five six. He was handsome in his own right. Sandy straight hair, perfectly brushed into a bankers comb-over. Adequate mouth with dappled freckles on both cheeks. Boyish quality to his face. His light blue eyes peered back at me with a mixture of regret and my own mirrored guilt.

  “We don’t do anything or go anywhere as a couple. I feel like we’re merely roomies.” Hearing it out loud drove home how bad things were.

  The microwave beeped, signaling dinner. It broke whatever rare moment we were having.

  “Let me make it up to you. You on early shift tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Finish at five. Why?”

  “Let’s eat out. Dinner at seven. Gandy Dancer restaurant? I know you love seafood.”

  My mood elevated at the thought of eating out for a change. “Really?”

  Was he really prepared to make the effort? After all this time? Maybe I underestimated him and he truly was snowed under with work and feeling guilty for not spending enough time with me. Benefit of the doubt and all that, right? If we began spending more time together, our feelings for each other would surely return to what they had been. Wouldn’t they?

  “Of course. Like you said, we don’t do it anymore. It’s time we started,” I conceded.

  I wasn’t sure what had overcome Nick, but I found myself accepting. “That sounds lovely. I’ll meet you there?”

  “Yeah. I’ll go straight from the office. You can finish and come home and change. That way I can still put in a little overtime and serve you at the same time.”

  Could we climb back up to where we were when we began dating? Things had been good for the first little while, and without either of us knowing it, life had wedged between us. A wide chasm didn’t mean a bridge couldn’t be constructed. As long as we began building from each side we could meet in the middle. I had felt love for him once. Could I find it buried beneath all the disappointment and frustration? Part of me wanted to believe. The other part already knew the truth.

  I grabbed two plates and loaded up our dishes with the chicken casserole, moving my glass of wine over to my seat at the table. For tonight anyway, we were a normal couple. At the very least we were eating in the same room.

  Chapter Five

  Harley

  Where had Mac gone? For hours, it felt like I was alone. No v
oices sang or spoke. On occasion a shuffling sound had me imagining a person nearby. Karen or someone different? I drifted on a cloud of obscurity, the laconic beep my only friend.

  I needed to see something other than darkness. With my eyes fused shut, it seemed impossible. I didn’t want to be in the void anymore. I had to find out what had happened to me. Whoever me was.

  Awareness flickered like a lone flame in a draft. The battle to remain conscious tested me, especially with little inspiration to remain that way. A huge block of time passed. At least, it felt like it. I couldn’t be sure…about anything. All I had were my thoughts. Nothing more. The rest of me ceased to exist as I floated again. Light and buoyant. The density gone. No body. No sensation. Eerie and yet all-consuming. An element of fear curtained my sentience. Would I be stuck here forever now? I likened it to drifting in the eternity of space with no destination.

  Then something happened. An intense pull. A vacuum dragging me on a precise path. Like before, I fell, only this time, faint sounds swirled around me. The faster I plunged, the louder the noise grew until unmistakably, I recognized it as talking again. A familiar quality. I honed in all my senses to the joyous sound. My insides sparked as if a match had struck flint. The distinctive voice of my angel had returned.

  Jerking to a stop didn’t bother me. Or the weight pressing in from all angles. All I could focus on was her.

  “Mac. Tell me about your evening.” It wasn’t Karen. Another stranger.

  “Actually, it was better than I anticipated. Nick and I had dinner together and talked. We have both been so busy, we’ve been neglecting each other. He’s even offered to take me to dinner tonight.”

  Nick? Why did the mention of his name make me a tight coil of irritation? Did she have a boyfriend? Husband? If her looks were anything like her voice, it would be a miracle if she were single. Did the guy appreciate what he had? Did he cherish her and shower her with affection? Give her flowers and take her dancing? Perhaps he did. A selfish part of me wished him to be an asshole. If she were mine, I would offer her the world.