Thank God.
Ryan was waiting for her in the reception area when she reemerged from the dressing room. His head was down, his fingers rubbing his temples. Tension surrounded him. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she walked across the room. He hadn’t looked that worried before she’d gone in.
“Ryan?”
When he glanced up, those worry lines faded from his handsome face. A forced smile curved his mouth, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Done?”
“Yeah. Dr. Murphy said to come back in an hour.”
He rose. “Let’s get something to eat while we wait.” With a hand at the small of her back, he urged her toward the elevator.
Kate settled into the dimly lit booth in the pub a block from the hospital. After their orders were taken, she said, “What did you find out?”
He draped an arm over the back of the booth and tapped a straw against the wooden table. “Nothing.”
He was lying. She could feel it. “Come on, Ryan. Don’t hold out on me.”
“How do you feel about a vacation? We take the kids and go off somewhere for a while, use the time to let Reed and Julia get to know each other. Beach or mountains, your pick.”
“Mitch told me you never take vacations, Mr. Harrison. You’re starting to worry me. What’s going on?”
As he glanced around the bar as if to see who was listening, her gaze followed. A bartender worked the long, mahogany bar. Two patrons sat on barstools at its sleek surface. A few tables throughout the space were occupied by tourists.
She looked back at him. “Ryan, what aren’t you telling me?”
He finally fished out the torn slip of paper from his pocket they’d taken from Janet Kelly’s house earlier that morning and passed it to her. “Each of the people crossed out are dead.”
“What?”
He looked pained when he pointed at the names on the list. “Heart attack, car accident, drowning. One even died of a drug overdose just a few days ago. No indication of foul play in any of the incidents.”
Four names were still uncrossed, including hers. “What about the others?”
“The top two I couldn’t find, or there was no answer. The last one before yours, Kari Adams—it’s a common enough name. I didn’t have time to go through the phonebook for her.”
Kate’s brow creased. Why was that name so familiar?
Their food was served, and she set the paper on the table next to her beer, though the last thing she felt like doing was eating.
Ryan squeezed her hand. The casual connection sent a tingle of awareness over her skin. But when she looked up, she saw the worry in his eyes. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said gently. “It could just be a coincidence.”
“You don’t believe that. I can see it on your face. You think those people may have been at the nursing home too, don’t you?”
He sat back, trying to look shocked, not doing a very good job of it. “Where’d you get that idea?”
“I’m not a moron. I know pharmaceuticals are a billion-dollar industry. Do you think Jake was doing his own research? Testing it himself? Hoping to push it through for FDA approval?”
“It’s a theory.”
She glanced down at the paper again. “And you think these people were test subjects. That Janet Kelly knew about them, knew about what was happening.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. It doesn’t explain why they’re dead now, though.”
“It does if someone’s trying to cover up the evidence. What he was doing was illegal, right?”
He blew out a breath. “Yeah.”
“And until I showed up here, no one really knew anything about this.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Her gaze locked with his. “But you’re thinking it.”
“I think I’m hungry. And it’s been a long day. And you need to eat so we can get back over to the hospital and find out about your test.”
She eyed her plate. Why had she ever thought finding the answers would make a difference? Now all she wanted to do was turn back the clock, forget about what had already happened.
Ryan’s hand closed over hers again. “Babe, don’t,” he said softly. “Let’s just take this one step at a time, okay?”
With a nod she picked up a french fry and swallowed back the fear as she tried to eat.
Kate crossed her arms over her chest and stared out at the buildings from Dr. Murphy’s office. Afternoon sunlight glinted off wood and stone. Ryan sat in a chair near the doctor’s oak desk, waiting. She could all but feel the stress and worry seeping from him, recognized it in her too. Patience had never been her strongest attribute, and it seemed like the past few days, waiting was all she’d done.
Ryan stood when the doctor entered and shook his hand. Kate joined him at the desk.
“Well,” Dr. Murphy said. “Let me start by saying we got all the images we needed.” He pulled up her brain scan on the computer and swiveled the screen so they could see.
He tapped the screen. “This is the area we’re most concerned with. It appears the injury happened to this section of the brain, where memory and personality are developed. My guess is a hematoma of some sort, judging by the craniotomy incision along your scalp, Kate.”
“Not a tumor?” Ryan asked.
“No. No indication of one. There’s definite damage to the skull, which indicates an accident or trauma of some kind.”
That didn’t make sense. Kate rubbed her scar. Why would she have been given a cancer drug if she’d never had cancer in the first place?
“The memory loss is a tough one,” Dr. Murphy went on. “This portion of the brain deals with memory, so if she suffered a major impact, it’s possible that might be responsible for her amnesia now. However, most retrograde amnesiacs remember something, however trivial, from their childhood. Amnesia tends to be concentrated around the time of accident, sometimes erasing whole years of memories, but rarely an entire lifetime. Kate’s case is pretty unique.”
“What about the drug?” Ryan asked. He and Dr. Murphy had discussed her situation earlier, and Ryan had given him a copy of the chart they’d found at the nursing home.
“Well, as you know, I can’t speak about that until we know more. Tabofren was never studied in a clinical setting in the U.S. I do remember reading something about a similar drug a while back in a medical journal—some study going on up in Canada—but I can’t remember the specifics. In any case, it’s possible if it was being administered while she was in a coma, it might have amplified her memory loss from the accident.”
Dr. Murphy flipped through her chart. “It looks like you weren’t given Tabofren for at least six months after the accident.”
“I was pregnant.”
“At least someone had the good sense not to give it to you during a pregnancy,” the doctor said. “There’s no telling what an experimental drug like that would have done to a fetus. Your child doesn’t show any symptoms?”
“No.”
“I’d like to have Reed tested, just to be safe,” Ryan cut in, glancing at Kate. When she nodded, he looked back at the doctor. “What are the chances she’ll get her memory back?”
“At this point? I wouldn’t count on it. It’s been almost two years, and she hasn’t remembered anything yet. You’ve been back in San Francisco, what, a month, Kate?”
“Yes, about.”
“And in that time, any memories?”
There were feelings. Mostly déjà vu feelings, but those weren’t memories. She shook her head.
Dr. Murphy nodded. “Sometimes memories are triggered by familiar faces and locations. If that hasn’t happened yet, I’m not overly optimistic it’s going to.”
That wasn’t a surprise to Kate. She hadn’t expected to remember anything. One look at Ryan, though, and she saw he’d been hoping for different news.