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    Amnesia
    Amnesia
    Amnesia
    Ebook140 pages1 hour

    Amnesia

    By Heather Mace

    ()

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    About this ebook

    After becoming too involved in a recent homicide investigation, Officer Monica Martinez is trying to toe the line for the sake of her career. Detectives Glade and Sherman are investigating an intriguing homicide case involving a woman who claims to have amnesia, making it unclear if she is a victim or the perpetrator. Can Martinez control her curiosity, and keep out of trouble while the detectives attempt to solve the mystery?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHeather Mace
    Release dateNov 16, 2016
    ISBN9781370874750
    Amnesia
    Author

    Heather Mace

    I started writing in my early teens because I had already read all of the YA fiction that interested me. (This was way back in the dark ages before the likes of Harry Potter.) I wrote not about the things I had done, but about the things I wanted to do. I got older, experienced more life, and discovered a world of fiction written for adults. Even though my desire to read was being fulfilled, I never lost the desire to write. I eventually went to college and got a Bachelors degree in psychology. I have always been fascinated by human behavior and was pleased to be able to indulge that fascination until it resulted in a degree. No matter what I have learned, what I have done, or where life has taken me, I have always returned to writing. As I looked back on this decades long hobby, I asked myself why I was still waiting to publish my work. So, here I am. I hope you find something in my stories that you enjoy!

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      Book preview

      Amnesia - Heather Mace

      Amnesia

      By Heather Mace

      Copyright 2016 Heather Mace

      Smashwords Edition

      Licensing Notes

      Smashwords Edition

      Thank you for downloading this ebook.

      This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer.

      Thank you for your support.

      This is a work of fiction.

      Characters, places, and events in this story are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

      Contents

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      About the Author

      Other Titles by Heather Mace

      Connect with Heather Mace

      1

      She became conscious, but she did not move a muscle. She kept her eyes closed, and concentrated on her breathing. In, out, steady, slow. The rhythm was unchanged despite her overwhelming desire to take a deep, cleansing breath.

      She honed in on the best sense she had available. She identified and catalogued the noises surrounding her. The low hum of an air conditioner was layered over the top of traffic sounds; brakes, engines, a motorcycle idling. The traffic was somewhat distant as if she were inside a building with an open window.

      The surface beneath her body was soft. It felt somewhat more confined than a bed. A couch perhaps. There was something at her back. Not enough of that something was in contact with her body for her to make a complete determination. Her hands were curled into fists, but she did not dare move them in an effort to better explore her surroundings.

      She did not feel as though she were confined, or restrained in any way. And she could not sense anyone near her, nor hear another person breathing. Without opening her eyes, she allowed herself the deep breath her lungs had been begging for. Another sense awakened, and the scent was unmistakable.

      It took every bit of self-control that she possessed, not to let her eyes fly open and search the room for the source of the blood that now lingered in her nostrils. She settled back into what she hoped would appear to be a deeper sleep, turning her head so that her face was closer to the surface beneath her. After at least a minute had passed, she let her eyelids part just enough to see the space in front of her.

      In the light streaming through the open window, she could see the area in front of her face. She easily made out the form of a coffee table, giving validity to the thought that she might be on a couch. To the right, toward her feet, was a chair. Ahead of her, beyond the table, was a television.

      Seeing no one else in the room with her, she allowed her eyes to open a little more. She moved them back and forth, surveying the area, looking for any potential trouble, and searching for the blood that she could smell. The only new detail she took in was the swirls of dust catching the sunlight that beamed onto the floor in front of the television.

      In one swift movement, she was up off the couch with her back to the television. She was up on the balls of her feet, with her knees bent, and her hands in a defensive position. There wasn’t another living soul in the room with her. There was, however, a dead body lying behind the couch in a pool of partially congealed blood.

      2

      Her first instinct was to flee.

      She glanced down at her hands, her clothing, and her shoes. She had no injuries of her own, and could see no blood on herself from the victim. She took in the rest of her surroundings. To her right, in the direction her head had been pointing on the couch, was a small, galley style kitchen. She moved to look around the pass-through bar.

      She found no one there either alive or dead. She curled her hands into fists and moved toward the door that presumably led to a bedroom. She used her knuckles to bump the door open. Touching nothing with her fingers, she continued her search, checking the bathroom and a small closet.

      Everything else about the small apartment seemed untouched. There was no blood, other than the pool under the body, and no signs that any kind of struggle had taken place. She stepped back out into the main living area and glanced down at the deceased.

      The body was that of a male of average height, with a slim build, and dark, short hair, approximately in his mid-thirties. He had a knife wound around half of his throat that had bled a small amount. But it clearly was not what had killed him. There had to be another, larger wound.

      She bent for a closer look and felt her eyes roll back into her head. She stopped herself from falling forward by planting a fist on the back of the couch. She reached up with her other hand and clutched her throbbing head. Her hand came away sticky with what she thought must be her own blood.

      She hurried back into the bathroom and hit the light switch with her elbow. She noticed a bruise blooming over her right cheekbone. She turned her head and could see blood caked in her hair on the right above her ear. She went back to the couch and could see no signs of her blood on the fabric.

      Everything in her was telling her to run. She glanced at the front door. She had no idea where she was. She didn’t know if the apartment opened to a courtyard, a hallway, or a private entrance. She felt trapped, and her blood pressure had gone up. She was getting dizzy again. She was losing control of her body and mind. She had to get out.

      She patted herself down and found that while she had a small mobile flip phone, she had no keys, no wallet, and nothing else whatsoever that could be of any use to her. She stuck the phone back in the pocket of her blue jeans, and went to the door. She looked through the peephole. It was a hallway. There was another door diagonally across from the apartment she was in.

      Using her shirt, she turned the unlocked knob and pulled the door back just enough to see that the hallway was empty. She stepped out as quietly as she could and, using the hem of her shirt again, pulled the door closed behind her. There was a stairwell, marked with an exit sign, at either end of the hallway. She shoved her hands in her pockets and turned to the right. She had taken no more than two steps when a door, two apartments down, started to open.

      She immediately put her head down, turned, and walked in the other direction. It was farther to the exit on her left. She could hear the sound of keys, as the tenant behind her was locking their door. Her head swam as she picked up the pace. She tried to take in a deep breath to steady herself. Her ribs ached. Her head throbbed. She felt herself going down and knew that there was nothing she could do to stop it from happening.

      The world went black as she hit the ground.

      3

      There was something beeping, and voices talking all at the same time. There were sounds of metal on metal, and cartwheels rolling across the floor. There were hands touching her, moving her. There was no reason to feign sleep. There was no reason to remain still and get a feel for her surroundings. She knew exactly where she was. If the sounds hadn’t given it away, the smell would have.

      She opened her eyes and someone immediately shined a penlight in them. She winced and pulled her head back.

      Pupils equal and reactive, the man said. Ma’am, do you know where you are?

      Smells like a hospital, she croaked out.

      He smiled and moved out of her view. The bed started moving.

      Another face came into view. You’ve sustained a head injury. You were unconscious. We’re taking you for a CT. The rails were pulled up on either side of her.

      She didn’t want a CT. She needed to leave. She tried to sit up.

      The first man and another nurse pushed her back down on the bed. Relax, honey, the female nurse said.

      Can you tell me your name? Someone asked.

      She looked from face to face trying to determine who was speaking to her. There were a lot of faces; doctors, nurses, techs, and trailing along at the end of the parade, a uniformed police officer.

      Can you tell me what year it is?

      Her BP’s elevating, someone warned.

      It’s okay, the nurse patted her shoulder. We’ll talk later, he smiled gently.

      She nodded, and let herself sink back onto the bed. There was no point in fighting them. She was dizzy. She felt weak. She would have to start her battle from a prone position. And if she made it past the

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