In fact, her choices were extremely limited. Possibly even nil. She had amnesia, was hurt and didnt know where she could go to get out of danger. That didnt mean she trusted the three people whod just left the room. Or that she believed them. She was almost positive they hadnt told her the truth.
Its what you have to tell her, Agent Teresa Walters had said before they knew she was awake. People didnt usually make remarks like that if they planned to tell the truth.
The whole truth, anyway.
So just what did the others want Sanchez to keep from her? She certainly intended to find out.
Realizing that she had to go to the bathroom, Leigh tossed back the covers and swung her legs off the gurney. She was achy, and her vision was spotty. There was a thick white bandage completely encircling her right ankle, and when she stood, the stitches pinched.
She made use of a pair of green flip-flops that were under the gurney and went in search of the bathroom. It wasnt hard to find. It was the only door other than the one through which her fearless protectors had exited.
The bathroom was enormous and had two vats filled with dirty linen and hospital-style gowns. The laundry chute was as wide as the bins, indicating the need to send plenty of soiled clothing to the laundry room. A regular clinic probably wouldnt have such a need.
So just what was this place?
Since she hadnt heard any traffic or sounds normally associated with a clinic, it was probably some secured area. Perhaps a military installation or maybe a safe house used by the FBI.
Now, just what did the FBI and an ATF agent want with a bookstore employee from Austin? Perhaps the books in the store werent the run-of-the-mill variety. If so, she was obviously more than just a concerned citizen.
Leigh put that thought on the back burner when she noticed the mirror above the sink. She approached it cautiously, afraid of what she might see in her own reflection. And equally afraid of what she might not see.
Disappointment soon replaced the cautiousness. She didnt recognize a thing about herself. The face of a stranger stared back at her.
A troubled stranger.
Almost frantically, she studied her face harder, trying to force herself to see something familiar. She was pale and wondered if it was from the trauma or if that was her usual coloring. Perhaps a combination of both.
The skin surrounding the bandage was bruisedthe purplish stain bled down to her cheekbone where someone had obviously hit her pretty hard. A blunt object was her guess.
Her features werent prominent. Average. She certainly wasnt beautiful. Her hair was chin-length and cedar-colored, but since her roots were light brown, she figured that she wasnt a natural redhead. She checked in the most obvious place to verify her conclusion, stretching out the waist of the scrubs to look inside.
No. She wasnt a redhead.
She leaned closer to the mirror, suddenly puzzled by her eyes. They werent the same color. One was dark brown; the other, pale green. She automatically reached toward the brown eye and removed the colored contact that had camouflaged her iris. So, her eyes were really green, and since she could see perfectly without the contact, she had to believe shed worn them for cosmetic reasons.
Why?
Colored contacts. Dyed hair. Shed disguised her appearance. It made sense. Perhaps shed been hiding because someone wanted her dead. Too bad the disguise hadnt worked. Obviously, someone had seen right through it and gone after her.
Leigh noticed the scar then. A puckered dimple on her right forearm. It appeared to be well healed,
but she thought it might be a bullet wound. Or maybe her imagination was just working overtime. Just the sight of the injury, however, caused a sickening feeling in her stomach. It was yet another chilling reminder of her past she couldnt remember.
She finished up in the bathroom, returned to the room and got back on the gurney. A moment later, Gabe pushed opened the door and came in with a large disposable cup in each hand.
Coffee, he announced. I figured youd need your caffeine fix by now.
Leigh didnt know about that, but the steamy brew smelled wonderful. Im a big coffee drinker?
He nodded and glanced at one cup and then the other, apparently trying to decide which one was hers. He finally took a sip from one and grimaced. Yours. Three sugars, just the way you like it.
She took the cup, knowing she would indeed like it. Odd. Why had sugary coffee felt familiar and not her husband?
Her husband.
As shed done to her own face in the mirror, Leigh scrutinized his. Actually, he wasnt bad-looking. A little on the rough side, and the small scar on his chin only contributed to that image. His skin was a pale bronze, obviously a DNA contribution from the Hispanic heritage that his surname signified. The dark blue eyes, however, indicated some Anglo blood as well. All in all, it was a good mix that had produced an interesting face.
His eyes werenot bedroom eyes, even though it was the first description that sprang to mind. The dark lashes made them look half-closed, dreamy, but there was nothing bedroom about them. Those eyes meant business.