A Forever Christmas(32)
“Like her name, rank and serial number?” Gabe guessed, clearly frustrated by the negative answer he had to give her. “No.”
“You know, when this thing finally comes back from the dead—” she delivered less than a gentle tap to the side of the computer “—we could try taking Angel’s fingerprints and see if we can come up with a name that way.”
He was less than pleased about the implication behind his sister’s suggestion. “You mean see if she has a criminal record?”
Alma looked more closely at her brother as she said, “No, I was thinking more along the lines of a driver’s license, but hey, if you think there’s a criminal record out there with her picture on it—”
“I don’t,” he snapped, cutting her off before she could continue down this path.
“Okay, then we’ll look through the state’s DMV records,” she said, keeping her voice low-keyed. “Or maybe we’ll get lucky and find out that our mystery woman works for the government, or that she served in the armed forces or the reserves at one point.” She flashed her brother an encouraging smile. “It’s going to take a while,” she predicted. “But we’ll find out who she is.”
“She may not want us to find out who she is.”
The latter speculation had come from Joe Lone Wolf. The deputy had apparently slipped soundlessly into the seat behind his desk while she and Gabe were discussing the best way to find out Angel’s real name.
Caught off guard, Alma’s hand instantly covered her heart as if to keep it from jumping out of her chest. “You know, you could try making a little noise once in a while, Joe,” Alma complained. “Let people know that you’re there.”
His expression remained exactly the same as he said, “I thought I just was.”
“I think I’m going to tie a bell around your neck,” Alma threatened.
But Gabe’s mind was on what Joe had said last. “Why wouldn’t she want us to know who she was?” Gabe asked.
“A lot of reasons to try to lose yourself,” the deputy answered matter-of-factly. In the world he came from—the reservation where he’d spent the formative years of his life—there’d been a lot of people who preferred making their way through life unnoticed. “Maybe she did something and she’s on the run.”
“I don’t think—” Gabe began, ready to defend the woman.
“Not exactly hard, faking amnesia,” Joe pointed out, cutting Gabe off. “There’re no scientific tests around to use in order to prove that a person does, or doesn’t, have amnesia.”
“She’s not faking it,” Gabe insisted.
“And you know this how?” Joe challenged, willing to be convinced.
To back up his point, Gabe told them what happened last night. “She had a nightmare and she woke up screaming. There was this terrified look in her eyes.” Gabe paused, knowing that he couldn’t find the right words to express the feeling he’d had when he’d looked into her eyes. He knew she was on the level. Nothing could convince him that she wasn’t.
“You had to have been there,” he finally conceded with a sigh. “But I’d bet a month’s salary that she’s on the level.”
“Last of the big-time spenders,” Alma quipped affectionately. When her brother rose to his feet, Alma put her hand out to keep him where he was. “Relax, Gabe, I believe you.” She looked at Joe pointedly. “So does Joe.”
“Yeah,” Joe chimed in after a beat. He’d sounded more convincing this time, but then there was never a great deal of feeling infused in Joe’s tone, so Gabe let it slide. He didn’t feel like getting into an extended, heated argument about that now.
“So what are you going to do if Angel doesn’t remember anything more than how to deftly handle a frying pan?” Alma asked her brother.
He looked surprised at the question. “Me?” he asked. “Why me?”
Alma looked at him. “Because you seem to have appointed yourself her guardian angel, taking her under your wing so to speak.” Light chocolate-colored eyes met dark. “Taking her home,” Alma added, lowering her voice but keeping just the tiniest hint of emphasis evident in her tone.
Gabe knew damn well where his sister was trying to go with this. She thought he saw a substitute for Erica in Angel. She couldn’t have been more wrong.