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realized I was babbling and forced myself to slow down. “Aren’t the initials yours?”
    He looked uncomfortable. “I wish I could say.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Well…You’re going to think me out of my mind but…I don’t know what my name is. Ever since I awoke here my caregivers have been trying to pry that information out of me, but it’s no good. I told you the accident fogged my memory. It would be more accurate to say that it completely wiped it out. It’s as if my life was a blank sheet all the way up to the point where I found myself lying in the street.”
    I tried not to show my skepticism. “So you don’t remember a thing before the accident?”
    “I don’t even know how the accident happened. The first thing I remember is, well, you.” He gave the faintest of smiles as he added, “But that’s not such a bad memory to start off with, is it?”
    Why did such a direct statement, offered totally without nuance, set my stomach to doing flip-flops? The guy was feeding me a ridiculous story straight off an afternoon soap opera, and I was eating it up like candy just because he happened to have a gorgeous smile. Riiight. Time to get outta’ here . If I stayed another minute I might find myself actually believing in his supposed amnesia.
    “Um, you know what? I think I have to go. I just remembered something I have to do.” I made a pretense of checking my watch before scrambling a little too quickly out of my chair.
    “Ah, yes,” he said. “I understand. I’ve taken up too much of your time already.”
    He knows darn well I’m not swallowing his crappy story . Then how did he manage to look so sincere? For a second, he reminded me of a little boy who for all the world believed in the monsters in his closet.
    “Listen,” I said on my way to the door, “I hope everything works out all right for you and you get to feeling better soon.”
    “Oh, I feel very fit now. The doctor says I’ll be ready to go home in a day or two. Just as soon as I figure out where home is.”
    The uncertainty in his tone tugged at me and I paused in the doorway. Don’t be an idiot, Megan . Still, I found myself turning around and sighed. “You really don’t know who you are?” I asked, not bothering this time to hide my doubt.
    He shook his head.
    “And I guess that means you don’t know who your family is or how to get in touch with them?”
    Another negative. He looked genuinely unhappy with the answer, although whether it was for his own sake or because he could see I didn’t believe him, it was hard to say.
    Why was he putting on this act? He didn’t even know me. Why construct this insane lie? The guy was a jerk. I nodded, my mind made up. “All right then. Good luck to you.” If I sounded sarcastic he deserved it.
    I turned and ducked out the door before he could respond.
    On my way back to the elevator, I caught a nurse who was hurrying past. “Excuse me,” I said. “That patient in room three-eighteen, do you know what his name is?”
    “Three-eighteen?” The nurse laughed. “Oh, he’s our mystery man. Nobody knows who he is—except he seems convinced he’s somebody pretty important.”
    “Thanks.” I bit my lip. Maybe I’d been too hasty in disbelieving his story.
    As the nurse hurried off down the corridor, I was left alone with my nagging conscience.

Chapter 6

    I tried to dismiss the idea I’d been unfair to the guy I was beginning to think of as “Mystery Man.” But a vague sense of guilt hung over me for the rest of the morning and late into the afternoon. Finally, after a few hours of pounding the pavement and picking up job applications, I realized there was only one thing on my mind that took up equal space with the stranger. It was the dull ache of my empty stomach. I hadn’t had a bite since breakfast.
    Stopping by the same hotdog vender I visited every time I passed the park, I ordered my usual—two chili-cheese dogs, extra cheese, extra relish. Carlita would have