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remind her that remembering wouldn’t be a good idea.
    Alana shook her head. “I don’t know. Do you?”
    His head jerked back a little in a gesture of surprise. “Of course not. I told Jack everything that went on and everything you said to me.”
    She wasn’t so sure. “What else did I say?”
    “Some of it was rambling,” he readily answered. But he didn’t say anything for several moments. “I got the feeling you were withholding information, that you were in some kind of trouble. Were you?”
    Probably. But she kept that to herself.
    Alana went back through those memory gaps. If someone had indeed run her off the road, then something had happened to precipitate it. Maybe it was as simple as a case of road rage. Some hotheaded driver had cut her off and caused the accident.
    Yes, that was possible. Better than the alternative. But why hadn’t there been any sign of her slamming on the brakes? And what had she been doing in Willow Ridge?
    “When you were in labor, you mentioned an important meeting,” the doctor continued. He took her chart and jotted down something on it. He didn’t look at her. He kept his focus on whatever he was writing. “Guess you don’t remember that, either?”
    She didn’t, and even though Alana tried hard to recall any details about that, she drew a blank.
    “An important meeting,” Dr. Bartolo repeated. “Maybe it had something to do with your job?”
    This chat was making her more uncomfortable by the minute. She looked around in case she needed an escape route. But that wasn’t necessary. Jack came back through the door.
    Alana cursed the relief she felt at seeing him. For some reason, she trusted him. However, he didn’t extend much trust to her. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and stared at her. He didn’t sit or offer her any more pseudo sympathy.
    “You’re looking at me as if I’m crazy,” she said.
    “Sorry.” But he kept staring at her. “Do the names Ted Moore and Margaret Vargas ring any bells?”
    “No. Should they?”
    “Yeah.” He paused. A long time. “They should.”
    Mercy. Was this another blank spot in her memory? If so, it must be a critical one. “Do they have something to do with Joey?”
    “Not really.” Jack nodded at the doctor, a gesture the two of them must have understood, because the doctor excused himself and left the room.
    This conversation must be about to turn ugly.
    And then it hit her. A horrible thought. “Did the man in the alley go after Joey?”
    “No. Joey’s fine.”
    But she didn’t believe him. “I have to see him. I have to make sure he’s okay. And don’t remind me about this virus. I don’t have to get close to him to make sure he’s safe.”
    He clamped his hand on her arm when she tried to get up. “You aren’t going to see him, Alana.”
    Alana pushed his hand away. “You have no legal right to keep my son from me.”
    “Wanna bet?”
    She froze. Because that didn’t sound like an idle threat. “What does that mean?”
    “It means when you filled out the birth certificate, you listed me as the father.”
    Had she? Yes. She had. Why, though, she didn’t know. “But you’re not his father and a DNA test will prove that.”
    “Biologically, Joey’s not my son, but he is legally. When we couldn’t find you, I petitioned the courts for custody, and since your brother, Sean, was Joey’s next of kin, he agreed. He gave me sole guardianship.”
    She clenched her hands tightly. Alana didn’t doubt that Sean had done this. He’d never wanted her to have the baby. “Well, I can change that. I can petition the courts, too—”
    “No judge will give you custody, Alana.”
    Again, it wasn’t an empty threat. He had something to back it up. “Why not?”
    “Because you weren’t held captive. The guard and the nurse I mentioned. Ted Moore and Margaret Vargas. They’ve contacted law enforcement agencies to report your disappearance.”
    Alana shook her head. She didn’t understand.