The Deputy's Lost and Found Read Online Free PDF

around.
    “I think I’ll have a talk with Johnny Chino and see if he’ll come have a look at things,” Brady said after a moment. “It might help us to know what direction Lass came from before she ended up in the ditch.”
    Hank tossed him a skeptical glance. “Good luck. Johnny hasn’t done any tracking since—well, not for years.”
    Brady sighed. The Apache tracker was one of the best. But for a long time now the man had turned his back on a job that had once taken him all over the southwest. Brady didn’t exactly know what sort of personal demons thetracker was carrying around, but he figured working again would be the best way for Johnny to get rid of them.
    “He might do it for me. We’ve been friends since we were kids.”
    “Like I said, good luck,” Hank muttered.
     
    She was running through inky darkness. Stumbling over rocks and fallen branches. Her breaths were gasps of fire, burning her lungs and stabbing her chest with searing pain. Somewhere, far in front of her, she would find light and safety. If only she could keep running. If only…
    “Lass? It’s Dr. Donovan. Wake up and talk with me.”
    The firm voice penetrated the dark terror around her and Lass jerked awake with a jolt to see Deputy Donovan’s sister standing next to her bed.
    “Oh! It’s you, Doctor.” Shoving a handful of disheveled hair off her face, Lass eased to a sitting position in the bed and blinked her eyes. Her whole body felt damp and her heart was pounding with lingering fear. “I guess I dozed off. I must have been dreaming or maybe I was trying to remember—I don’t know.”
    The redheaded doctor studied her closely. “Do you remember your dream?”
    Nodding, Lass shivered. “I was running in the dark. Away from something. And I was terrified. That’s all I know.”
    The doctor pulled out a pin light and flashed it in both of Lass’s eyes. “Mmm. That’s a common nightmare. It could be a result of the trauma you’ve gone through or you could be remembering something that happened. Hard to say. In any case, I’m happy to report that your scans have been read and there are no fractures to your skull or any other major brain damage. You have a garden variety concussion and it should go away in the next few days. Andit’s a positive sign to see that your short-term memory is working. You obviously remember that I’m your doctor and you remembered your dream.”
    The doctor put the pin light away and placed a stethoscope to Lass’s chest. Once she’d listened to her satisfaction, then hung the instrument back around her neck, Lass asked, “What about the rest of my memory? I keep working my mind, trying to think past last night. I can’t.”
    The doctor gently patted her shoulder. “I’m hopeful that once the swelling in your brain starts to recede and everything begins to heal itself, your memory will return. But in the meantime, I’m going to have a specialist come in this afternoon and speak with you.”
    “A specialist?” Lass asked warily. “What kind of specialist?”
    Dr. Donovan’s smile was meant to be reassuring. “A psychiatrist.”
    Lass stared at her in horror. “Do you…think I’m crazy? Oh, God, I never thought about that! I might have been institutionalized and wandered away. Maybe I hurt someone and they put me away! I—”
    With each word that passed her lips, Lass grew more and more agitated.
    “Lass,” the doctor said gently. “You need to stop this. I can assure you that no one here has detected any sort of mental illness. The psychiatrist will simply talk to you and perhaps help coax some of your memories to return. That’s all.”
    Lass’s shoulders slumped with relief. She didn’t know why her thoughts kept running toward such negative speculations. Had she been in some sort of trouble? Criminal trouble?
    What a stupid question, Lass. Trouble might as well be written across your forehead. Anyone who’s found on theside of the road with a head bashed is bound to