The Doe Identity

3 - Once Upon a Time in Casa Nova

"What do you mean you won't take us there?" I struggled to keep my annoyance out of my voice.

Since I didn't have any surgeries scheduled for the day (bizarre, I knew), I took it as a sign from above that I should use my day off to help John find who he was. I thought the first step, visiting the accident site, would be a piece of cake, but it appeared I was wrong. I had called five cabs so far, and the cabbies' answers were always the same: they couldn't—or this time, wouldn't—take us to the Hill.

"The place is haunted, Ma'am," the bald man answered, drawing a gasp of shock from me.

Did he just call me old? I'm not even thirty yet!

As I glanced at my reflection in the cab's side mirror, the spirit beside me asked, "We're going to a haunted place? Why?"

"Only crazy people go there," the cabbie added, "and I don't deal with crazy people." The man hit the gas and sped off.

I planted my balled fists on my hips, restraining myself from throwing my sneakers at him. "I can't believe he just called me old and crazy. Some people really need to learn some manners," I huffed. "Do I really look that old?"

"Don't worry, Doc. You don't look a day over eighteen," John replied.

Handsome and a smooth talker. He must be popular with the ladies.

"I guess we'll have to walk there." I blew out a determined breath. "Go on. Lead the way."

"Are you sure? It's quite far from here."

"What other choice do we have?"

"Alright." He shrugged and started walking toward the hospital gate. "So why are we going to a haunted place again?"

"We're going there to try to jog your memory. Patients suffering from amnesia usually find seeing familiar places or things helpful. You know, like in all those movies where people go to the place where they lost their memory and get memory flashes . . . or something like that."

The plan sounded stupid, but I couldn't think of anything else. According to Nurse Jackson in the ED, the police had confiscated all of John's belongings, which weren't a lot. Sneaking into a police office wasn't something I wanted to do in my free time—at least not anymore—so I decided to try a different, safer approach.

"But the cab driver just said the place is haunted. Are you sure you want to go there?" John insisted.

"Well, I am talking to a spirit right now, so what's a couple more, right?"

A sheepish smile spread across his face. "Right. Sorry, I'm still getting used to this whole ghosting thing."

I chuckled. "Don't worry. It happens—"

"Alexis?"

My breath hitched when I heard the deep, husky voice calling me from behind. Earvin Cooper—Claire's boyfriend—waved at me from the hospital's entrance, a ready smile on his fresh face. The thought of getting caught talking to air sent a shiver of anxiety through me.

Calm down, Alexis. He probably didn't see anything. Just act normal. Act. Normal.

"Vin, hi!" As I approached Vin with (what I hoped was) a friendly smile, he moved to meet me halfway.

The six-foot-four, muscular man walked with an unusual shuffle; his right leg lagged behind the left a little, his movements careful. Although he was one of the most stylish men in town, today he traded his signature, form-fitting joggers with a pair of baggy sweatpants, most probably because of the wound on his leg.