John Steel Collection - Books 4-6

Chapter 8-2

“How’s he doing, Doc?” Steel asked, his gaze firmly resting on John Doe. Steel heard the door open behind him. But he didn’t turn as McCall entered the room and stood next to him.

“Well he has his muscle memory,” Davidson replied. The two detectives shot him a blank look. Davidson smiled and nodded as he realised what pleasure he would take when he explained.

“Muscle memory is something you do every day, for instance, signing your name, tying your shoelaces,” the doctor explained. “This man’s memory for those actions is intact. However, his long-term memory is gone, or at least hindered.” Davidson directed his lecture to Steel in particular, behaving almost like a teacher explaining something simple to a stupid child. Steel prodded the bridge of his sunglasses with his middle finger to adjust them and smiled, knowing full well what the doc was doing.

“So, what could cause this?” McCall asked. “A bump on the head?” She took a seat opposite John Doe.

“There are many possibilities. Head injury or a stroke, substance abuse, or the most likely thing, since we haven’t found any relevant injuries, is a massive emotional event. You know? Something like a serious car accident—that sort of thing.” Davidson smiled as he answered McCall’s question.

“Will he get his memory back?” Steel asked, his tone dry and distracted.

“Nobody knows. He could get it back in an hour, five days, a year, or never. It is a waiting game,” Colby Davidson said, shrugging. John Doe suddenly looked alarmed at the last part. Never getting his memory back. It was a lot to take in.

Never getting his memory backSteel nodded as if he understood, but his mind was elsewhere. He had questions of his own, such as: who was this man, and why was he covered in blood? Not forgetting, who the hell’s blood was it?

“OK. So, is there —” McCall froze in mid-sentence. She was about to ask if there was someone they could call, or if he needed dropping off somewhere. Her mouth slammed shut, and she gave John Doe an embarrassed smile.

“Don’t worry, Detective, this is a first for me as well,” John Doe said to her, smiling. Steel had left the room and was on his cell whilst they spoke.

“OK. So, we need to find you somewhere to stay. I will speak to my captain and try and arrange something.” McCall knew there was no budget for dealing with lost people who had amnesia but decided she could spin it as a ‘protective custody for a potential witness’.

“Don’t worry, I got it covered. I think he has been through enough, so I have got him a hotel room,” Steel said, with a broad grin on his face.

“OK, so where is the hotel?” McCall asked, suspicious of Steel’s intentions.

* * *

McCall’s mouth dropped open as they walked into the suite at the five-star Manhattan Hotel. There were panoramic views and marble bathrooms. The two-bedroom suite even had a small dining table. Sam shook her head at the sight of a hotel room that was bigger than her apartment and probably cost more to build.

“So – uhm, John, I hope you will be comfortable. There will be two policemen outside for your protection, so there is no reason to worry.” Steel smiled.

John Doe shot him a confused look. “Do I need protection?” he asked. His tone sounded almost angry at the thought of being watched. Steel smiled reassuringly.

“Sir, you were covered in blood, and you were not hurt,” Steel explained. “Which means that you either saw something you shouldn’t have—”

“—Or I did something I shouldn’t have done. In which case, this is my prison.” John Doe scowled at Steel, who nevertheless kept his smile. The British detective reached into the inside pocket of his jacket as his cell phone began to vibrate. He checked the message and smiled at the text from the desk sergeant.

The babysitters should be there now.

The babysitters should be there now.Steel sent a ‘thank you’ reply, then placed the phone back into his pocket.

“So, sleep well, and we will see you in the morning,” Sam McCall said reassuringly “Hopefully you may have remembered something by then.”

“I will come around tomorrow to check on him, detectives,” Dr Davidson, who had come with them, butted in. “I am sure you have other things to attend to,” Davidson said as he opened the refrigerator to check its contents.

“You take it, you buy it doc,” Steel said with a smile, as he saw Davidson take out a small bottle of sparkling wine. Davidson reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. “It’s OK, first one is on me,” Steel smirked before walking off. McCall rolled her eyes at the show of testosterone. McCall headed for the front door, where Steel was already waiting. Outside in the hallway stood two officers, who were dressed in plain clothes. Steel smiled as he recognised the two men. His previous encounters had left the guys unnerved, to say the least. One was tall and thin, the other shorter with greying hair and had a ‘veteran cop’ look about him. As the two officers saw Steel their mouths dropped open. They, too, had recognised him and instantly had a bad feeling.

“Gentlemen, the task is simple,” John Steel told them. “One man is to be on shift out here, while the other acts as back-up inside the room behind you. You work out the shift change between you, but someone is always out here. Nobody is to come in or out of that room except us and the good doctor there.” Steel opened the door so that they could see the tall strange-looking doctor in the grey suit. The two men nodded.

“Any questions?” Steel asked, almost trying not to grin at the confused look they both wore. The two officers shook their heads. Steel smiled and turned for the elevator.

“Right then, see you all tomorrow.” Steel said with a smile then checked his watch. McCall followed, leaving the two men to argue about who was going to take the first shift.

As Steel pressed the call button, he heard McCall approach. He could feel her almost agonizing need to get the millions of questions off her chest. The doors slid open, and they stepped inside. He just looked forward at the doors and towards the two cops in the distance. He looked contented as McCall stood patiently for the doors to close before she opened on him.

“Steel, just what the hell is going on?” she screamed as the doors closed, and the box began to move. He just smiled and took in the rant. She was pissed and had every reason to be. McCall regarded amnesiac John Doe as a victim, perhaps even a witness. But Steel saw something else. There was something about the man that set off every alarm bell in Steel’s head.