CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sunrays poured through the large windows of the suite of rooms that held John Doe. The luxury pad was high on the sixth floor. Steel had booked it, thinking it was safer than the usual kind of so-called ‘safe house’. John Doe sat watching a rerun of an old movie on the large flat-screen television. He was sitting in luxury, but his mind was in hell. He had no idea who he was, what sort of life he had had before today. But the most disturbing thing of all was, he didn’t know why he had been covered in blood, or even whose blood it had been.
So far, his only visitor had been Dr Davidson. He had been on a house call to check on John and to do some tests. The psychiatrist was still baffled by what had caused the amnesia. There was the head wound, certainly, but that didn’t
