Deaths Excellent Vacation

amnesia and author of Still Here But Not Sure , an exposé on amnesia that argues memory loss is actually quite common.” The camera panned to a tall, thin man in a suit with a blood-red tie. “Doctor, from what you’ve heard, is it possible that Jason Kirk could have suffered an injury that blocked his memory?”
    “It certainly can’t be discounted as a possibility. If he was intoxicated and suffered a blow to the head, he might not know at all where he was, who he was.” Bayless had a breathy voice that reminded Nora of the soft hiss a radio made, not quite tuned to a station.
    “How long could the amnesia last?”
    “Anywhere from minutes to hours to weeks,” Dr. Bayless said, as though giving Nora a gift.
    “We know his torn shirt was found on the beach. He might have been attacked. Describe to me and our viewers what kind of injury could induce amnesia.”
    “Well, there are several, and as I point out in my book, just out last week, amnesia is far more common or likely than we know . . .”
    Nora saw Molly waving frantically at her, the cut sign. Molly had never gestured so wildly during a broadcast.
    “We have a breaking situation, ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be right back.”
    “Um, will I get to mention my book again?” Dr. Bayless asked.
    Molly ignored him and looked stricken. “Annie Van Dorn is on the line. She said Jason Kirk is standing in her backyard again.”
     
     
    THEY rushed to the cars, drove the fifteen minutes to Annie’s side of the island, Nora swearing at Molly: “Don’t call the police, let us handle this, don’t call. No one gets there before we do. If it’s him, we have to get him on tape.”
    “I’m not calling, I’m staying on the line with Annie, but the Kirks will call Peert . . .”
    Nora cursed. She’d forgotten about the Kirks. Oh well, but the police might well bundle up Jason and haul him off to the hospital. Surely not before the happy reunion. A strange flood of emotion coursed through Nora: anticipation of the greatest story in her career, and a sincere relief that he was okay. That a story of hers could have a happy ending. It was so rare.
    “Uh-huh, Annie, yes, I’m here,” Molly said. The cameraman drove like a maniac, blasting through a red light at the edge of town, barreling the car into the blackness. No streetlights out beyond the tourist zones; Sint Pieter suddenly felt to Nora like a much more ancient, lost world, a back corner of reality. The only light was the wash of the headlights of the Kirks’ car behind them.
    “Is he still there?” Nora screeched.
    “Yes, well . . .” Molly started, and Nora seized the phone.
    “Annie? This is Nora Dare.”
    “Yes.” Annie sounded frightened. Eight minutes had passed since her phone call.
    “Is Jason still in your yard?”
    “Yes. Standing by the trees. I’m not sure he knows I saw him. My outside light’s off. But I saw him, in the moonlight, I can tell it’s him again. What should I do?”
    “Leave the lights off; I don’t want the neighbor’s dog to frighten him off again. He may not be well. He might be confused. Don’t approach him.”
    “I’m afraid,” Annie said. Her voice—calm and sturdy in the first interview—seemed to fold and crumple. “My sister’s not here. I’m alone.”
    “We’ll be there in just a few minutes.”
    “I’m going to hang up and call the police,” Annie said.
    “No, sweetheart, stay on the phone with me,” Nora said. A dread touched her heart. “We’re handling calling the police, okay? We’ll be there in just a few minutes.” Then she added: “You don’t happen to have a camera, do you? I suppose the flash might send him running if he’s panicked . . .”
    Annie gave off a choked sob. “I’m afraid of him.”
    “We’ll cut off our lights before we get there so he doesn’t run,” Nora said.
    Annie made a soft little whispery mewl. “He is walking toward the house. Slowly.” Annie’s voice cracked with anxiety. “Oh my God, he’s coming here.”
    “Annie. Don’t scare him.”
    “Don’t scare him ?” Annie said. “Why is he here?”
    “Annie,” Nora said, and she said this with the firmness of tone that made her a star, “Don’t let him see you’re frightened. He has to be reassured so he doesn’t run again. You’re going to be a hero, Annie, to his family, to Sint Pieter.”
    “He’s at the door,” Annie said, and she didn’t sound afraid anymore. More just surprised. “He’s just standing at the