Point Blank

there are too many bumps.”
    “What do you own?”
    “A BMW—oh, nice how you did that—but I’m not sure, sorry. BMW popped into my mind, so maybe. I sure hope you find my car, whatever it is, soon. You can find out who I am in about two seconds flat.”
    “How?”
    “From the VIN, not to mention the license plate.”
    “Yes, that’s right,” he said. “I’ve got people out looking for your car. If the person who struck you tried to hide it, he’s in luck. With all this snow it could be well camouflaged.”
    She cleared her throat. “Seems like someone tried to obliterate me, and sort of has.”
    “You’ll be okay,” he said matter-of-factly. “But I am wondering how you got to my house.”
    “Maybe the woods were just handy?” She didn’t sound upset, and that was surely strange for a civilian. She sounded curious, not at all scared, like she had a problem to solve.
    “Or maybe you managed to walk into my woods.”
    “Who knows?” She laughed, actually laughed. “Here I am as useless as a lifeguard who can’t swim. What could I have been doing here to make someone go to all this trouble?”
    “I can see your eyes nearly crossing. Stop straining. Relax. Stuff is coming back really fast now. It won’t be much longer. Do you think your Beemer is one of those SUVs?”
    “It’s not an SUV, it’s an SAV. It’s not a pedestrian utility vehicle, it’s an activity vehicle.” She started laughing again. “Oh goodness, can you believe that?”
    “Dr. Crocker told me, probably told you, too, that bits and pieces of things may float back to you, but some big chunks might stay out of sight for a while. Like I said, stop straining. When we find your wuss SAV, maybe you’ll recognize it.”
    “Your wife must be a very tolerant woman.”
    “She was.”
    She didn’t say anything to that. Her head was pounding again. To her surprise, before she could say anything, the sheriff handed her a thermos. “You’re hurting. Take one of those pain pills they gave you.”
    She nodded, took two, drank them down with coffee, and leaned her head back against the seat. She heard the loud barking as soon as she opened the car door.
    “That’s Brewster. He’s quite a watchdog. Be careful he doesn’t pee on you.”
    Brewster didn’t pee on her, but within three minutes of her lying on the sofa, he was cuddled next to her, licking her chin. The sheriff pulled two handmade afghans over her. She wanted to sleep on this wonderful soft sofa for at least a day.
    She awoke when she heard the sheriff saying, “Keep it down, boys. We have a guest.”
    “The lady you found last night, Dad?”
    “Yeah, she’s going to be okay, but there are things she can’t remember yet, including who she is.”
    Dix saw she was awake and looking toward the doorway at the three of them. He introduced the boys to her again.
    “I made you the hot tea,” Rob said.
    “Yes, I remember. Thank you.”
    Dix said, “I don’t know what to call you.”
    “Hmm. How about Madonna?”
    Rob said, “You don’t have a space between your front teeth.”
    She brushed her tongue over her teeth. “Do you think you could pretend I did? Pretend I’m a blonde?”
    Rob said, “Madonna changes her hair color all the time, that’s no problem.”
    Rafer said, “Mom liked Madonna, said she was so loaded with imagination she’d just keep reinventing herself until she was eighty, maybe end up buying the State of Florida.”
    Unlike his brother, Rafe had light brown hair, and his father’s dark eyes, an odd combination that would slay girls when he was a bit older. Both he and his brother were skinny as rails right now, but when they reached their full size, they’d be big men, like their father. And their mother?
    “Okay,” Dix said, “Madonna it is. Rob, you want to make Madonna some more hot tea, maybe a couple slices of toast with butter and jam?”
    Rob looked at the woman lying on the couch. She looked really beat. “Sure, Dad.”
    There was a knock on the front door.
    Rafer took off to answer it, Brewster barking madly at his heels.
    It was Emory Cox, Dix’s chief deputy. “I’m here to get the photo, Sheriff. Hi, ma’am.”
    Dix introduced him. “Call her Madonna for the moment, Emory.” Emory took six Polaroid shots of Madonna, then Dix took him out of the living room, out of hearing.
    Rafe stood in the doorway, watching her. He opened his mouth, closed it. “Ah, do you know anything about the double helix,