His eyebrows lifted.
“I know. I know. But I’m on a deadline. I can’t always control when the characters want to have conversations in my head. Why? Did he steal something?”
“No. How about here? This gives you a better look at his face.” The man was standing just outside our bookstore and peering into the window. He’d glanced up at one of the CCTV cameras.
There was something about his eyes that seemed familiar.
“Who is he?”
“We don’t know,” he said. “He’s now a John Doe at the hospital. He was hit by car a few days ago. The thing is, he isn’t able, or is refusing, to tell us who he is. But we have a lot of CCTV footage of him watching you and your sister.”
I shivered. “Do you think he’s my stalker from New York?” That was the first thing that flashed through my brain.
“He has an Irish accent. It could all be a coincidence, but I find it strange that he’s clearly been watching you and your sister.”
“Yeah, that’s not creepy at all.”
“It’s a lot to ask, but I wondered if you might come with me to the hospital.”
“You want me to confront a stalker?”
One of the reasons I’d left New York was because I no longer felt safe there. Someone kept entering my apartment and moving things around. And every time I went walking around the city, it felt like someone was watching me.
After I’d returned to Texas to bury our mother, and then Lizzie’s fiancé and his daughter, I had no desire to go back to Manhattan. And I thought we’d be safe here in Ireland, but we’d both felt like someone had been watching us since we’d arrived.
“We can make it so it isn’t face-to-face, if you prefer.”
“You’ve met me,” I said.
“Yes. Which was why I thought you might want to confront him yourself.”
He was right. If this was the man who had caused me so much trouble, I had more than a few words for him.
“Just me, though. I don’t want my sister involved. At least, let me see if I can figure out if he’s dangerous or not. When?”
“Do you have time now?”
My curiosity was at an all-time high. “Yes. Let me tell Lizzie I’m helping you with something. Give me a few minutes.”
When we arrived at the hospital, Kieran stopped in front of a door.
“Before we go in, how did he end up here?” I asked him.
“Sheila found him on the side of the road when she was coming back from Dublin. He’d been hit by a car. Broke his arm. She said he was out of sorts, as in he couldn’t remember who he was.”
“Like amnesia? That is highly unlikely.”
“So, you’re a doctor now?” He smiled when he said it.
“No. But I did a lot of research for one of my books. Amnesia isn’t very common.”
“He took a pretty big whack to the head. And she said it was more as if he was confused. Are you ready?”
I nodded. “Best to just rip the Band-Aid off.”
He pushed open the door. The room was empty. Kieran backed out and checked the room number again.
Then he frowned.