“I know,” Carol said. “But somehow that doesn’t make me feel a whole hell of a lot better.”
Hannaport squeezed her hand firmly and gently.
“This kind of amnesia is only very, very rarely permanent or even long-lasting. She’ll most likely remember who she is before dinnertime.”
“If she doesn’t?”
“Then the police will find out who she is, and the minute she hears her name, the mists will clear.”
“She wasn’t carrying any ID.”
“I know,” he said. “I’ve talked to the police.”
“So what happens if they can’t find out who she is?”
“They will.” He patted her hand one last time, then let go.
“I don’t see how you can be so sure.”
“Her parents will file a missing-persons report. They’ll have a photograph of her. When the police see the photograph, they’ll make a connection. It’ll be as simple as that.”
She frowned. “What if her parents don’t report her missing?”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
“Well, what if she’s a runaway from out of state? Even if her folks did file a missing-persons report back in her hometown, the police here wouldn’t necessarily be aware of it.”
“The last time I looked, runaway kids favored New York City, California, Florida—just about any place besides Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.”
“There’s always an exception to any rule.”
Hannaport laughed softly and shook his head. “If pessimism were a competitive sport, you’d win the world series.”
She blinked in surprise, then smiled. “I’m sorry. I guess I am being excessively gloomy.”
Glancing at his watch, getting up from his chair, he said, “Yes, I think you are. Especially considering how well the girl came through it all. It could have been a lot worse.”
Carol got to her feet, too. In a rush, the words falling over one another, she said, “I guess maybe the reason it bothers me so much is because I deal with disturbed children every day, and it’s my job to help them get well again, and that’s all I ever wanted to do since I was in high school—work with sick kids, be a healer—but now I’m responsible for all the pain this poor girl is going through.”
“You mustn’t feel that way. You didn’t intend to harm her.”
Carol nodded. “I know I’m not being entirely rational about the situation, but I can’t help feeling the way I feel.”
“I have some patients to see,” Hannaport said, glancing at his watch again. “But let me leave you with one thought that might help you handle this.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
“The girl suffered only minor physical injuries. I won’t say they were negligible injuries, but they were damned close to it. So you’ve got nothing to feel guilty about on that score. As for her amnesia… well, maybe the accident had nothing to do with it.”
“Nothing to do with it? But I assumed that when she hit her head on the car or on the pavement—”
“I’m sure you know a blow on the head isn’t the only cause of amnesia,” Dr. Hannaport said. “It’s not even the most common factor in such cases. Stress, emotional shock—they can result in loss of memory. In fact we don’t yet understand the human mind well enough to say for sure exactly what causes most cases of amnesia. As far as this girl is concerned, everything points to the conclusion that she was in her current state even before she stepped in front of your car.”
He emphasized each argument in favor of his theory by raising fingers on his right hand. “One: She wasn’t carrying any ID, Two: She was wandering around in the pouring rain without a coat or an umbrella, as if she was in a daze. Three: From what I understand, the witnesses say she was acting very strange before you ever came on the scene.” He waggled his three raised fingers. “Three very good reasons why you shouldn’t be so eager to blame yourself for the kid’s condition.”
“Maybe you’re right, but I still—”
“I am right,” he said. “There’s no maybe about it. Give yourself a break, Dr. Tracy.”
A woman with a sharp, nasal voice paged Dr. Hannaport on the hospital’s tinny public address system.