The Searcher by Simon Toyne Read Free Book Online

database.”
    He sounded vaguely disappointed and Solomon was too, a little. At least if he had been in it he would have more of an idea of who he was.
    The ambulance slowed, turned off the road, and pulled up in front of a large stone building. Gloria handed Solomon his shirt and moved with practiced speed, pushing past Morgan to the rear doors to throw them open in an explosion of sunlight and heat. She turned back and released the lock holding the gurney in place and the other medic appeared beside her, ready to pull Solomon out of the ambulance.
    â€œI can walk,” Solomon said, slipping his arms into the shirt.
    â€œYou can’t,” Gloria said. “It’s hospital policy. Sit back.”
    The driver tugged hard and the gurney slid out of the ambulance with Solomon still lying on it. The steel legs rattled as they unfolded and the sunlight made him screw his eyes shut. “I’m not hurt,” he said, squinting up at copper letters spelling out King Community Hospital across the facade of the building.
    â€œSir, you are injured and you have amnesia.”
    â€œHow was my PERLA test?” Solomon said, covering his eyes with his arm.
    â€œIt was . . . How did—have you had medical training?”
    â€œPossibly. My pupils are both equal and reactive to light?” They were certainly reacting to the light now.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen I don’t need to go to the hospital.” He reached forward to undo the straps holding his legs in place, swung his legs free and down to the ground. The moment his bare feet touched the ground he felt calmer.
    The driver moved forward and Solomon pulled the gurney between them and stepped out of reach. He wanted to run and get away from these people but he couldn’t. Not yet. Morgan climbed down from the ambulance, the jacket dangling from his hand, the book sticking out from the pocket. “Why don’t you just go with these people and let them run their tests,” he said. “Better safe than sorry.”
    Safe. Interesting word. Safe from who? Safe from what?
    â€œMy jacket,” Solomon said, holding his hand out.
    Morgan held it up. “You want this? Go with these people and you can—”
    Solomon darted forward, shoving the gurney at Morgan in a loud clatter that made him flinch. He instinctively reached out and the jacket swung close enough for Solomon to snatch it. He had moved away again before Morgan even realized what was happening.
    â€œI don’t need to go to the hospital,” Solomon repeated, slipping his arms into the jacket and backing away from the gurney, and the people, and whatever they wanted to do to him. “I need to go to the church.”

11
    M AYOR C ASSIDY CLOSED THE DOOR OF HIS STUDY, SHRUGGED OFF HIS jacket, and let it fall to the floor. He stood in the downdraft of the ceiling fan, pulling his string tie loose and undoing the top button of his shirt. His collar was soaked with sweat.
    The funeral had turned into a disaster, his big unifying gesture undone at a stroke by the whiff of wildfire. Everyone had drifted away before the ceremony had ended, a few at first, then a stampede as soon as the sounds of sirens had reached them and they’d seen how fast the smoke was rising and which way it was headed. They all had homes and businesses to worry about, so he couldn’t blame them, but it wasn’t exactly the gesture of community support he had hoped for. There was also the little matter of what might have started the fire, and he didn’t even want to think about that.
    His phone buzzed in his pocket and his heart clenched in his chest like a hand had taken hold of it and begun to squeeze. He looked down at the crumpled jacket, the black material shivering where the phone vibrated inside it like some large insect had crawled in there and was now trying to get out. There was a small hole in the fabricand the sight of it made him burn with anger. Damn moths, the