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“How is that possible?” Rask turned to look at the doctor. “How is this possible?”
“Amnesia for the events at and preceding a head injury with loss of consciousness is very common,” she said. “It’s possible memory will return, but probably it won’t.”
“You said there was no demonstrable injury to his brain.”
“That means nothing.”
Rask spun around to face me. I lifted my right hand and then let it fall back on the bed because I couldn’t lift my left.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Yeah,” Rask said. “So am I.”
“Do you have anything yet?”
“We have the credit card number used to reserve the two rooms,” Rask said. “It was stolen. We have security footage of the young man who registered. He made the reservations late Thursday afternoon during the blizzard. We’re attempting to match his face to the mug shots in our database. No hits so far, and truth be told, we’re not likely to get any. I’ll get you a photograph later. You said you never saw any of the artnappers, but who knows? We have video of what we believe to be the SUV that the artnappers drove in and out of the parking lot. It matches the SUV we saw in the footage taken at the museum when the Lily was stolen—I have a car guy who claims it’s a Toyota RAV4. Unfortunately, we can’t read the plates. What else? Forensics is trying to put the bomb back together, find out where the explosive came from, see if we can read the signature of the bomber—we might get something there, but it’ll probably take a while. The thieves just made a big score, and they’re likely to celebrate. We have people checking strip joints, casinos—the big-buck clubs. All of our undercover guys have been briefed—they have their ears open, and of course, we’re leaning on all of our CIs. The money was marked—the thieves have to know that, so they might try to launder it. We’re watching everyone we know who is available to do that sort of thing. We’ve also alerted Homeland Security in case they try to smuggle the cash out of town by plane or train. Nothing so far.”
“I wish I could help,” I said.
“McKenzie?” Donatucci stepped away from the window and turned to face me across the length of the bed. “In your earlier statements, you said the Lily was in the motel room…”
“No. I said—look, it could have been the Lily, it could have been a fake, I don’t know. I remember examining it. I was looking for the M. That’s the last thing I remember before the paramedics arrived.”
“Then you did not authenticate the Lily.”
“I don’t know.”
“Fake or not, you said it was made of jade,” Donatucci said.
“It felt like jade.”
“McKenzie, we’ve examined the debris left after the explosion. We sifted through it very carefully and we can’t find any jade. Not a shard, not even a sliver.”
“Huh?”
“Can you explain that?”
“No, I can’t,” I said.
“You’re absolutely sure it was there, the Lily?”
“Yes. Or at least something resembling the Lily.”
“The money…”
“It was in room 122 last time I saw it.”
“We found your dolly and the three gym bags—the shape charge blew upward, so room 122 was more or less intact. The money was gone.”
“Big surprise.”
Donatucci threw a hard look at Rask. I don’t know what passed between the two, but it was clear that neither of them was satisfied with my answers.
“I presume you won’t be paying off a claim on the Jade Lily anytime soon,” I said.
“No,” Donatucci said. “Not until we have more definitive evidence that it’s irretrievably lost.”
Good, my inner voice said.
“Have you informed the boys and girls at the museum?” I asked.
Donatucci quickly glanced at his watch. “They’re having another one of their emergency meetings in about an hour. I’ll tell them then.”
“Good.” This time I said it aloud.
“I’m also going to tell them that the investigation will continue. This isn’t over yet, McKenzie.”
“Gentlemen,” the doctor said from the door, “if there’s nothing else, Mr. McKenzie needs his rest.”
To emphasize her point, she pushed herself away from the door and then pulled it open.