"Hotel security would take care of that."

"Normally, yes. But when someone reported an alleged sword fight going on, they called us."

He laughed. "A sword fight in a hotel room? You need to cut back on the caffeine."

"You don't remember the guy with the sex toys?"

Harvey gave her a dubious look. "You're crazy. Our last call was a drunken brawl in Times Square."

Her skin chilled. "I'm not crazy." It did happen. Just because Harvey and the paramedics couldn't remember it, that didn't mean it hadn't happened. Somehow Jack had erased their memories. What manner of man could do that?

At least he hadn't screwed with her head like he had the others. Or had he? Was she remembering something that hadn't even happened?

Oh God, not again. She'd already spent six months of her life in utter confusion, unable to tell reality from dreams. After the car accident, reality had seemed fuzzy, and her dreams had seemed real.

She had to know. She had to go back and face Jack.

Two blocks ahead of them, a car swerved onto Fifth Avenue. It skidded across two lanes, sliding dangerously close to a yellow cab before speeding away.

Harvey eased on the accelerator. "What do you think? Drunk driver?"

"Or stolen vehicle." Lara grabbed the radio mike to call the dispatcher. "I need a ten-fourteen." She read the license plate number as they continued to follow.

The radio crackled. "That's a ten-seventeen." The dispatcher reported the vehicle was not stolen.

"Roger," she answered. "Looks like a DWI."

"Let's get him." Harvey hit the lights and siren.

Lara's nerves tensed. You never knew how people would react. Luckily, the driver cooperated, and twenty minutes later, they were hauling his drunken ass into headquarters.

As the sun rose, Lara finished her paperwork for the night.