Sanders 01 - Silent Run (10 page)

“You liked to take pictures,” Jake said finally.

“Of what?” she asked.

“Buildings, landscapes, flowers, animals, pretty much whatever grabbed your interest. Not people, though. You never shot people. Even when Caitlyn was born, you seemed reluctant to take photos of her. I have no idea what you did with the ones you did take. They disappeared with you."

“What else?” she asked, eager for as much as he could give her. “What about your family? Do you have other siblings besides Dylan? Parents? Grandparents? Did we spend time with them?"

He gazed back at her, his expression still grim. “My parents divorced when I was ten. That's the last time I saw my mother. My father and I don't spend time together anymore. You never met him. We did, however, visit my grandmother a few times in the convalescent home. She liked you, but she had Alzheimer's, so God only knows who she thought you were half the time. Are we done? Because this is a waste of time. It doesn't matter who you were or what you did with me. What we need to figure out is where you've been the last seven months."

“I know, but how do we do that? All I have is a deeply ingrained sense of fear and the belief that I've been running for a long time."

“Maybe you have,” he said. “I should have dug deeper when you were with me. I should have asked more questions."

“Why would you? It sounds like we had a normal relationship."

“I knew better than to take you at face value. My parents' divorce was brutal, and the months leading up to it were a nightmare of accusations and lies. Afterward was no better. I grew up thinking it would be smarter to stay single and save myself a shitload of pain. But, no, I let you get under my skin. I broke every rule I'd ever made for myself, and you screwed me every way you could."

“I'm sorry I hurt you,” she said, the words springing forth before she could stop them.

His eyes darkened. “How can you be sorry when you claim not to know what you did?"

“Because it's clear that I caused you pain. And it's obvious that I wasn't the only one in your life to do that. It sounds like you had a rough childhood."

“I'm not going to talk to you about my parents."

“Then tell me about mine,” she said, changing the topic again in search of something that would give her a clue to her past.

“I don't know anything about your family. You said they were dead, that they died in a car crash and you went to live with your grandmother in Boston, but I couldn't find her or any record of her -- or you, for that matter. So that was a lie."

She sighed. It seemed every question she asked eventually led to a dead end. “Are you sure there's nothing else I told you about my parents, like where we lived, or what they looked like, or what they did for a living?"

“You said you missed watching old musicals and movies with your mom. I think she was a stay-at-home mom. You didn't mention a job. Apparently when you were a little girl, your mother used to take you to a movie theater in the afternoons where --"

“Where movies were a dollar,” she finished, excitement racing through her veins. “I remember that movie house. It was one of those big, old-fashioned theaters. We used to sit in the balcony in the front row. I'd put my feet up on the railing." She paused. "Weird that I would remember that and nothing else."

“Maybe you remembered the movie house because there's nothing about it that scares you. But something terrifies you. There has to be a reason why your brain is protecting you from your memories."

“Is that the way you think of it?"

“How do you think of it?” he countered.

“I feel lost in my own head. It's strange. It's like you're telling me a story about someone I don't know. Some things you say feel right, but others don't. I'm trying to rely on my instincts, but I feel like I'm walking through a minefield."

“Because you mixed lies with truth, Sarah. That's why things don't add up. You should try to get some sleep. Maybe when you wake up you'll know who you are. And we can go get Caitlyn."

“How was I with Caitlyn?"

He cleared his throat. “Good. You were good,” he said roughly. “The two of you were inseparable from the moment I cut the cord and handed her to you."

“You cut the cord?” she echoed, the tender image at odds with the hard man sitting in front of her.

“Yeah, I did. I was there for every second of the fourteen hours you were in labor. And when Caitlyn was born, my life changed.” His gaze settled on her face. “It was the best moment of my life. The worst was when I realized you'd taken Caitlyn and left me.” He jerked to his feet. “I'm going for a walk."

“Jake..."

“What?"

“Did we really love each other?"

He paused by the door. “When you get your memory back, you'll know the answer."

* * *

“She went on the news,” Shane Hollis said, adrenaline rushing through his blood as he turned off the television set in his motel room. He hadn't anticipated that she would go public. It changed everything, and it would make it more difficult to get to her. “She went on the fucking news,” he repeated.

The silence on the other end of the phone disturbed him. He'd already failed several times. He knew he would have only one more chance at the most. If he didn't kill her, his own life would be over.

There had been a time when they were equals, brothers -- or so he had thought. But what had started out as a game in their youth had taken turns he had never imagined. He stared down at the tattoo on his wrist, still remembering the day they'd gone in to get them. The tiger stood for fierceness, power, loyalty, brotherhood. He hadn't realized at the time that it also stood for murder.

He was in too deep now; there was no way out. The price of belonging to their elite group was blood on his hands that would never come off. He could only continue what had begun years earlier.

“I'm disappointed in you,” the man said. “After all I've done for you."

Shane wanted to point out that he'd done far more in return, but he remained silent. The order of power in their group had been established long ago. The man on the other end of the line had known how to use each one of them to his own advantage. But he had made one critical mistake -- a woman with long blond hair and blue eyes, a woman who still had to be silenced.

“I'll get her,” Shane promised. “I just need some time. Besides, she doesn't remember anything. She's not a threat right now. We can wait until things cool down."

The pause at the other end of the line sent a chill down his spine. It wasn't his place to offer opinions.

“As long as she breathes, she's a threat,” the man said. “She betrayed me. She must pay for that. I've waited a long time for her to die. I won't wait any longer."

“I'll get her, but there's someone with her -- a man named Jake Sanders. He claims to be the father of her baby, but I never saw a kid."

“Maybe you weren't looking closely enough."

“What do you want me to do about the guy?” he asked, ignoring the criticism.

“Kill him, too."

His blood thundered in his veins. “What about the child?"

The line clicked, replaced by a dial tone. Shane closed his phone, knowing it didn't matter what he wanted to do. He would do what had to be done. If he didn't, someone else would.

Sarah was relieved to see the sun shining when she woke up the next morning. Unfortunately her optimism faded as she tried to remember something about herself that Jake hadn't told her, and she came up with nothing. At least she felt better. Her head didn't hurt, and moving it from side to side did not make her dizzy. Thank goodness.

She glanced at the chair where Jake had spent the night. It was empty now, but she suspected he hadn't gone far. During the night she'd been vaguely aware of Jake trying to get comfortable on the two chairs he'd propped together, but she doubted he'd been successful. She'd suggested he go to a motel, but it was clear he had no intention of leaving her until they found Caitlyn.

Getting out of bed, she made her way to the restroom to wash up. She was determined to get out of the hospital and go look for her daughter. She couldn't spend another day in bed doing nothing.

When she returned to the room, Jake and Dylan were waiting for her. Dylan had changed out of his suit and into a pair of worn blue jeans with a dark blue sweater. Jake also wore jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. Despite their similar attire, the two men didn't look all that much alike.

Dylan was a golden boy, tan, handsome. Jake was rugged, less refined, more serious, less flippant. But there was a connection between them, an unspoken conversation that seemed to go on whenever they were together. They were united in their search for Caitlyn and in their feelings about her. Perhaps not completely united, she amended, seeing a softening in Jake's eyes as he looked at her. There had been a connection between them, too, one strong enough for Jake to go against his brother. If he had to choose again, would he make the same choice?

“I'm glad you're both here,” she said, taking the first step. “I want to go to the accident scene this morning. I want to start looking for Caitlyn."

“So do I,” Jake said. “I think we should retrace your steps from the site of the car crash back to LA, to the last-known address of the woman who gave you the car."

Sarah liked the idea of taking action, but she had one big concern. “Are you sure it's a good idea for us to leave the area? What if Caitlyn is around here?"

“She's not in that canyon,” Jake said decisively. “She has to be somewhere else. And since no one has come forward from the immediate area, I'm guessing she's nowhere close by."

“What about the news broadcast last night?” she asked. “Did it generate any leads?"

“There were several calls.” Jake glanced over at Dylan. “You have the details. Why don't you tell her?"

“The first call was from a gas station attendant about thirty miles from here,” Dylan said. “He stated that he saw you fill up the tank, and you gave him two twenty-dollar bills for payment. You didn't bring the child inside, nor did he see a kid in the car. He admitted that he wasn't paying much attention. There were also a few calls from obvious cranks."

“What do you mean?"

“Well, one man said you're his daughter, and you owe him five hundred dollars. He's a homeless man well-known by the police, and he has no children. Another woman said you ran out on a bill at her coffee shop; she's also hoping to gain some cash by taking advantage of your memory loss."

“That's it?” she asked, feeling depressed. Wasn't there anyone who knew her? Who cared about her?

“Well, there was another woman who said you look like a friend of hers who disappeared eight years ago. She lives out by the coast, north of here, in San Luis Obispo. Manning talked to her, but said she had no facts to connect her friend with you, just a feeling. She wasn't completely sure she recognized you, and apparently she fancies herself something of a psychic. He thinks it's extremely doubtful there's any connection."

Sarah's heart had taken a jump at the thought of a friend, but neither Dylan nor Jake seemed excited by the news. “You don't think she could be telling the truth, then?"

“I thought I'd drive out there and talk to her today,” Dylan replied. “Just to be sure. We don't want to overlook any leads. It's a long shot."

Sarah blew out a breath, wishing there were more information, but in an odd way strangely relieved that there wasn't. Her reaction was wrong, she thought. She should have wanted someone to come forward and identify her, but her instincts told her it wouldn't be that easy. She'd taken great pains to hide herself away. “Shall we go?"

Jake hesitated. “Do you want to eat something first, see the doctor before we go?"

“I'm not hungry, and I don't need to see the doctor. He's obviously not going to give me back my memory. The sooner we start, the sooner we'll find Caitlyn.” She glanced at Dylan. “Could you hand me my coat, please?"

He grabbed her coat off the chair and tossed it to her. She realized her mistake a split second too late. As the jacket flew through the air, the money slipped out of the unzipped pocket and landed on the floor in a wash of green bills.

“What the hell is this?” Jake asked as he knelt down to collect the money. He glanced up at her, shocked. “Good God, Sarah, there must be fifteen hundred dollars here."

“Fourteen hundred and forty dollars,” she corrected. “I counted it yesterday when I found the money in my coat, and before you ask, I don't know where it came from. It was in a zippered pocket in the back of the jacket, almost like a hiding place. There was nothing else there."

Dylan grabbed the jacket and ran his hands around it, obviously intent on making sure she was telling the truth. “Nothing."

“That's what I said,” Sarah repeated. “And I'd like my money back."

Jake gave her a hard look as he stood up, the wad of cash in his hand. “How do you know it's your money?"

“Well, it was in my jacket, wasn't it?” She took the money from Jake and stuffed it into the back pocket making sure the zipper was closed this time. “Are you ready?"

“More than ready,” he replied.

“As soon as you leave this hospital, you're both going to be a target,” Dylan said. “Are you sure you don't want me to follow you two down to LA, Jake?"

“I'd rather you follow up the lead with that woman who thinks Sarah looks familiar. There's a reason Sarah was in this area, and I can't discount the fact that maybe she was looking for some family or a friend or a place to hide,” Jake said.

“I agree, but I'm still worried about you,” Dylan said.

Sarah hated the way they were talking over her, but since she had nothing to add to the conversation she kept her mouth shut. She was relieved that they would be splitting up from Dylan. Dealing with Jake was hard enough; she didn't need his antagonistic brother around. Once Dylan had left the room, she let out a breath of relief.