Sanders 01 - Silent Run (28 page)

She flipped on the television set, desperate to bring some neutral noise into the room. She was far too aware of Jake's presence just a few feet away.

Changing the channels, she finally settled on one of the local news shows. She wasn't paying much attention until the camera panned an area that looked very familiar to her. It was Venice Beach, a location not far from her apartment building.

She sat up abruptly. “Jake,” she said urgently. “Look."

He frowned, not lifting his gaze from the screen. “What? I'm concentrating here."

“The TV.” She turned up the sound as the news reporter began to speak. “A body was found behind a dumpster at Venice Beach early this evening. He was shot in the head, execution style,” the woman said. “The man has been identified as thirty-six-year-old Shane Hollis of Chicago. The police have no suspects and no motive, and would like the public's help in solving this crime.” A phone number ran across the bottom of the screen just as a photo came up next to the reporter. It was a head shot of a man with dark hair and dark eyes.

Sarah felt like she'd been punched in the stomach. “Oh, my God!”

Jake jerked to his feet. “That's --"

“The man who tried to kill us earlier,” she finished. “Someone murdered him. Why?"

Jake's gaze met hers. “Because he didn't get the job done,” he said slowly. “You're still alive."

“This is... insane,” she whispered.

“I agree. In fact, I think we're dealing with someone who is insane."

“It's possible that the man's death doesn't have anything to do with me,” she said halfheartedly. “He was a thug. He could have had lots of enemies. He could have tried to hurt someone else."

“No, Sarah. He's been up and down the state the past three days trying to kill you. This has everything to do with you. At least we have one name, Shane Hollis. And he was from Chicago, which is where Catherine placed her friend Jessica when she disappeared eight years ago.” Jake turned back toward his computer. “I've just about got the Internet up. We can look up Shane Hollis and start with him."

She rose from the bed and joined him at the table, taking the seat next to him. “If Shane was murdered in Venice Beach, just a few miles from here, that means whoever did it is also close by."

“Yeah,” Jake agreed with a nod.

Sarah felt a shiver run down her spine. “And we don't know what he looks like. Before, we knew what Shane Hollis looked like, but now we're in the dark again. Any man we see could be the person who's after me.” She stopped and thought for a moment. “Or it could be a woman."

“I don't think so. That bullet through the head looked very macho to me, deliberate, ruthless. Not that a woman couldn't do it, but my gut tells me it's a man."

The overhead light began to flicker, and her pulse jumped again. “Did you see that, Jake?"

“Yeah,” he muttered, still intent on his computer search.

“What do you think it was?"

“I don't know, a power surge."

Her imagination roared into action. What if someone was playing with the circuit breakers? What if whoever had killed Shane Hollis had tracked them to this motel? He could be outside, cutting the electricity. If they didn't have lights, they wouldn't be able to see him. As her terror began to rise, she put her hand on Jake's arm.

He finally glanced over at her. His gaze narrowed. “What's wrong, Sarah?"

She swallowed hard. “What if they cut the lights?"

“There's no reason to think anyone knows where we are."

“There's no reason to think they don't. They seem to know everything, and they're always one step ahead of us."

A loud rumble of thunder made her jump to her feet, but she still kept her hand on Jake's arm. She didn't know whether to run or hide, but she felt it was imperative that she do something.

“It's the storm,” Jake said. “That's why the lights flickered.” He got to his feet and put his hands on her waist. “It's okay. We're all right."

“I don't want the lights to go out. Bad things happen in the dark."

“What kind of bad things?” he asked, gazing into her eyes.

She stared back at him. “I don't know."

The overhead light flickered again, as did the computer screen. Sarah held her breath, waiting for the lights to steady themselves, but then everything went black. She let out a panicked cry.

Jake hauled her tight into his arms, pressing her face against his chest. “It's just a power outage, Sarah."

“You don't know that,” she mumbled. “I can't stand this. I can't be here in the dark."

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly. “I'm going to open the curtains a little, let some of the outdoor light in."

She clung to his waist as he tried to move away from her. “No, don't leave me. Please don't leave me."

The words echoed over and over in her mind. Closing her eyes, she heard another voice in her head, the voice of a young girl, pleading, begging...

It was so dark. Were her eyes open?

She felt like a blind person straining to see something. She couldn't hear anyone breathing except herself. There was something holding her down. A seat belt. Her fingers felt for the release. As she squinted, she saw a touch of blond hair hanging over the vague, shadowy seat in front of her. A man was slumped over the steering wheel. She was in a car. The roof was smashed in. Something big and scary was on the hood. It looked like a monster. It sounded like his claws were scraping the top of the car as he tried to get in.

She let out a scream of terror. “Mommy, Daddy. Wake up."

No one answered her. She started to cry. Why weren't they waking up? Why weren't they trying to get out of the car?

She had to get help. She reached for the door handle, but it wouldn't open. The door was crushed in on the side. She tried the other door, but something heavy was behind it. She pushed and she pushed, sweating and straining, but the doors wouldn't open. And she couldn't see anything outside of the car. She was trapped.

Her breath came short and fast. She tried pushing on the car door again. Suddenly something gave way. The car began to rock. Then it started to slide. She was moving. She screamed again as the car picked up speed.

She tried to hold on to her seat, but the car flipped over and she felt her body fly through the air. Her head hit something hard. She couldn't see at all anymore. Was she dead? Were her parents dead?

“Don't leave me,” she cried. “Please don't leave me."

“Sarah, Sarah, snap out of it.” Jake gave her shoulders a shake. “Look at me. You're okay. You're safe."

He'd pushed open the curtain behind her, allowing in enough light to soften the shadows.

“It's just the storm. Listen to the rain. No one cut the power to lure us outside.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “You're ice-cold. I can feel the chill through your sweater. Where were you just now?"

“I was in the car with my parents,” she said. “There was an accident. It was a really dark night. I tried to wake them up, to get out of the car, but it started to shake and slide and then it flipped over and over. When it finally stopped, I knew they were dead.” She gazed into Jake's eyes. “And I was alone in the dark."

His eyes filled with a protective tenderness. “Oh, God, Sarah! I'm sorry you had to go through that."

“We were there for hours. Nobody moved. Nobody talked. I couldn't stand it."

“You're not alone now. I'm here. I'm not leaving."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him as tightly as she could. She knew she wasn't being fair to him. He had walked away from her earlier. He had told her he wasn't going to touch her again, but she needed him now. She needed his comfort, his warmth, his embrace. And as he'd promised, Jake didn't move away. He let her cling to him. He gave her the support, the security that she craved.

Finally she eased her death grip on his neck and pulled back so she could look at him. “Thank you."

“You never told me about your parents' accident. I knew you didn't like the dark, but you never said why. Did you remember anything else?"

She'd known the question was coming. In fact, she wondered how he'd had the restraint to wait so long in asking it.

She shook her head.

He let out a sigh. “Well, at least we have one more truth."

“Do you think in the end that the truths will make up for the lies?"

“If you're asking me if I could forgive you --"

“No, I'm not asking you that,” she said quickly. “Not now anyway.” But as she looked at him, she wondered if one day she'd have to let him answer that question.

“Let's sit down.” Jake led her over to the bed.

She perched on the edge.

“You might as well get comfortable. We might not have any lights for a while."

She stretched out on top of the covers. Jake walked around to the other side of the bed and lay down next to her. There was a good foot between them, and Jake had his arms folded over his chest. He made no attempt to touch her. He simply stared at the ceiling. But she could tell by the stiffness of his pose that he wasn't at all relaxed. The air between them grew thick and heavy and restless.

“Don't,” Jake said abruptly. “We're not going there again. I can't let you back in."

“Can we just hold each other?” she asked, rolling onto her side.

He shook his head. “No. No touching. Too dangerous."

“I didn't make love to you earlier to prove something to myself or to bring my memory back. I did it because I feel a connection to you."

“We always had good chemistry. No surprise there."

“I'm not talking about physical attraction, although it definitely exists."

“Sarah, you don't know me. And I don't know you. Let's just leave it at that."

“I know that you're protective and kind and loyal."

“I'm not a damn Boy Scout,” he growled.

“No, you're far too angry and intense and impatient for that. But you're a good person."

He turned his head to look at her. “Don't say any more."

“I can't stand this wall between us."

“Well, it's not coming down tonight.” He swore. “Dammit."

“What?"

“Come here."

She didn't know why he'd had a change of heart, but she wasn't going to argue. She curled up into his embrace, her head back on his shoulder. This was where she belonged. This was home, she realized. Where she wanted to be. It was perfect -- well, almost perfect. When they had Caitlyn, then her world would be right again.

“Just sleep,” Jake ordered.

“I want to,” she said. “But I'm afraid of where the dreams will take me."

“Don't be afraid. We'll go there together. Take me with you this time, Sarah. Take me into the nightmare. Let me help you find a way out."

She closed her eyes, keeping Jake's image front and center. Wherever she went, he was going with her.

* * *

When Dylan woke up the next morning, the storm had passed. After using the bathroom, he walked into the kitchen and saw a kettle on the stove as well as more tea bags. He might have to stop at a Starbucks on his way to LA or die of caffeine deprivation.

He poured himself a cup of tea and took it out on the back deck. Catherine was on the beach with her dogs again, a big floppy sweater around her jeans and T-shirt. Her feet were bare as usual. She apparently wasn't that into shoes, the first woman he'd ever met who seemed more comfortable out of heels than in them.

She was a lonely-looking figure, he thought, curious again as to why she'd chosen to live such a hermitlike existence. He also wondered what had happened to her Prince Charming, the one who'd come and left, as she put it. Was that guy responsible for the angry mood of her paintings? Or did her art come from some other dark place in her soul?

She certainly wouldn't be an easy woman to love, not with her psychic claims and cryptic predictions. He wasn't sure he'd want to live with a woman who could see the future. Not that he really believed in her fortune-telling skills. Still, despite his best efforts to ignore her predictions about his own life, he couldn't help wondering about the two women she'd seen in his future, one who was supposed to be his worst enemy and the other his salvation. Maybe Catherine should be writing mystery novels instead of painting. She had a knack for opening up a good story, anyway. Not that she'd been interested in finishing it.

Turning away from the view, he reentered the house and checked his watch. It was almost ten o'clock. Time to give Xander Cross a call. He hoped this would be the break they desperately needed. But if not, he was going to get Catherine down to LA to meet up with Sarah face-to-face. Maybe she could jog Sarah's memory.

Punching in Xander's number, he waited for someone to pick up. Finally a woman's voice came over the phone. “Hex-Games,” she said, giving the name of the shop.

“I'd like to speak to Xander Cross,” he said.

There was a long pause at the other end of the phone. “I'm sorry, but that's not possible. Can someone else help you?"

“No, it's a personal matter. Is he there?"

“No."

“Can you give me another number for him? It's very important that I speak to him as soon as possible."

“Hold on a second."

Dylan tapped his fingers on the table as he waited for her to return, but instead a man's voice came over the phone.

“This is Joe Morgan, the owner of the store. Can I help you?"

“I need to speak to Xander Cross,” Dylan said. “I thought he was the owner."

“He used to be. Are you a friend?"

Dylan frowned, wondering why he was getting the runaround. “Not exactly, but we have a mutual acquaintance. A friend of mine is in trouble, and I think Mr. Cross might be able to help her."