Sanders 01 - Silent Run (21 page)

She hung up her coat on a hook by the door. “I just ran next door to see if my neighbor could watch my pets while we're gone. But we're going to have to wait until morning."

“Why?” he asked sharply. “You said you'd go tonight. Why have you changed your mind? Don't you realize how important this is?"

“I do, but it's starting to rain, and the storm will be severe. If we leave tonight, we won't make it."

“Of course we'll make it. It's just a little rain. I can handle it."

“I saw an accident,” Catherine said slowly, quietly.

“What do you mean, you saw an accident?"

She stared back at him, the answer in her eyes -- an answer he didn't want to believe.

“You mean, like, in a vision?” he asked.

“Yes."

It sounded like an awfully convenient vision to him. “Look, we'll drive carefully, slowly."

“I'm surprised those two words are in your vocabulary, because you're neither slow nor careful. But I am. And I can't go tonight. Tomorrow -- in the morning. That's when we'll go."

He didn't want to wait until morning. There had to be something he could say to change her mind, but he had barely finished the thought when a flash of lightning was followed by a rumble of thunder that ran through the house like a freight train. She was right. The storm was upon them. It was a good three-hour trip down the coast to LA, and despite what he'd said, it would be a brutal drive in the pouring rain. Sarah had almost lost her life making such a trip during the last storm. Perhaps they should wait. Still, he itched to get on with it, to make the final connection.

“You're impatient,” Catherine said.

“Well, you don't have to be psychic to see that,” he said dryly, realizing he was tapping his foot. “I don't like to wait. I've spent way too much time waiting for people to...” He didn't finish his sentence, not sure why he'd even started it. He never spoke about his past.

Catherine gave him a speculative look, as if she were reading his mind. He didn't like it. “Fine, we'll go tomorrow,” he said quickly. “First thing in the morning. In the meantime you can tell me everything you know about Jessica."

“I'd be happy to.” Catherine sat on the couch, pulling down the afghan and wrapping it around her shoulders. “But first I have some questions for you."

“Like what?” He took a seat on the chair across from her.

“Tell me about your friend Sarah's baby. What does she look like?"

“Like the most beautiful baby you've ever seen, blond curls, blue eyes, little pug nose. Caitlyn smiled all the time. I told Jake she was going to be a man-killer when she grew up. He'd have to watch her every minute once she hit high school. He was crazy about that kid. When Sarah took her away, he just about went over the edge. I'm sure he feels even worse now, knowing that Caitlyn is in danger from whoever is after Sarah."

“I can't imagine my friend putting her child in danger on purpose,” Catherine said. “Jessica loved babies. She couldn't wait to grow up and be a mom. She wanted so badly to re-create the family that she'd lost. I used to encourage her to think more about a career, a job. She said she didn't have enough money to pay for college, which I know was true, but I think she could have found a way if she really wanted it. She just didn't see her future in academics, and she didn't want to waste her time there. I couldn't blame her. I went to art school. I made painting a priority over finding a job that would pay me a lot of money."

“Going to school would have been too much work. Sarah liked shortcuts."

Catherine shook her head. “Jessica learned early on that life can change in a heartbeat. There's no point in wasting time doing something you don't love. You have to live for the moment."

Dylan leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “I don't know if we're talking about the same person, but I'll tell you this: Sarah isn't living; she's hiding. I talked to my brother earlier today. Since Sarah left him, she's been living in a run-down apartment working as a night janitor. Does that sound like someone who's grabbing hold of life? She walked out on Jake, who makes a good living as an architect. They were building a house together, for God's sake. Jake was willing to give Sarah anything she wanted, and still she left. It's pointless to even try to please a woman, because it's impossible."

Catherine tilted her head. “That last bit sounds like a personal statement."

“Just calling it like I see it."

“You must not have met the right woman."

“Oh, believe me, I've met a lot of women."

“I'm not talking about one-night stands. I'm talking about personal relationships where you actually learn each other's last names."

“Hey, I've gotten plenty of last names."

“But I'm betting not much more than that."

“We're not talking about me,” he returned.

“You don't like to talk about you. It's always about other people. Is that why you became a journalist -- so you could ask the questions?"

He didn't care much for her assessment, even though it was close to the mark. “Let's get back to your friend Jessica."

“I don't know why Jessica or Sarah, if they're the same person, left your brother the way she did, but I am sure of this -- Jessica knows how to survive. She had to learn early how to protect herself, because once her parents died, once she went into the system, she was on her own. If you want to survive in foster care, you have to figure out how to fit in. You have to be a chameleon. You have to be good at reading people, predicting who's going to be a danger to you. You have to learn how to hide, how to run, and how to find help. Just because someone puts you in a house with a roof over your head doesn't mean you're in a good home. The monsters aren't always in the closet or under the bed. Sometimes they're right in front of you, only everyone thinks they're the good guys."

Catherine spoke as if she had had firsthand experience with those monsters. Dark shadows filled her eyes, and he could hear the edge of bitterness in her voice. He wondered if her sinister paintings were an expression of the blackness in her soul. The question came out before he could stop it: “Is that why you paint monsters?"

She caught her breath, and for a moment he didn't think she would answer.

“Yes,” she said finally. “I'm afraid if I don't let them out, they'll swallow me whole."

The fear in her voice forged a connection between them. He'd faced a few monsters in his own time, and he knew what it felt like to be afraid, to feel young and powerless. But he wasn't that scared kid anymore. He could take down any monster that came his way. Apparently Catherine didn't feel quite so confident. He felt an odd urge to reach out to her, to offer his protection, but that was crazy. He didn't know what she was involved in. Hell, she could be as messed-up as Sarah.

He sat back in his chair, realizing they'd gotten off-track. And since Catherine was now working on biting one nail down to the quick, he suspected she was just as interested in changing the subject as he was. He was surprised when she glanced up at him, catching him in midstare.

“You bite your nails,” he said, feeling somewhat stupid at the observation.

She pulled her hand away from her mouth. “Bad habit. Do you have any?"

“None that I intend to share,” he said lightly.

She offered him a small smile, breaking the tension between them. “I've been thinking about what you said before, that you can't understand how Sarah could have taken her child with her when she ran away from your brother, but it makes sense to me if Sarah is Jessica. There is no way on this earth that Jessica would leave a child of hers behind. She wouldn't abandon her daughter, no matter what the stakes. She grew up without a mother; she wouldn't want that for her child."

“What about growing up without a father? Isn't that just as bad?"

“That depends on the father."

“Jake is a good guy. The best. He loves his kid beyond belief.” He paused. “There's nothing you can say that could justify what Sarah did."

“I didn't say that she was right. I just said I understand why she did it.” She gave him a thoughtful look. “What was your family like? Did you have the perfect childhood?"

“Not even close. My father was a shithead. My mother was gone. And Jake was the only one who kept me sane. He knows what it's like to grow up in a bad family. He wouldn't want his baby to grow up without him either. Sarah doesn't have a monopoly on that kind of fear. And Sarah didn't give Jake a chance to help her. He would have walked through fire for her."

“Really? I've never met a man who would do that for a woman."

For some reason her cynical statement unsettled him. He had the insane desire to want to prove to her that he was just such a man. But Catherine was already talking again.

“Jessica wouldn't have expected your brother to help her,” Catherine continued.

“She should have. She was with him for almost two years. If she couldn't figure out what kind of a man he was by then, I don't know what else he could have done. But let's move on. Jake told me that they found numerous fake IDs and birth certificates in Sarah's apartment in LA. She had to have gotten those from someone. Do you have any idea who could have done that kind of work for her?"

Catherine didn't answer right away, and he felt a stirring of excitement in his gut. She knew something.

“If you know, you have to tell me,” he said.

“There was a boy when we were growing up,” she said slowly. “His name was Andy Hart -- he could come up with any ID you wanted. He was a computer-hacker genius and had a lot of other not-so-legal talents, even when he was just a teenager."

“Andy Hart,” Dylan repeated. “Any idea where he'd be now?"

“Probably somewhere in Southern California, but I have no idea. That's where he was when I knew him, but it was a dozen years ago."

“We need to find him."

“How?"

“Well, barring a very convenient psychic vision on your part, I'm guessing the Internet. My laptop is in the car. Mind if I work here?"

“Would it matter if I did? And if you continue to mock my visions, I won't tell you what I saw about you."

He didn't like the odd light in her eyes. “You didn't see anything about me."

“Didn't I?"

Catherine's gaze didn't waver as she stared back at him, and he felt an odd sense of uneasiness. Still, he ignored it. This wasn't about him; it was about Jake and Caitlyn. Their future was the only one he was interested in at the moment. At least, that was what he told himself as he dashed outside to retrieve his computer.

* * *

Jake walked back and forth on the sidewalk next to his car, scanning the area for Sarah or the guy who had jumped them. Another fire truck had just arrived, and the firemen were working hard to contain the fire. Had the fire been set deliberately to lure them out of the building? Or had it also served another purpose, a way to destroy anything and everything in Sarah's apartment?

There hadn't been anything there, he told himself -- nothing except those fake IDs, and those couldn't be valuable. Had they missed something? Was it not just that someone wanted Sarah dead but rather that they wanted something from her?

No, that didn't make sense. If she had something they wanted, they wouldn't have tried to kill her; they would have tried to kidnap her or ransack her apartment while she was out of town. Certainly the other attempts on her life had been solely about getting rid of her. It was more logical to think that the fire had just been a distraction to lure them into the open. And it had worked. Fortunately, they'd managed to evade getting shot, but what was he going to do now?

He'd lost Sarah and he still didn't have Caitlyn. He was right back where he'd started. It was his fault. He'd told Sarah to run, and she'd done just that. She could have hopped on a bus, taken a cab. She could be anywhere now.

A kid on a skateboard came down the street, stopping in front of him, his attention on the fire. “Whoa, dude. That's cool."

Trust a teenager to think a fire destroying the homes of a dozen people was cool.

“Your name Jake?” the kid asked.

“Yes,” he said, surprised and wary.

“Some chick told me to give you this,” the kid said, handing him a piece of paper. He then got on his skateboard and headed closer to the fire action.

Looking around to be sure no one was watching, Jake unfolded the paper and saw only a few words --
Barney's Ice-cream Parlor, Fourth and Beach Street
. The message had to be from Sarah.

Jake got into his car, started the engine, and made a quick U-turn. He headed down the block. They'd come in on Beach Street, just a few blocks away. He checked his rearview mirror every few seconds, hoping he wasn't leading anyone straight to Sarah. With any luck the guy who'd ambushed them had already taken off. Jake wished to God he'd had time to force the guy to say why he was after Sarah, or who he was working for. That would have to wait for another day. At this point he had no reason to doubt that there would be another time. The attacks on Sarah were relentless. No one was giving up. How long would they be able to fend them off?

Jake parked his car in the small lot next to the ice-cream parlor and made his way into the store. It was filled with kids and families, and in the very back corner at a small table sat Sarah. As soon as she saw him, Sarah jumped to her feet and ran over to him. “Are you all right? You're bleeding. I was so worried about you. I was so afraid you wouldn't make it...” Her voice trailed away, as if she couldn't finish the terrifying thought in her head. She searched his face with anxious eyes. “You're hurt."

“I'm fine,” he said. “The firemen arrived just in time."

“Are you sure you don't need to go to the hospital?"