Sanders 01 - Silent Run (27 page)

“You're staring at me,” he echoed with a smile.

“You're very intense when you work, focused, determined, relentless. You usually get what you want, don't you?"

“Usually. Unfortunately my intensity is not bringing me any luck tonight. I've struck out on both Andy Hart and Teresa Meyers. Any ideas? I've tried all the usual methods, but I've come up with nothing. Maybe there's something you know about Andy that could help me find him. You said you lived together when you were kids?"

Catherine set down her dishtowel, picked up two steaming mugs of tea, and joined him at the table. She pushed one of the mugs in his direction. “You'll like this. It's good for concentration."

“I'm more of a coffee guy."

“This is better for you."

He rolled his eyes. “I hate it when people tell me what's good for me."

She gave him a smile. “I'm sure you do, but you will like the tea if you give it a chance."

“Fine. I'll drink the tea. Now you give me something in return."

Catherine thought for a moment. “Andy lived with us for about a year. Then he was moved because he got into trouble in high school. He hacked into the computer system to change one of his grades. He was too smart for school; he didn't pay attention when he was bored."

“So he was into computers. What else?"

“Video games, movies, comic books, graphic novels, Dungeons and Dragons. He was very creative, very competitive, a big game player."

“That's good. Maybe there's a clue there. What about the fake IDs? When did he get into that?"

“High school. He made a lot of money providing underage kids with fake IDs."

“Did you have one?"

“Of course.” Catherine's gaze was completely unapologetic. “We didn't grow up in a pretty world, Dylan. It was every man for himself. We did what we had to do to survive, and Andy was no better or worse than the rest of us."

“You're saying that you and Jessica also cut corners?"

Her eyes narrowed. “I know you're looking for more dirt on Jessica, but I'm not going to give it to you."

“I'm just trying to get an idea of her background,” he said.

“Bullshit. You don't care about Jessica. You just want to get her child back for your brother. But I intend to protect my friend, regardless of what you think of her. You have no idea what it's like to grow up alone, to have to protect and defend yourself from all manner of danger when you're just a child,” Catherine continued, passion filling her voice. “You learn early on that no one is going to stand up for you. No one is going to protect you if someone raises their hand to you or does something worse. People look the other way. They don't want to see the ugly side of life. They want to pretend it isn't there --"

“I show people the ugly side of life every day in my job,” he interrupted. “That's what I do. I shine a light on things people would rather keep hidden. So don't think I ever look the other way, because I don't."

A flush of red spread across her cheeks, and he could see a spark of anger in her eyes. Her breasts were moving up and down with the pace of her breathing, and he found himself wanting to undo the buttons on her paint-spattered shirt and see if her nipples were the same glorious pink as her cheeks. Damn. He'd thought she was pretty before, but now, in a passion, she was something else. And he was letting himself get sidetracked.

“It's different to report what's wrong in the world than to live it,” she said, her words fortunately drawing his attention away from her breasts.

He cleared his throat, trying to remember what they were even talking about. Catherine was turning out to be a bigger distraction than he would have ever anticipated.

“I'll give you that,” he conceded. “Tell me more about the way you and Jessica grew up. I promise not to judge."

“I doubt that's possible,” she snapped. “How do you ever keep your objectivity when you're reporting? You seem to have very strong opinions."

“My opinions are the strongest when they involve the people I care about -- like my brother."

“Well, Jessica is a sister to me, so keep that in mind."

“Okay, please go on."

Catherine drew in a couple of breaths and then continued. “In foster care it's all about fitting in. Not making waves so you won't get kicked out of the home you're in, won't have to change schools again, won't have to make new friends, start over. Not that all of the homes are good. Some are horrific. Some you have to run away from. And sometimes the only people you can trust are the other kids who are fighting for their lives. That's why, when you find a couple of friends you think you can trust, you hang on for dear life."

Catherine had painted a vivid and sad picture, and Dylan had to admit he felt some compassion for what Catherine and Jessica had gone through. His family life had not been good, but at least he'd always had Jake to try to run interference for him, to look out for him. Jake had been his savior on more than one occasion, and it would take him a lifetime to pay his brother back.

“Jessica was pretty soft in the beginning,” Catherine continued. “Because her parents died, she'd had a good childhood to start, so she knew what she was missing when things went bad. Some of the rest of us had never lived that other life, so in some ways it was easier to just accept what was. But Jessica kept thinking that her grandparents were going to come and rescue her. It took her a long time to give up on that hope. Finally she came to realize that you have to make a family where you can find one, and that family was Andy, Teresa, and myself. We tried to watch out for one another, but we were together for only a few years. I regret that Jessica and I lost touch after we split up. I was so happy when Teresa and Jessica said they were going to drive across country to meet me in New York.” Sadness filled her eyes. “If I had told them not to come, maybe none of this would have happened. But I didn't, and it did, and that's why you're here."

“What about you? How did you end up in foster care? What happened to your parents?"

She shook her head. “I don't want to talk about that."

He knew he should shut up and respect her privacy, but his curiosity got the better of him. “You had it rougher than Jessica, didn't you?"

“It's not my turn to tell my story,” Catherine said. “Nor is it yours."

“I don't have a story."

“Yes, you do -- maybe a story you don't even know you have."

He frowned at that cryptic statement, feeling a cold chill wash over him. There were some unanswered questions in his past, but he hadn't asked them in a long time. Someday he might. But not tonight. “You're good at distracting people. Back to Andy Hart. How are we going to find him?"

Catherine thought for a moment. “Andy loved to do animation, cartoons, comic-novel type stories on the computer. Maybe he got a job in one of those fields."

“That's an idea. I can try that angle. You said you were in LA when you were in foster care. So I assume you were all from that area. I've found a few Andy Harts, but none the right age or ethnicity in the Southern California area. And I can't help wondering if Andy Hart, the master of fake IDs, doesn't go under another name himself."

Catherine started. “Oh, lord, I didn't even think of that. Yes, you're right. Of course he did. Put in Xander with an X. Xander... what was that last name he used? Xander Cross. That was the superhero he created in his comics."

Dylan typed in the words and hit search. A moment later he had a half dozen hits, including one Xander Cross, owner of a video game/comics bookstore in San Francisco.

His heart stopped when he read the address. Xander's business was very close to where Jake and Sarah had lived. He should have thought of that earlier. They'd always suspected Sarah had help leaving Jake, because she hadn't taken a car. Maybe Xander Cross, her old friend from foster care, had done the job. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number listed. An answering machine picked up on the third ring. The store was closed and would reopen at ten o'clock the next morning.

“No one is there tonight, but I think we found him,” he said.

Catherine smiled, and it almost took his breath away. He didn't know if he was more excited about finding Andy Hart, a.k.a. Xander Cross, or the fact that Catherine was looking at him like he was some kind of a god. In truth, she was the one who'd found Xander, not him.

“Maybe Andy knows where Jessica's baby is,” Catherine said.

“I sure as hell hope so. I wish we could get in touch with him tonight, but I guess we'll have to wait."

“I'd like to talk to him again, see how he is,” Catherine said. “He always said he would run his own business. He wasn't the type to work for anyone else. I guess he gave up his Andy Hart persona and became Xander Cross."

“Well, if I had a choice between being a foster kid or a superhero, I'd probably choose the superhero."

“I'm sure you would. So now what? Can you relax, take a breath?"

“Hardly. We still have to find Teresa and figure out who's trying to kill Jessica."

“Finish your tea first. I want to read your tea leaves."

“I don't think so. I don't want to know the future,” he said.

“Are you sure? I wouldn't have taken you for a man who liked to be surprised."

“I don't know about that. I like change. It beats the same old thing every day."

“Maybe you're just afraid."

He knew she was manipulating him, but still he rose to the bait. He drank his tea down to the leaves and pushed the cup over to her. “Fine, tell me what you see. And I hope it's a gorgeous blonde with hot legs and big breasts.” He laughed at her expression.

“Is that really all you look for in a woman?” she asked.

“What's wrong with hot legs and big breasts?"

“Nothing, if you're a shallow playboy who doesn't want a serious relationship."

He gave a little shrug. “What about you? What do you look for in a man?"

“Well, certainly more than a big penis,” she said frankly.

He laughed at her bluntness. Catherine Hilliard was an odd mix of bright-eyed innocence and cynical weariness. He couldn't quite figure her out. “Like what?"

“Brains, personality, sense of humor, good heart,” she said.

“Kind to dogs, cats, and birds,” he finished.

“Absolutely."

“So I guess Prince Charming hasn't shown up yet, huh?"

A shadow crossed her face. “He came. He left,” she said softly. “Now, let's take a look at your fortune."

He was actually far more interested in her last statement than his own fortune, but Catherine was ignoring him now.

A few moments later she set the cup down and said, “Never mind."

“Hey, hold on. You can't just start something and not finish it."

“You said you like surprises. I think you have a lot of fun in store for you.” She stood up. “I'll make up the couch for you. It's storming too hard for you to leave."

“Wait,” Dylan said, catching her by the arm. “Do the surprises have to do with Jake and Sarah?"

“No, they have to do with your past. You judge Sarah harshly for her secrets, but you have some of your own."

He frowned. “Look, I don't know what you're talking about, Catherine, and I certainly don't want to show any disrespect for your fortune-telling abilities, but I don't believe a bunch of tea leaves can predict my future."

“There are two women,” she said. “One represents danger, the other salvation. But it will be difficult for you to know which is which unless you find a way to listen to your heart instead of your head. A task, I fear, that will not be easy for you. I'll see you in the morning."

“Yeah, thanks for the bedtime story,” he said sarcastically.

His words did little more than make her smile. “The disbelievers always fall the hardest.”

The door to the motel room opened, and Sarah started, letting out a breath of relief when she saw it was Jake. His hair and jacket were wet from the rain, and he didn't look any more relaxed than when he'd left. He had a damp newspaper in his hand, which he tossed down on the table along with a brown paper bag.

“What's that?” she asked.

“Stuff,” he said vaguely.

“Are you okay?"

“How the hell do you think I am, Sarah?"

Since she had no good answer for him, she said nothing. She wasn't sure if she should tell him what she'd remembered about their last day together. His mood seemed dangerously volatile. Would he be happy that she'd remembered him at all? Or would it just annoy him more? Her memory had given her little new information, so perhaps she'd keep it to herself for now.

Jake sat down by his new laptop computer and began hitting the buttons. Apparently he wasn't planning to talk to her. Well, maybe it was better that way. She didn't know what to say to him either. Glancing at the clock radio by the bed, she saw that it was ten o'clock. They still had a long night ahead of them. Would Jake sleep with her or take the other bed? Would it be as awkward and uncomfortable as it was right now?

Putting a hand to her abdomen, she thought again about the fact that she could have just gotten herself pregnant. What an idiot. She might not remember her life, but she knew better than to have unprotected sex. She just hadn't been thinking -- she'd been feeling. She'd let her emotions run free for what felt like the first time in forever, and it had felt great. She suspected she'd been keeping a tight rein for the last seven months, and she'd needed the release.

But it had been more than just a release of tension and simple sex.
Simple
could never describe the relationship she and Jake shared. It was complicated in every possible way. She didn't know how she felt about him or how he felt about her. They were both afraid to care too much -- even though they had different reasons for that fear. She couldn't remember enough, and he remembered too much.