Sanders 01 - Silent Run (6 page)

“What? Why?” he asked in surprise.

“Pull up your sleeve and show me your right wrist. In my dream the man who was holding the gun had a tattoo on his wrist. I want to know if it was you."

“You're crazy, Sarah. I've never shot a gun in my life."

“Then you won't mind showing me your wrist, will you?” she challenged.

Jake hesitated and then shoved up the sleeve of his leather jacket along with his shirt, revealing nothing but skin. “Satisfied?"

“About that,” she replied. Until she knew exactly why she'd left him, she was going to keep her guard up.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of an older man dressed in a business suit. “I'm Randall Jamison, head of hospital security,” he said, his tone serious, his eyes concerned as he approached the bed. “What's the problem?"

Sarah related exactly what had happened, describing the man in her room as best she could. She also told him about her car accident the night before, and the possibility that the two events were connected. While Randall Jamison didn't appear to doubt her story, he didn't seem confident that they would find the person. Sarah had to admit that she wasn't giving him much to go on. It had happened so fast, the room in shadows, the man's face covered by a mask. She wasn't even sure she'd recognize the man if she saw him again.

“I've posted a guard outside your room,” Randall said as they finished their conversation. “I'll also discuss the situation with Deputy Manning and see what else he wants to do in terms of an investigation."

“Thank you.” After Randall left, Sarah picked up the pitcher next to her bed and attempted to pour herself a glass of water. She didn't realize her hands were shaking until she spilled half the water onto the table. She set the pitcher down and drank what little water she'd gotten into her glass. Then she took some tissues and mopped up the spill. All the while she could feel Jake's gaze on her. He seemed to be analyzing her every move, and she felt more than a little uncomfortable under his intense scrutiny. “What?” she finally demanded. “What are you thinking?"

“That you were always neat,” he said, surprising her.

“Really? That's the first positive thing you've said about me.” Her words brought the scowl back to his face.

“That's all I've got,” he replied, obviously regretting his momentary lapse in anger.

“So what do we do now?"

“Hell if I know.” He turned his back on her and walked over to the window. He pulled the curtains wide open, dispelling the lingering shadows in the room.

She was grateful for the light and relieved to deflect Jake's attention from her for at least a moment. She needed to regroup, get her wits about her. Unfortunately, her respite didn't last long.

Jake moved back toward the bed, taking a seat in the chair next to her. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, clasping his hands together. “If you're in danger, then Caitlyn is, too."

She nodded. “I know. I'm really worried about her."

“Then, dammit, you'd better remember where the hell you left her,” he said grimly. “Every second counts, Sarah."

“I'm trying. What else can I do? Everyone keeps telling me to sleep, but each time I do there's a new nightmare."

“Tell me more about this particular nightmare. What exactly did you see?"

She thought for a moment, wanting to get it right, not to miss any important details. “I saw a man holding a gun. On his right wrist was the tattoo of a tiger. He said something like, ‘I want the girl.' I had the sense that I was watching from someplace nearby, and he wasn't aware I was there. I remember thinking I should try to stop him, to say something, but then the gun went off and there was all this blood. I was afraid to draw attention to myself. The next thing I knew I couldn't breathe, and I started struggling. When I opened my eyes a man was trying to smother me with a pillow. I screamed and he ran. Then you came in."

Jake's gaze met hers. “Was it the same man who was in your dream?"

She hadn't considered that possibility, but how would she know? “I didn't see the shooter's face in my dream, or if I did, it's hidden away in my mind. I suppose it's possible it was the same man, but they sounded different."

“Where were you in the dream? Was it a house, an apartment? Were you outside? What was surrounding you?"

“There was a tile floor -- maybe a kitchen floor. I think I was in a house. I don't remember cupboards or tables or anything specific. I don't even know if it's something that really happened or just a bad dream caused by my head injury."

“Let's go with the theory that it's a memory. The man said he wanted the girl...” Jake's voice faltered. “Do you think he was talking about Caitlyn?"

Sarah's pulse jumped. “I -- I thought he was talking about me, but maybe you're right. Maybe he was talking about Caitlyn. Oh, God!” She put a hand to her mouth, her lips trembling. “I didn't think about that."

“You didn't see Caitlyn in your dream?"

“No. I wasn't aware of anyone but the man holding the gun. I don't even know who was shot. Obviously it wasn't me.” She couldn't stand to think it was her baby. “There was a shadow,” she said, focusing on a new detail appearing in her mind. “It was taller, bigger than a child. I'm sure it wasn't Caitlyn. There had to be someone else in the room, another adult. That's who was shot."

Jake jerked to his feet, pacing back and forth next to her bed. “I don't know what to believe. You lied over and over to me. Hell, you could still be faking this whole amnesia thing."

Anger swept through her. She was getting tired of defending herself, but she was going to do it one last time. “If I were faking, I wouldn't still be here in this hospital. I'd know where Caitlyn was. I'd know who my friends were. I'd be able to call someone to come and get me. I'd be able to look you in the eye and tell you exactly why I left you. More important, I wouldn't be sitting in this hospital bed waiting for someone to try to kill me again, now, would I?"

Jake looked like he wanted to argue, but was interrupted by Rosie. The nurse pushed the door halfway open and said, “The person who called about you was a woman, but she didn't leave her name. I'm sorry. That's all the information I have."

“Thanks,” Sarah said.

“A woman,” Jake echoed as Rosie left. “I hope it was the person who has Caitlyn, but if it was, where is she? Why hasn't she shown up here?"

“Maybe she's far away.” Sarah frowned as Jake suddenly headed toward the door. “Where are you going? Jake?”

* * *

Jake ignored Sarah's call as he ran into the hall, remembering the woman he'd spoken to earlier. She'd said she was waiting for news about someone, but she'd been staring at him, watching him. Had she also listened to his conversation with Dr. Carmichael? They'd moved into the waiting room, but they certainly hadn't shut any doors. It was quite possible she'd heard every word they'd exchanged.

He strode quickly down the corridor, but there was no sign of her anywhere. He checked the waiting room. It was empty. He stopped at the nurses' station, where Rosie was working at a computer.

“Is there something else?” Rosie asked.

“There was a woman here earlier. She had brown hair. She was wearing jeans and a red sweater,” he said, searching his mind for the details. “Do you remember her? She said she was waiting for news about someone. She was standing about three doors down."

“There were a lot of people here during visiting hours,” Rosie replied with an apologetic smile. “She doesn't stand out in my mind."

He sighed. Of course no one had seen the woman. That would have been too easy. He walked back down the hall and paused to speak to the security guard outside Sarah's room. “I'm Jake Sanders. I'm with the woman inside, Sarah Tucker. Will you let me know if anyone approaches you to ask about her condition? And make sure you check the ID on any hospital personnel. The man who attacked Ms. Tucker was dressed as a male nurse."

The guard nodded. “Yes, I'm aware of the situation."

When Jake reentered the room he found Sarah sitting on the edge of her bed, looking as if she were poised to flee. She hadn't put on her shoes, but they were close by, and she was still dressed in her street clothes.

“Where did you go?” she asked.

“I spoke to a woman earlier. She said she was waiting for news about someone, but I suddenly had the thought that maybe she was looking for information about you. She seemed to be watching me."

“Why wouldn't she have come to my room?” Sarah asked.

“Either she wasn't looking for you, or she got the information she needed about where you were, what your condition was."

“My condition?"

“Dr. Carmichael spoke to me about your amnesia. I really have no idea if she heard anything or not, but she's gone now."

Sarah frowned. “Let's see. There are at least two other people besides you who are interested in me -- the man who tried to kill me, and the woman who called to ask about me. I wonder if they're connected or acting independently."

He rolled his neck around on his shoulders, the tension of the past twenty-four hours tying knots in his muscles. When he'd jumped in the car to head south, he'd had no other expectation than to wrap his arms around his daughter and confront Sarah. Now the situation was far more complicated, and he was running as blind as Sarah was.

Sarah played with the bed sheet, twisting her fingers in the white cotton material. She wore no jewelry, no watch, no rings, no necklace. He wondered what she'd done with the jewelry he'd given her -- what she'd done with everything. But there was no point in asking, not now, anyway.

He glanced at his watch. It was almost four thirty. He'd spoken to his brother over an hour and a half ago. Dylan should have checked in by now.

“You want to be out there, don't you?” Sarah asked. “In the search, looking for Caitlyn."

“Hell, yes, I'd like to be out there, but I can't, because I don't trust you not to run.” She didn't bother to deny his statement, which only made him more certain that he had to stick close to her.

“I'd like to be out there, too. It's difficult to wait, to worry, to wonder."

Her words sent his blood pressure through the roof, and all the anger he'd been holding back blew sky high.

“You think it's hard?” he demanded. “You don't know anything about what's hard. I spent the last seven months in torture, wondering where the hell you were."

“I'm --”

“I don't want to hear it,” he said with a wave of his hand. “You are responsible for everything bad that is happening. My daughter wouldn't be in danger right now if you hadn't left me without a word. I would know where she is. I would be protecting her, because I'm her father, a fact you conveniently seemed to forget. What you did was unforgivable. Indefensible. So don't even try, because I will never, ever believe a word you say."

Turning his back on her, he strode toward the window and stared out at the parking lot. He didn't even see the view before him. He was too busy fighting the desire to put his hands on Sarah and shake the truth out of her. So intense was his concentration, it took him a moment to realize that his cell phone was ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw the number for the sheriff's department.

It was about time. “Hello?"

“This is Deputy Manning, Mr. Sanders. We've concluded our search of the canyon, and your daughter is not there."

Jake let out a breath. Finally an answer to something. He was relieved on one hand, but on the other hand he still didn't have his daughter.

“I met with your brother earlier,” Manning continued. “He told me about the private investigation you ran on Ms. Tucker. I also did some checking myself, and Ms. Tucker has no fingerprints on record, no social security number, no credit cards, no paper trail. While it's concerning, it's not criminal -- not yet, anyway. I'll stop by the hospital as soon as I'm done here. Security already filled me in on the alleged attack. Obviously Ms. Tucker is mixed up in something. Hopefully she'll get her memory back soon and will be able to answer our questions."

“What about my daughter? What else are you going to do to find her?"

“We'll discuss that when I get there. The good news is that your daughter wasn't in the car. She's probably tucked away somewhere safe."

“I hope so."

“What did the deputy say?” Sarah asked as he hung up the phone.

He turned back to face her. “They've finished the search. Caitlyn wasn't there. Manning will be down here shortly. He said he hasn't been able to verify your existence, that you've probably been living under another name."

She sat up straight, her brows drawing into a confused frown. “You mean I'm not Sarah Tucker?"

“That's the name you gave me. But like Manning, I never could find any evidence of your existence."

“How is that possible? I thought with the Internet, it was easy to find anyone."

“Not someone intent on hiding, someone very good at covering her tracks. When you disappeared, I discovered that the woman I knew didn't exist. You had given phony references to the café where you worked. You had no credit cards in your name, no bank accounts, not even a driver's license. I never thought to ask if you had a license when you told me you didn't have a car. I never thought to question where you kept your money. After you moved in with me, I paid all the bills."

He walked toward the bed, holding her gaze. “Every investigator I worked with suggested that you had help in disappearing, and that it probably wasn't the first time you'd pulled a vanishing act. You had to have had connections to construct an identity for yourself that allowed you to live freely and yet disappear completely when you were ready to go.” He paused. “But someone somewhere knows who you really are."