Silent Run

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."
    â€œThen, dammit, you’d better remember where the hell you left her,” he said grimly. “Every second counts, Sarah."
    â€œI’m trying. What else can I do? Everyone keeps telling me to sleep, but each time I do there’s a new nightmare."
    â€œTell 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."
    â€œWhere were you in the dream? Was it a house, an apartment? Were you outside? What was surrounding you?"
    â€œThere 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."
    â€œLet’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."
    â€œYou didn’t see Caitlyn in your dream?"
    â€œNo. 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."
    â€œThanks,” Sarah said.
    â€œA 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?"
    â€œMaybe 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,