Silent Run

him, folding his arms across his chest. He looked like he was settling in for the night.
    â€œAre you going to sleep in your clothes?” he asked.
    â€œI think so,” she replied. The hospital gown made her feel far too vulnerable. She wanted to be ready to flee at a moment’s notice. “Where’s your brother?"
    â€œLooking for a motel. He has his computer with him, so he’s going to get on the Net tonight and see what he can find out about some of the clues you’ve given us -- the tiger tattoo and the idea that you may have been involved in some sort of press-worthy case."
    â€œYou told him about that?"
    He met her gaze. “He’s my brother. I’d trust him with my life -- and yours,” he added.
    â€œHe doesn’t like me."
    â€œNo, he doesn’t. He suspected you were lying to me long before you left, but I didn’t listen. In fact, I kicked him out of our home and said he didn’t know what he was talking about. Fortunately Dylan doesn’t hold a grudge. As soon as you disappeared with Caitlyn he came back, and he’s worked tirelessly to help me find you."
    Sarah looked away from Jake’s bitter gaze. She didn’t want to talk about her disappearance. She didn’t want to hear again how she’d destroyed their lives. Instead she wanted to go a little farther back, find a way to understand the life Jake had told her about. She hit the mute button on the television and asked, “How did we meet?"
    He frowned. “That’s not important, and I don’t want to get into the past with you."
    â€œYou’re going to have to, Jake. I need to remember my life, and you’re the only one who has any information. Maybe something you tell me will bring my memory back. That’s what we both want, isn’t it?"
    Jake sighed and stared down at the floor for a long moment. He cracked the knuckles on his left hand, then his right. As she watched him, something fluttered deep within her. She’d seen him do this before when he was stressed, and she had the feeling that she’d worried about him, which surprised her. Jake was a big, strong guy, smart, more than able to speak his mind and to stand up for himself. So where would the anxiety have come from? Love?
    He’d told her that they’d had a passionate romance, but it was difficult to believe, not just because she didn’t remember him, but also because he didn’t act like he loved her. He was so cold to her. She got a chill whenever he came near. Had his love disappeared with her hasty departure from his life? Or had something happened before that?
    â€œWe met in a café down the street from my office,” Jake said abruptly, lifting his gaze to hers. “You’d just started working as a waitress. I used to get lunch there on a regular basis. My architectural firm was down the street."
    â€œWhat do you design?"
    â€œCommercial buildings. But the day we met I was working on a personal project, a house I was planning to build. You were fascinated by the process and told me how much you loved houses, and you were dying to see some of the famous Victorians in the city. I offered to give you a tour, since you said you’d just moved to town and didn’t know anyone. You didn’t accept at first, but after a couple of invitations you said yes."
    So she’d been cautious at first -- that felt right to her. “Go on."
    â€œThe next weekend we spent all day Saturday looking at houses; then we moved on to the Transamerica Pyramid, Coit Tower, and the old bank buildings on Market Street,” Jake continued. “When we were done, we went to dinner and talked for hours.” He paused, an odd light coming into his eyes. “Actually, I didn’t realize until after you left me how much I talked and you listened. At any rate, we went out again the next night for dinner, and by the weekend we were in bed together."
    His words were so pragmatic, but the actions he described were romantic, passionate, whirlwind, and not at all cautious. “That fast?” she murmured.
    â€œYou said I swept you off your feet,” he replied, his voice now laced with disbelief. “In retrospect you must have had an ulterior motive."
    â€œLike what? Are you rich? Was it about money? Did I steal from you when I left?"
    â€œYou took a couple hundred dollars out of the dresser drawer in our bedroom, but you didn’t have access to my