Silent Run

the room.
    Dylan paused as he reached the center of the living room. He’d never seen so much junk in his life, a dozen or more glass figures dotting the tables, assorted wood boxes of every size imaginable, seashells, statues, books, magazines. Almost every available space was covered with something. Two cats slumbered on each end of the couch, and a bird chirped from a cage in the corner. Maybe his initial impression wasn’t that far off.
    He saw that Catherine had turned her dining room into an art studio. An easel was set up in front of a picture window that looked out at the sea.
    â€œYou’re an artist,” he said, crossing the room. On the easel was a portrait of a young girl sitting in a meadow filled with yellow wildflowers. The painting was only half-done, but the girl’s light blue eyes were wide and startled, and a little familiar. An uneasy feeling ran down his spine. Were those Sarah’s eyes looking back at him? “Is this your friend?"
    â€œYes,” Catherine replied. “That’s Jessica. I paint her all the time from memory. She’s been gone eight years now -- well, ten since I last saw her, eight since she officially vanished."
    â€œWhat do you mean, officially vanished?"
    â€œJessica disappeared when she was twenty years old.” Catherine traced one finger lovingly around the edge of the face in the portrait. “I miss her so much."
    â€œCan you tell me what happened?” Dylan prodded, sensing that she was drifting away. For a moment he didn’t think Catherine would answer. She seemed lost in a reverie. Finally she looked at him, her eyes filled with sadness and regret.
    â€œJessie called me about a week before she vanished. She said she was in trouble and that she’d made a horrible mistake. She was terribly afraid. That was the message she left on my answering machine. I was in New York at the time and away that weekend. By the time I got the message and called her back, Jessie was gone. I called her apartment nonstop for a couple of days, and then someone finally called me -- her neighbor. The woman told me that Jessica hadn’t shown up for work for the past four nights, nor had she been home, and they were worried about her. They’d found my number written on a piece of paper in her bedroom."
    â€œI assume there was a search?” he queried.
    â€œA short one. The police couldn’t find any evidence of foul play, so they said it was possible she’d simply gone elsewhere. Eventually her file was set aside."
    Dylan felt his stomach turn over. The way Jessica had disappeared was almost exactly the same way Sarah had left his brother.
    â€œI flew to Chicago to look for her,” Catherine continued.
    â€œWhy Chicago?” he interrupted.
    â€œThat’s where Jessica was living at the time."
    He shook his head, thinking this trip was going to be a waste of time, but then he reminded himself that no one knew where Sarah had been living before she arrived in San Francisco. Chicago was as good a town as any. “Never mind, go on,” he said.
    â€œI went to Jessica’s apartment and the law office where she worked as a receptionist. No one had seen her in days. And no one seemed to know anything about her personal life, if she had a boyfriend, what she did after work. Jessica hadn’t confided in anyone, which wasn’t all that unusual, but her innate sense of privacy didn’t help when she went missing.” Catherine paused. “Jessica had told me a few weeks earlier that she’d met someone -- the kind of man she’d always dreamed about. In fact, that’s why she stayed in Chicago. She was originally only going to be there a few days. Jessica and this other friend of ours, Teresa, were driving across country -- they were going to meet up with me in New York, but the car broke down. They didn’t have any money, so they got jobs until they could fix the car. Then Jessica met someone and decided to stay."
    â€œWhat happened to the other girl?” Dylan asked.
    â€œTeresa didn’t like Chicago all that much. She decided to go home to California. At least, that’s the last I heard from Jessica. At any rate, I spent two weeks in Chicago, hoping Jessica would show up, but she never did. Eventually the police told me to go home. They said they’d contact me if anything came up. When I got back to New York, the dreams began to come every night. Jessie was