Silent Run

so I could go on with my life. He didn’t stick around to help me get there. He said I was obsessed and crazy. But that wasn’t just because of Jessica. He didn’t like that I could see things about him."
    â€œWhat kind of things?"
    â€œJust things that made him uncomfortable. I have a sense about people sometimes. And I get feelings about events that might happen."
    â€œYou’re psychic?"
    â€œAnd you’re a skeptic. I’m not surprised,” she returned. “Most people are, especially reporters like you."
    â€œI don’t think I said I was a reporter,” he replied, feeling more than a little uncomfortable with her accurate assessment.
    She gave him a little smile. “You are, aren’t you?"
    â€œIt could be a lucky guess."
    â€œSure,” she said. “Whatever you say. I’m used to people doubting me, getting nervous when they’re around me."
    And everything she was saying was making him nervous. Was she nuts or giving him a real lead to follow?
    â€œIt’s funny that your friend’s name is Sarah,” Catherine continued. “Jessica had a grandmother named Sarah who lived in Boston. Jessie kept waiting for her grandmother to come and rescue her, but she never did."
    Boston ! His gut turned over. Sarah had told him she’d lived in Boston with her grandparents after her parents had died in an accident. Was that just a fabrication, an embellishment of the fantasy she carried in her head after she was abandoned? It was enough of a connection to send a jolt of adrenaline through his bloodstream.
    â€œI think we’d better sit down and talk this out,” he said decisively. “I want to know everything there is to know about Jessica, including her last name."
    * * *
    As Jake drove down the Pacific Coast Highway past Malibu and Santa Monica, heading for Venice Beach, Sarah soaked up the images of Southern California sunshine, swaying palm trees, in-line skaters, skateboarders, bicyclists, and joggers crowding the cement path that ran alongside the beach. Umbrellas, beach towels, and sunbathers filled the wide, sandy beaches, and surfers rode the large waves out by the Santa Monica Pier. It was a beautiful spring day, the kind of day that made her feel that something good was about to happen, that anything was possible. Her sense of optimism surprised her. But there was no denying the fact that she still had hope she’d find the answers to all her questions and that she’d hold her daughter in her arms very soon.
    Her body had been battered. Her memory was in hibernation, but her fighting spirit was gaining strength. She was going to survive this. The voice in her head refused to let her think otherwise.
    As they drove through the city she studied each street sign, each building, searching for something familiar to jog her memory. Her nerves tightened with each passing block. She began to feel on edge, wary. But she didn’t know why.
    She glanced into the side-view mirror, repeating an action she had done many times in the past few hours. Looking over her shoulder felt natural to her, too, as if it were part of her normal existence. Unfortunately there was a ton of traffic, and it was impossible to tell whether the cars behind them were on their tail or just going about their business.
    â€œWe’re almost there,” Jake said, checking the map they’d picked up at a gas station. “With any luck, maybe we’ll find your past and my daughter before this day is over."
    Sarah didn’t like that he referred to Caitlyn as his daughter, but she’d save that battle for another time. She didn’t know what to make of Jake or the way she’d left him. She wanted to believe she’d had a good reason, but so far that reason eluded her. She’d seen no hint of violence in Jake. Anger, yes, definitely. And his words could cut like a knife. But she’d never felt physically afraid of him. He could be putting his best foot forward, hiding his dark side, but she didn’t really think so. His emotions were too raw, his pain too real. He hurt too much over the loss of his daughter. And even perhaps her own betrayal. Despite the fact that he professed not to care about her at all anymore, sometimes she wondered if he wasn’t trying to make that true, rather than it already being true.
    And then there were her own feelings, an odd stirring whenever she looked at him. On some elemental level she