Silent Run

memories to come flooding back now that she knew her name, her past, but where was the rest? “That’s all I know,” she said in amazement. “Why don’t I remember everything?"
    Jake’s eyes filled with disappointment and frustration, and he bit down on his bottom lip, probably to stop himself from swearing at her. She didn’t blame him for his anger. She wanted her memory back now.
    â€œOkay. You said you were here. Why?” he asked.
    â€œI stayed here in between foster homes. Mrs. Murphy was taking me to another house, and I didn’t want to go, but she said I’d be safe and that if I ever had a problem I could come to her. I felt like I cared a lot about her."
    â€œMaybe you did come to her. Maybe you came here when you ran away from me."
    â€œDo you think so? My memory was from so long ago. I was a child."
    Jake looked back the house. “We need to get inside."
    â€œWe can’t break into her house."
    â€œSomeone did,” he said, tipping his head toward the broken window.
    â€œIt was probably just a baseball or something."
    â€œMaybe there’s a back door. Or a hiding place for a key.” He put his hands on his hips as he stepped back and surveyed the porch.
    Her heart skipped a beat. “What did you say?"
    â€œA hiding place for a key,” he repeated.
    She swallowed hard, something tugging at her memory. “Third flowerpot on the right,” she said.
    Jake moved down the steps and glanced at the flowerpots lined up along the front path.
    â€œIn the dirt,” she said, “not underneath the pot."
    He dug his hands into the dirt and pulled out a key. “Good job, Sarah."
    â€œI don’t know how I knew that."
    â€œDoesn’t matter. We’re going in."
    â€œIt still feels wrong. This is someone else’s home, and maybe someone I haven’t seen since I was a child."
    â€œShe told you where you could always find a key. I don’t think she’ll get angry if you’re here."
    Jake slid the key into the lock and opened the door. Sarah felt another wave of fear wash over her. Was her uneasiness coming from the past or the sense that something was wrong with this little house and the broken window?
    She stepped into the living room and paused, staring around at the comfortable furnishings. There was a big brown leather chair in the corner with a rumpled afghan on the seat, just like the chair in her memory. She wandered over to the fireplace mantel. There were dozens of photographs, all children. Her gaze caught on one in particular, three girls, one blonde, one redhead, one brunette. They were sitting on a merry-go-round at a park. Across the bottom of the photo were scrawled two words: My girls .
    Her heart stopped and she picked up the photo and pressed it to her heart. She knew those girls -- what were their names? “Catherine and Teresa,” she said, looking at the picture again. “And that’s me in the middle."
    Jake moved across the room to join her. He took the photo from her hand. “You must be about eleven or twelve. What else do you know?"
    His eyes were encouraging, supportive, but her memory was seeping in slowly, uncertainly. “We lived together at the Garrisons’. Catherine was the oldest. She took care of me. She’s the redhead. Teresa was a tomboy. We were all really different, but we had one thing in common: We were alone in the world, except for one another.” She let out a sigh. “Mrs. Murphy was kind, caring. She tried really hard to make things right."
    Sarah stopped talking to gaze around the room. “I wonder where she is. Something is wrong.” She shook her head as new details in the room jumped out at her: the coffee mug with the red lipstick stain on the table in front of the couch, the half-eaten bagel on the plate next to it. “Mrs. Murphy never left food out."
    She picked up the plate and mug and headed toward the kitchen, following her instincts. But as she pushed open the kitchen door, she stopped dead in her tracks. On the floor was a large dark red stain that looked like... The mug fell from her hand. “Oh, my God!”
    Jake pushed past her. He knelt down next to the stain, then stared up at her. “It’s blood."
    She put a hand to her chest in horror. “Something happened to Mrs. Murphy."
    â€œDo you know that, Sarah, or are you guessing?"
    â€œI... I’m not sure."
    Jake got up and walked over to