Silent Run

where I usually work,” Amanda said. “Teaching aerobics isn’t exactly a full-time job; I pick up classes all over the place. I was later getting back than I thought I would be.” She paused. “I still can’t believe someone set fire to the building. Everything I owned is gone. I have nothing but the clothes I had in my car and at the gym."
    â€œI’m so sorry,” Sarah said. “I’m sure the fire was set to get me out of the building."
    â€œYou must be in a hell of a lot of trouble,” Amanda said. “But at least you escaped. Everything else can be replaced. I’m used to starting over. I can do it again. Where are you going now? Can I help?"
    Sarah glanced at Jake. His gaze was fixed on Amanda, suspicion in his eyes. He didn’t believe her. Why not?
    â€œWe’re not sure,” Jake said, answering for her. “What about you?"
    â€œThe Red Cross is offering temporary shelter. I’ll probably check that out. Why don’t you come with me?” Amanda suggested. “Let your ex hang on his own for a while, just in case he’s not who you think he is."
    â€œI can’t do that,” Sarah said, not sure why Amanda was trying to get her on her own. The fact that Amanda had lied to her once concerned her. “Let me make sure I have your cell phone number in case I need to reach you."
    â€œI’ll put it in my phone,” Jake said as Amanda gave him her number. “And why don’t you take mine as well in case you think of anything else that might help us find Caitlyn.” He recited his number for her.
    Amanda turned to leave. “Stay safe, Samantha."
    â€œI’m going to try."
    Sarah waited until she heard the front door of the house close before she spoke. “What do you think?"
    â€œThat Amanda was hiding something,” he said. “None of her emotions ring true."
    â€œI agree. Her apartment just went up in smoke, and she didn’t seem all that concerned."
    â€œShe knew Mrs. Murphy but wasn’t that upset about what had happened to her."
    â€œMaybe she’s just had time to come to terms with it,” Sarah said, not sure what they were both trying to get at. Obviously Amanda had rubbed them the wrong way.
    â€œShe had an explanation for everything, but no real answers,” Jake said. He put his hands on his hips and let out a sigh. “I certainly wasn’t expecting her to show up here. Let’s take a look around. If you came here with Caitlyn, maybe you left some other clue behind as to where you were going next."
    They walked back into the living room. Sarah stood in the middle of the room. Her gaze moved to a music box on the end table by the window. The lid was up. She crossed the room, knowing what she was going to find. “It’s empty,” she murmured.
    â€œWhat was in it?” Jake asked
    â€œMoney. Mrs. Murphy always kept cash under the fake bottom. It was for emergencies -- for her kids.” Sarah looked at Jake. “This wasn’t open when we first got here."
    â€œMaybe that’s why Amanda came."
    â€œYou’re right. She wasn’t looking for me; she was looking for cash. Let’s go to the hospital. I want to see Mrs. Murphy."
    * * *
    An hour later Sarah walked into a room on the third floor of St. Francis Hospital. Eleanor Murphy was lying on her back in a bed by the window. Her brown hair was streaked with gray. Her eyes were closed, but her lids were purple with the same bruises that filled the space across her cheekbones. Her skin was fair and dotted with freckles. Her arms and legs were immobile. If it weren’t for the faint movement of her chest, Sarah would have thought Mrs. Murphy was already dead.
    It was her fault the woman was in a coma. Someone had wanted to find her, and they’d used Mrs. Murphy to do it. Had they tortured the woman to get the information out of her? It certainly looked like someone had used her face as a punching bag.
    It was suddenly too much for Sarah to take in. She turned into Jake’s embrace, resting her head on his chest, closing her eyes against the pain and guilt sweeping through her.
    Jake put his arms around her body and gave her a reassuring squeeze. He stroked her hair and said, “It’s going to be all right."
    The words echoed those she’d heard over and over again in a lilting Irish brogue.
    â€œYou’re going to be all right, Jessica. You’re going to