Silent Run

guessing you were connected in some way to what happened at the gallery.” He paused. “And I found a photo taken of the three of them. It’s kind of grainy, but I think you’ll be able to recognize Shane.” He turned the laptop computer screen so that it was facing her.
    Sarah stared at the photo of the three men, especially the man in the middle. Her chest tightened and she felt light-headed, dizzy. She put a hand on Jake’s arm to steady herself.
    His eyes narrowed in concern. “Sarah, what’s wrong?"
    His voice seemed very far away. Her vision began to blur. “I... I can’t breathe,” she said, her fingers gripping his arm like a lifeline.
    â€œYes, you can. Just take one breath, then another, slowly,” Jake advised.
    She shook her head, biting down on her lips as a flood of anxiety and adrenaline surged through her bloodstream. “I... I can’t do this."
    â€œWhy not? What did you see? What did you remember?"
    The images of the men flashed through her head. She knew those faces. How did she know them? She’d never gone to Harvard. She was a foster kid. She didn’t move in the circles of the young and privileged. But she had lived in Chicago. And eight years ago they’d gone to prison.
    The faces flashed in front of her again, one of them with a mocking smile. It was someone she knew, someone she’d touched, someone she’d kissed, someone she’d loved.
    â€œOh, God,” she said, her brain spinning out of control. The blackness came at her like a freight train, and she welcomed it with blessed relief. She didn’t want to remember. She couldn’t go back there. She just couldn’t.
    * * *
    â€œShit!” Jake swore as Sarah collapsed on the floor in a crumpled heap. He gathered her in his arms and carried her over to the bed, laying her down on her back. Her face was completely white, drained of any hint of color. The bruises still lingering from her accident stood out in vivid relief, giving her a fragile appearance. Had the information been too much for her? Had he driven her further inside of herself by telling her too much too fast?
    Fear raced through him. What if she didn’t wake up this time? What if he’d pushed her into some deep comatose state where she could continue to hide from her painful memories? What if he never found Caitlyn?
    He shook her shoulders. “Sarah, wake up,” he demanded.
    When she didn’t move, he sat back, wondering what to do next. Would he hurt her more if he tried to wake her up? Did she need to do that in her own time? But how long could he wait?
    Walking into the bathroom, he soaked a washcloth with cool water and took it back to the bed. He placed it on Sarah’s forehead, gently stroking her cheek with his fingers. She didn’t stir at all. He put a hand on her heart, reassured to feel the steady beat beneath his fingers. She was still breathing. She just needed a few minutes, he told himself, and then she’d wake up. She’d tell him what she’d remembered and they’d be able to find Caitlyn.
    But as seconds turned to minutes, he wondered if that was going to happen at all, or if this time he’d lost Sarah forever.
    * * *
    She’d never been to such an elite party. Everyone who was anyone in Chicago was there. And so was she. She felt like pinching herself. Was this her life now? Fabulous parties, rich friends, families with blood ties dating back to the Mayflower? It hardly seemed possible. She’d spent so many years on her own, on the edge of -- if not in -- a state of homelessness. But one chance meeting with a sexy, sophisticated man and her entire life had changed.
    Victor Pennington was her Prince Charming, her dark-haired, dark-eyed, half-Russian prince, and she was Cinderella at the ball, only her dress wasn’t going to turn to rags, nor would the stretch limo change into a pumpkin. This was real. Victor loved her. He said she was his lucky charm, and she’d never been anyone’s charm, lucky or otherwise.
    He probably wouldn’t think she was lucky if he knew who she really was. She shouldn’t have lied to him, but whenever she had the chance to be someone else, she usually took it. She and Teresa had pretended to be lots of different people during their trip across the country. It was fun, a lark. She’d been a struggling country-western singer in Nashville. Teresa had been a supermodel on the