You Can't Hide

by Theresa Sneed

  Placing her hands on her hips, she peered out at the trees and well maintained landscaping surrounding the cabin. “Sally, are you out here?” She heard the screen door open. A sigh of relief escaped her throat. “Oh, Sally,” she said, turning toward the door.

  Her hear plummeted when Gwen and Joe came through the door. Desperate, her voice rose in pitch. “Is Sally with you?”

  Papa waved her down. “Calm down. I’m sure she’s here somewhere.” He looked back at the house. “I’ll search inside.”

  Gwen wrung her hands. “How long has Sally been missing?”

  “I don’t know. I went to check on her a little while ago, and she wasn’t in her bed.” She swallowed hard. “I’ll keep looking out here.”

  Gwen looked out toward the lake. “I’ll help you.”

  They searched the garden shed and then the path that wove through the sparse trees toward the lake. Karen’s voice quivered. “She wouldn’t go to the lake, would she?”

  Gwen made fists at her sides. “She knows not to, but we’re checking it anyway.”

  After searching the lake and seeing no sign of the little girl, they returned to the cabin. Gwen was in tears. Karen fought against crying. Surely, Sally was asleep somewhere inside and hadn’t heard their calls.

  The screen door slammed behind them. Joe glanced their way, and then he returned to his phone call. “Hurry, Sheriff.” He hung up. “He’ll be right out with all the men he can muster. In the meantime, let’s spread out and keep looking.”

  Sheriff Higgins arrived in no time, followed by three police cars. Up in Sally’s room, John held his hand up, preventing Gwen from touching anything.

  Gwen’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”

  John frowned. As the wife of a former police officer, Gwen should know why. “It’s just precautionary,” he said.

  Gwen backed away. “Yes, of course, but,” her voice quivered. “Do you think someone broke in here?”

  With gloves on his hands, he searched Sally’s bed. “Probably not, Gwen, but we have to investigate.”

  His eyebrows rose. “What’s this?” Bending over, he picked up a crumpled package. “I thought Joe quit smoking.”

  Gwen tilted her head to the side. “Yes, years ago.” Karen stepped into the room. Gwen looked up at her. “You don’t smoke, do you, Karen?”

  Karen stared at the crumpled cigarette package. “No.”

  John removed a plastic bag from his pocket and dropped the package inside. He looked around the room, his eyes drawn to the billowing curtains. His face paled. “Where’s the screen?”

  Five

  Missing

  Louise and Sam Sr. stayed for a few hours, each taking their turn with Elle, who would not leave Sam’s side.

  “Come with us while we get something to eat?” Sam Sr. said.

  “No, I’m good.” Elle glanced at his son. “Will you be back?”

  “Yes, dear, we’ll be back, and we’ll stay as long as you need.” He hugged her, patted Sam’s foot, and then left.

  Elle stared out the hospital window. “It’s just you and me, Sam.” She ran her trembling fingers over his bandaged forehead. “Just you and me . . .” her voice trailed off, “. . . and Sally.” Talk to him normal, Elle, she thought. “So, Sam, don’t think you’re getting out of marrying me.” He couldn’t see her sad face, nor hear anything but humor in her voice. I’ll talk to him just like nothing is wrong.

  “Anyhow, I didn’t show you the colors for our wedding on purpose, but I guess I’ll tell you about them now. You know how I love the outdoors, and I know how much you love it, too. So, I wanted the colors of nature—the deep blue of the ocean, the browns of bark and pinecone, the red of berries, and the peach of, well, a peach.”’ She forced a smile. “I’m not sure how Mama will react to it, but it’s my—er, our wedding, and we need to choose what we want. Right?” She kissed him lightly. “And I have it from a good source that you’re okay with whatever I choose.”

  She got up and paced the small room to the beat of the heart monitor. “You’ve got,” she counted on her fingers, “eight weeks to get better—eight weeks before I am Mrs. Samuel Hancock, Jr.” The corner of her lip turned up in a weak grin. “You’ve got to recover, Sam, please,” she pleaded, in a whisper.

  Continuing her pacing, she went on. “Anyhow, we’re beginning to get RSVP’s back on our wedding. Thirty so far, that’s pretty good, right?” It seemed good to her, after all the wedding was still eight weeks away.

  “Nancy made Sally’s flower girl dress. She sent me a picture.” She picked her purse up off the floor and looked through it. “Here it is.” Pulling the picture from her purse, she put it front of Sam’s face then sighed. “Beings you’re being stubborn about opening your eyes, I’ll describe it. It fans out at the bottom, just like my dress. Opps, you’re not supposed to know that.” She frowned. I wish you could hear me, Sam. “Anyhow, it’s light yellow, like the sun, and has daisies embroidered all over it. She looks so cute in it.” She stared at the picture then slipped it back into her purse.

  “Mama has been bugging me about the food though. What do you think, Sam?” She laughed. “Oh wait, I remember what you said, “burgers would be just fine.” She smirked. “Mama would go through the roof, if I told her that.” It would almost be worth it. “But on second thought, why not? Why don’t we just grill out, on the ocean front, by my parent’s beach house in San Diego?” I love it there.

  “Just imagine it, Sam, the ocean lapping up against the beach, and we can get married barefoot.” Wouldn’t that make her mother cringe, especially since she had purchased very expensive shoes for both herself and the bride?

  Elle pulled a chair beside the bed. She sat down and leaned her chin on top of her hands on the bedrail. Lowered the bedrail, she pulled closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Sam,” she said sadly. “Can you hear me?” Sighing, she pulled away and leaned back against the chair. Yawning, she closed her eyes. It had been a long day and an even longer night before that. She reached out and held his hand.

  Somewhere in her dreams, she heard his voice. “I’ll wear a couple pinecones for a boutonniere.”

  “What a lovely idea,” she mumbled, not wanting to wake up from the dream.

  “But, no burgers, I want your mother to like me, Elle.” He squeezed her hand.

  “Mmm, nice,” she said, and he laughed, then groaned from the effort. That woke her, and she sat up. “Sam?” she whispered. He grinned, grimaced from the pain, and then grinned again. “Sam,” she yelled and fell into him, but pulled back, when he gasped from pain. Tears fell fast. She ran to the door and yelled, “Sam!” Soon, the room was bustling with doctors and nurses.

  “Well, I’ll be,” the nurse said. “It’s a miracle for sure.”

  Elle stepped out of the room, while the doctor examined him. Elated beyond words, she beamed and laughed out loud.

  Six

  Victim

  Todd McGuire flipped through the textbook, closed it, and then set it on the desk in front of him. His gaze fell to the overturned portrait of Karen—his ex-girlfriend. Unable to toss it in the garbage, it had laid there for weeks. He’d been sure they’d marry one day. She was everything he wanted in a girl, smart, pretty, talented, and good natured.

  He was shocked when a package delivered to him revealed her true nature. The envelope within the package contained a single picture of Karen, in a compromising position. It disgusted and angered him. Why that, Karen? How could you?

  He had trusted her completely—given her his heart and soul. And to top that off, she wouldn’t even talk to him about it, wouldn’t answer his calls or letters. She completely cut him off, harboring resentment toward him, as if it had been his fault.

  A knock at the door pulled him back. He rose to answer it, and was surprised to find Freddie Sampson, one of the campus police standing there. “Good morning,” Officer Sampson said.

  “Good morning, Freddie.” Todd gestured for him to enter the flat. �
��What’s up?” Freddie was a good friend. Married to one of Karen’s best friends, they hung out together a lot, at least before Karen left for the states.

  “Listen, I’m not supposed to tell you this, as it’s under investigation, but I have to.” He paced the floor. “In fact, there’s no way I wouldn’t.” He sat down at the kitchen table and placed a soiled manila folder on it. “I’m on my way to headquarters to bring in this evidence. Once they have it, there will be no way you’ll ever see it, for the time being at least.” Slipping a pair of gloves over his hands, he tossed Todd a pair, and then tapped the grimy folder. “Anyhow, it’s quite disturbing.”

  Todd drew his head back and pulled the gloves on. “Why in the world would you be showing me evidence? Evidence of what?” He reached over and opened the folder, and there in front of him was the very picture that had been sent to him weeks ago, only there were others with it. He jumped out of his seat. “Why to heck do you think I’d want to see these pictures?” He closed the folder and slapped his hand down on it.

  “This is why she left, isn’t it?”

  “Look, this is too painful for me. I really don’t want to talk about it. Wait.” He looked up at him. “Why is this evidence?”

  “They were found in a dumpster on campus. A student reported a strange odor coming from it, like something was dead inside.” He made a face. “We’ve had problems with dead animals being disposed in the dumpsters. It turned out to be more than one dead animal—looks like we’ve got cruelty to animals going on somewhere on this campus,” he said, with a pronounced grimace. “The folder was pressed up against the inside of the dumpster. I removed it, looking for the animal carcasses on the bottom, and well, you need to look at it.”

  “First off, why would these pictures be any sort of evidence?”

  Freddie tapped his fingers on the table. “Because this kind of debauchery is happening on our campus, and it probably means more than you and Karen are its victims.”

  “What?” Todd leaned over the photos. His eyes widened in surprise. He grabbed the side of the table and stared down at a photo of himself kissing someone he’d never seen in his life. “Whoa,” he said, sitting down slowly. He picked up the photograph. “How? Why?” He gave Freddie a blank stare. “I don’t even know who this woman is.”

  “I believe you, but Karen probably didn’t.” He pointed to the picture of Karen with another man. “And she probably doesn’t know him either.” Taking another picture in his hands, Freddie laid it down beside the lurid one of Karen. It was an ordinary photo of her laying on the floor in front of the couch watching television. Side-by-side, it was clear that the image of Karen in the questionable photograph was the same picture of Karen laying on the floor, overlaid on top of it. If you looked close enough, you could see the couch in the background behind her, and that the lower part of the body in the picture wasn’t even hers.

  Todd put his elbows on the table and leaned into his fists. “Why would someone . . .?” He shook his head. “Do you have any idea who did this?”

  “No.”

  He stood. “I need to show Karen.”

  “I can’t let you take them, but, if you promise that you will not show anyone else but Karen, I can let you take pictures of them.”

  Seven

  Bittersweet

  Elle sat by Sam’s bed. He moaned in his sleep and she reached over and patted his hand. Even though he’d come out of the coma, the doctors warned her that it’d take time for him to be back to normal. Still, how could she feel anything but tremendous joy and relief? She was sure the worst was over.

  A shadow appeared in the doorway—Sheriff Higgins, one of Sam’s best friends. He must have heard about Sam coming out of the coma, so why was he frowning?

  Excited to tell him the news, she jumped up. “Haven’t you heard?” She walked toward him. Still, John did not smile.

  “John?”

  He glanced at Sam asleep on the bed. His face was grim. “Follow me, Elle.” She obeyed, a strange numbness creeping up her sides. She went with John into an empty room down the hall, where they were joined by Gwen and Joe, who had just arrived, along with Karen, Sam Sr. and Louise. Sally wasn’t there, and it surprised her that they could’ve gotten her on a return flight so quickly.

  At first, she was elated to see everyone—she’d only managed a brief telephone call letting them know Sam’s miracle, but the looks on their faces stymied her.

  “John?” she asked, perplexed.

  Louise broke out in tears, followed by Gwen. Karen looked as though she might burst into tears, too. Suddenly, Elle got it, without a word being spoken. Sam’s recovery must be tantamount to a cruel trick. Was there internal damage beyond his control?—paralysis? “What? What’s wrong?”

  Grammie placed a trembling hand on her shoulder. “She’s gone.”

  She? The blood froze in Elle’s veins. “Who?”

  Grammie wiped at a rush of tears. “We can’t find Sally anywhere.”

  Never in her life had words struck with so much force. This must be a dream—a nightmare. But no, she was awake. Her family surrounded her, offering pale words of comfort, where no comfort could be given. A long wail escaped her throat, and then she collapsed.

  Sam Sr. knelt down in front of her. He wrapped his arms around her trembling body. “The whole town’s searching, Elle. We’re going to find her.”

  “Sally,” Elle cried, sobbing.

  This couldn’t be happening. Just seconds ago, she was beyond joy with Sam’s burgeoning recovery. But now, the bliss was snatched from her. Plunged into deep sorrow, like a thick blanket of darkness; it stifled the joy, leaving nothing more than a smoldering memory.

  She could barely get her next words out. “The lake?” She should never have left Sally at the cabin. What did Karen know about children? No, Elle. Stop now. Stop. Don’t blame Karen.

  John appeared to choose his next words carefully, looking first at Joe, and then at Elle. “No, not the lake, Elle.”

  She grasped his shirt. “What do you mean? Tell me, John.”

  He seemed resolved, but hesitant to continue, as if he didn’t want to tell her what he knew. “We, uh, we found evidence that the cabin was broken into last night.”

  Violent tremors raced through her body. “What?” She dropped her hands. “Evidence?”

  “The window screen was popped out, and a cigarette package was crumpled on the floor by her bed.”

  She trembled violently. “No. Sally probably found it somewhere.”

  “Elle,” Papa Joe said. “Where would she have gotten it, Sweetheart? None of us smoke.”

  Angry, she slammed her fists into his chest. “You’re wrong. You’re wrong.” This was crazy. What did they think—that Sally had been abducted? Breathing heavily, she looked from one to the other. All at once, it hit her. The evidence was too real, too unlike Sally, and she knew that some beast, some horrifying person had snatched her Sally away. In fits of sobs, she fell into her grandfather’s chest, squeezing the material on his sleeves tight in her fists.

  After long hugs and anguished tears, most of her family left. Papa followed them out, but Grammie stayed behind. She patted the couch beside her and Elle sat down. Resting her head against her grandmother’s shoulder, she sobbed. “Why, Grammie?”

  Grammie caressed her hair. “I don’t know, Love.” After a while, she said, “Why don’t you lay down for a bit—get some rest?”

  She glanced up at her grandmother’s troubled eyes. “No, Grammie. I couldn’t possibly sleep.”

  Quivering in fright, Elle imagined what Sally could be up against. Grammie tried to console her, but she couldn’t dissuade the anguish pressing into her heart. Finally, she sat up straight. “I’m going to go see Sam, and then I’m going to find my daughter.”

  “I’ll go with you, but,” Grammie paused, “Sam hasn’t been told about Sally’s disappearance yet.”

  Maybe they left that arduous task to her. “Why not?”

  “The docto
r thought it best not to distress him this early in his recovery.”

  She swallowed hard. “Yes, of course.” How selfish of me. It made sense, but not having Sam to confide her worst fears to, meant that the extreme suffering brewing inside her would fester like a boil, finding no relief or comfort.

  Papa returned. “I just checked on Sam. He’s fast asleep. The doctor came in and told me the meds he’s on are going to keep him sedated.”

  It was settled then. “I’m going to look for Sally.”

  When they arrived at the cabin, they found it swarming with people searching for the little girl. It should have brought Elle comfort, but instead it added to her frustration. She avoided as many as she could, but finally couldn’t take it any longer. “Stop saying you’re sorry! We are going to find her!” Embarrassed by her sudden outburst, she pulled away from the crowd to a secluded glen of trees. Grammie Gwen followed her there.

  Gwen pulled her close and stroked her hair. “Get some rest, sweetie, and then go back to Sam.”

  Right. Like I’m going to leave, she thought.

  After the crowds left, Elle continued walking the beaches and worn paths by the cabin, weary and unrested. She made her way down the path to the lake and stared out over the moonlit waters. Intense horror struck her heart. She’s not here, she thought, at last accepting the fact, that whoever had taken Sally, had taken her far away. She fell to the ground and wept.

  Grammie Gwen followed Elle out to the driveway. She handed Elle a set of keys. “Take my car, Sweetie.” Elle clung to Gwen, and then said goodbye. She got into the car for the long drive to Bangor, wondering how she would be able to keep a false persona in front of the man she loved. Leaning her head back in the seat, she fought the tears. Her eyes were already puffy and red. She’d have to tell him about Sally.