You Can't Hide

by Theresa Sneed

  She stared at her words for a while. That affirmation was straight out of her life, but she hadn’t realized it until now. She put pen back to paper.

  That’s a fact, sweetheart. But, the good news is that if you make up your mind to get out of the cycle, things will begin to happen to you that you’d never believed were possible. I promise this is true.

  First of all, you will feel better—physically and emotionally. Overeating drains you. It makes you tired, makes you feel bad about yourself, and makes you feel bad about those around you.

  Sure the kids that are making fun of you are wrong, but, now, here’s the hard part, don’t get angry at me for writing this, but, you’re even more wrong than they are. Harsh. I know. But true.

  You’re not taking care of yourself—and you’re the only one that can take care of you.

  You’re overeating, not them, and you’re blaming them for your choices.

  You’re letting them have power over you – why, sweetie?

  Until you decide to take charge of yourself, this cycle will continue. Stop it now, and watch your body transform—it’s simple, laws of nature, Patricia—trust them. I suggest low calories, exercise, and no snacking – there’s no magic pill needed, just sensible eating.

  I care,

  Keep in Touch,

  Karin

  She read it and then reread it again. Still worried that there was more meaning to Patty’s letter, she decided to not seal it yet. She’d found a wooden bench behind a short brick wall, lined with flowering vines. Spring had hit Massachusetts and everything was in bloom. Looking over the short wall, she saw Sofia at the white table. A wave of relief flowed over her—Sofia would know what to do about Patty’s cryptic note.

  She didn’t follow proper protocol when approaching Sofia, just waved the letter in her face, and said in an exasperated voice, “How can you tell if they’re, you know, in trouble?”

  Sofia looked up at her. She seemed slightly perturbed to be interrupted during her writing, but when she saw it was Nancy, she smiled.

  “Nancy. So good to see you.” Her eyes fell to the note in Nancy’s hand. “Oh, Patty’s letter.”

  Nancy sat down. “Oh, you know?”

  She shrugged. “Of course.” She stood and motioned for Nancy to follow her to a more private place, where their talking wouldn’t disturb the others. Over in a corner away from earshot of the ladies, she said, “All of the letters are perused before getting to us. They are handpicked. Any letter that seems suspicious is investigated—Patty’s was. I went to see her myself, well, from afar,” she added. “Her therapist has a copy of her note and though she cannot discuss it with me, assured me that Patty is fine. Apparently, she’s a bit melodramatic, but they are watching her, and giving her the counsel that she needs.”

  “Huh.” Relieved, Nancy sighed. “I had wondered how we got all these letters. Who handpicks them, and how do the women know to even write to us?”

  “It’s a program called, Letters to a Friend, and it’s made available to a few select organizations.”

  “How do they get here?”

  She shrugged. “I think Wendy picks them up and brings them here.”

  “Oh.”

  Sofia gave her an odd look. “So, what do you think about Elle’s book?”

  She had nearly forgotten. “It’s amazing.”

  “Yes,” Sofia said. “It’s only been out for a few weeks and it’s already on the best seller list, but,” she said cautiously, “the publishing company is getting requests to meet the author.”

  “Wow.” This anonymity thing was going to be hard. “She’ll not want that, Sofia.”

  She nodded. “I figured as much, that’s why I had them pay me, and then I wrote Elle a personal check. Paying her directly, would’ve been easy to track, by any paparazzi.”

  Nancy hadn’t thought of that and was relieved that Sofia had. “Thanks.”

  “Right now, the world thinks she’s dead, but after the execution, everyone’s going to know who wrote that book.”

  Nancy shuddered. “Oh, no,” she breathed out.

  Sofia’s eyes twinkled. “Not to worry, Nancy.”

  “Not to worry?” What had they done? “What if someone is still out there, and the FBI just hasn’t caught up to him? Elle could be waltzing right back into trouble.”

  Sofia sighed. “You worry too much.” She shook her head. “No one has surfaced in all these years. Marvin Snyder must have been acting alone.” She tapped the table. “But, I understand Elle’s need to remain anonymous, and I, too, had thought about the paparazzi catching up to her. So,” she grinned, “I created a real life for Ashley West. I gave her a birth certificate, a social security card, and a past.”

  Nancy’s eyes widened. Wow. Look what money can buy.

  “Now, if anyone tries to dig deeper, they’ll find evidence that Ashley West took everything she needed from the news to create her book based on a woman she never met.”

  “Wait,” Nancy said, “If they find out you’re the one getting paid, won’t that bring them right to you?”

  “They won’t. Ashley West is getting paid by the publisher. The funds are deposited into a joint account in her name and mine—my maiden name.”

  “Oh. Brilliant.”

  “Ah,” she said with a grin, “it’s but the mind of a writer, Nancy.”

  Wendy waved them over from across the courtyard. She was not smiling. “It’s Millie,” she said, when they got to her. “She just got here,” her voice shook. “I’ve never seen her this bad.”

  “Which cabin is she in?” Sofia asked.

  “Orange, but,” she placed her hand on Nancy’s arm. “She doesn’t want to see anyone, but Sofia.”

  “Oh.” Nancy took a step back and watched them leave. The orange cabin was on the other side of the lodge. She kept watching, until they entered the cabin, and the door closed behind them.

  She stared at the orange cabin for some time, wondering what was going on inside its walls. After a while, she turned toward the path that led to the blue cabin, lost in worries about Millie, and her own problems, too. She’d been brave to ask to be at the execution, but now felt like it was the last place in the world she wanted to be. She glanced at the row of colorful cabins in front of her. Tomorrow was the lethal injection, and she never felt so utterly alone.

  Thirty

  It Ends

  Elle stood at the window of the hotel in Bangor, Maine. Too late to show up unannounced, they’d opted to stay in a hotel the night before, instead of driving the hour it would take to get home from the airport. Muted rays of sunlight cut through patches of fog, making for a hazy sunrise. She turned back to her suitcase and finished placing the items inside. The long-awaited day had finally arrived. Today, they would see family they’d not seen for over eight years.

  She hesitated with at least calling them first, but Sam told her to hold off. Who would they call first anyhow? It was best to announce their existence with them all together, right before the lethal injection. Their arrival would definitely be the highlight of the day.

  Sally was unusually quiet. She was five-years-old, the last time she was there. “What if they don’t remember me?” She wound a rubber band around her long hair.

  Elle touched her shoulder. “Why would you say that, sweetie? Have you forgotten them?”

  Sally grinned. “No, of course not.”

  Sam grinned. “So, there’s your answer. You look the same, too, kiddo.”

  Sally thrust her hands on her hips. “Really, Dad?”

  “Trust me,” Elle chimed in. “Even though you’re older, you still look very much like the child that left them.” Those words caught in Elle’s throat. She couldn’t imagine how incredible seeing Sally alive was going to be for everyone. Of course, seeing Elle and Sam, too, but mostly, the little girl that had captured their hearts, all those years ago. She could barely contain her excitement, as they loaded their luggage into the rental car.

  Sam placed the
Motorola 8000X between them on the seat. It wasn’t theirs, but belonged to the FBI. They would use it to time their arrival at the farm and the beginning of the execution. Agent Sanderson had explained its unique push-to-talk walkie-talkie feature, and told him that’s the way they would communicate with him.

  Sally leaned over the seat and stared at it. “That’s pretty neat, I guess.” She made a face. “It sort of looks like something from the future.”

  “Like Star Trek?”

  “More like Star Wars,” she said.

  It crackled, and then a voice said, “Do you have a copy, Sam?”

  Sam picked it up and pushed a button. “Copy that.”

  “Everyone has arrived, including Elle’s family from California.”

  “Are you there right now?”

  “Yes, but I’m outside, giving your family some time to process the upcoming execution. Agent Thompson and I will remain here until it’s over and then gather our equipment.”

  “Thank you.” With that, Sam pushed a button and signed off. “They’re ready for us.”

  Elle fought back tears of joy. Within minutes, they would be there.

  Nancy was up and ready, when Wendy appeared at the blue cabin’s door. As instructed, she was to take her to the place the FBI had requested, and they would pick her up there. As she took the small white pill, Nancy thought it was kind of funny, having the FBI pick her up away from the sanctuary. They probably knew exactly where it was.

  Unsure of how long she had slept, she was surprised that just minutes had passed when Wendy gently nudged her awake. Once inside the vehicle with the agents, she gave Wendy a quick wave. She was to come back and get her in the same location later that next night, after Nancy had spent some time with her brother.

  After a long drive, they pulled up to the prison. Dozens of people lined the outside of the building, holding signs up—demanding Merrick’s life not be taken.

  “Sorry you had to see that, ma’am,” one of the agents said.

  Reporters caught sight of them, and rushed toward the car. Nancy covered her face, until they passed into the prison yard, and then into a garage. The FBI agents waited until the garage door came all the way down, before they escorted Nancy out of the car.

  “They’ll be waiting for you when this is over. We may have to remove you in another way.”

  Her eyebrows rose. She remembered how sick she got when they drugged her for her own funeral. “No, no,” she waved them down. “I’ll put a towel over my head, or something, but no drugs, please.”

  “I was thinking more of a helicopter, ma’am.”

  She grinned. A helicopter ride would be just fine, though she did wonder how she would hook up with Eddie later. She thought long and hard about that, as they moved her through the facility. Anything to take her mind off seeing Merrick again. Anything.

  “There it is,” Elle said, breathlessly. “There’s the farm.” A gentle breeze blew through the trees, now baring tiny, tightly furled, light green leaves. It was one of Elle’s most favorite times of the year. The sun was shining, cows were grazing on short stubs of grass, not quite up yet, and a lazy crow cawed from a tree overhead.

  They sat at the end of the driveway. It was obvious that none of them were quite sure how to do it—reunite with their family.

  The Motorola crackled. “Do you have a copy, Sam?”

  “Copy that.”

  “How do you want to do this? I can go in and prepare them for the shock, or—”

  “No, we’ve got this . . . uh, except, if you could have them find a place to sit, and tell them that no matter what, stay calm.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Hadlock, er, Hancock.”

  Sam pushed the button and turned the radio off. He glanced at Elle and then back at Sally. He pulled down the driveway, turned the car off, and stared at the house. “Are you ready?” His voice broke. He got out of the car and went around to the passenger’s side to get Elle and Sally.

  Elle leaned against him for a moment, drawing in her surroundings. Trembling, she took Sam’s hand and beckoned for Sally to take the other.

  “Mom, you’re shaking.”

  Sam put his arm around them both. “Hang in there, Elle, it’s almost over.”

  “Anyhow,” chirped Sally, “this is the really cool part.”

  A face appeared at the window. She seemed confused as to who else had arrived, but then her mouth dropped open. In seconds, the front door swung open, banging against the outside trim, and Sam’s mother, Louise, stood there.

  She squinted and her hand went to her chest. “It can’t be,” she whispered, her eyes wide with shock.

  “So much for the FBI keeping everyone calm,” Elle said. She gave Louise a slight wave.

  “Sam!” She turned her head and yelled back into the house for Sam’s father. “Sam, come quick!” But she didn’t wait for him to join her and nearly toppled down the porch steps.

  Sam broke away from Elle and Sally and dashed toward her. “Mom!”

  She held her hand up to stop him, her countenance wavering, her expression showing confusion and doubt.

  Sam Sr. appeared at the door with a few of their guests squeezing alongside him. “What is it, Louie?” His eyes caught his son’s, but his reaction was different from Louise’s. “I knew it. Never could believe you were dead.” With that, he whizzed past Louise and nearly bowled Sam over, pressing him into a tight hug. “Yes! Yes.” His voice gurgled, and he wept. “Unbelievable, unbelievable,” he cried, between tears. “Louie,” he gestured furiously toward his wife. “It’s Sam!”

  She stared at her husband and then at Sam. “But, we buried him,” she whispered.

  “Mom,” Sam said, sternly. “Do I look dead? Look, we didn’t want to leave you, but it might be why we’re still alive today.”

  Sam Sr. patted his son’s arm. “She’s just in shock, son.” He turned to his wife. “Louie.” She looked at him, as if she couldn’t fathom what was happening. “He’s alive, Louie, our son is alive.”

  “I put flowers there,” she pointed toward the family graveyard on the hill, “just yesterday.”

  Elle had had enough. It hadn’t escaped her attention that none of her family had come outside yet, and it perturbed her. They had wanted everyone to see them at the same time. “Excuse me, but this is ridiculous. Long story short—Merrick’s henchman tried to murder us—we were in that fire at that cabin in Tennessee. We contacted the FBI, and they relocated us. Now that that monster is about to be executed, maybe we can have our family back?” She tilted her head and grimaced.

  A wave of realization washed over Louise. She blinked. And then the loudest, most enthusiastic scream erupted from her throat. “Sam!’ She turned toward the house. “You guys, get out here! You’re never going to believe this!” She turned back to Sam. Her hands flew to her face, followed by a frenzy of tears. She hurried toward him, as the rest of the family appeared on the porch.

  Amidst a flood of cries and gasps, the surprised family tripped down the steps in a rush to get to Sam.

  Louise let go of her son and turned to Elle. “Elle!” She pulled her near and held on for a long time. She pulled away. “Where’s little Sally?”

  Elle pushed her finger toward Sally standing by the car. “She’s right there.”

  Louise wiped her eyes. “Sally?” It came out like a whisper.

  Suddenly, everyone milled around Sally. She seemed to enjoy the attention, though she probably only remembered bits and pieces about them.

  Elle glanced around. She tapped Louise on the shoulder. “Where’s my mother?”

  “Oh, dear me, I forgot.” She pointed to a path meandering into the woods. “They didn’t want to watch the execution, but they did want to be here to support us. Your father said they’d be back before it, uh, happens.” Looking down at her watch, she said, “in about an hour.”

  She looked up at Elle. “Oh, and your grandparents opted to stay at the cabin at the lake. Grammie Gwen said it would be too much for
them to bare.” Her face saddened. “She’s had a rough go of it,” and then she smiled, “but, boy, is she in for a surprise.”

  Sam pointed toward the woods. “I guess, we’ll just wait until they emerge from the trees.” He studied Elle’s face.

  Elle shook her head. “Um, no,” she whispered. “You wait here.” When Sam started to follow her, she held her hand up. “I want to see them on my own.”

  “Okay,” he said, backing away. “Come on Sally.” He took her by the arm and guided her toward the house, while Elle walked up the path that led to the woods.

  They brought Nancy into a small room. It was empty, which was no surprise. She had requested that no reporters, nor anyone else, except for the prison guards be there along with the prison chaplain, and the two FBI agents.

  Merrick had no next of kin that she knew of. She shuddered, she hadn’t known about Marvin, though it made sense that he could have a father still living. Except, he was dead now.

  She wondered about Merrick’s mother Winnie, though. Estranged for years from the son she’d given away, she was sure Winnie wouldn’t be there. Winnie had been her friend, and had suffered at the hands of that monster, almost as much as she had.

  The FBI agent touched her on the arm. “Would you come with me, please?”

  She noted the chaplain followed them, too, and just expected it was part of it—counseling, and all. It probably took a lot out of people who witnessed the death of someone they knew. They opened a door and led her inside.

  The chaplain spoke first. “I am sorry for what happened to you, Mrs. Snyder.”

  She nodded.

  He sighed. “We know you requested no one at the execution, but wanted to tell you ahead of time that someone has come forward that has a right to view it.”

  The hair pricked on the back of her neck. “Who?”