You Can't Hide

by Theresa Sneed

  They moved without stopping, getting farther and farther away from the fire, but staying as close to the woods road as they could to guide them along their way. Shortly, sirens and flashing lights lit the sky, as firetrucks passed by. But they didn’t rush out and stayed hidden from the world.

  Sitting Sally down, Elle grasped her hand and walked swiftly beside her. Another firetruck approached. “Are you sure we shouldn’t stop them? I mean, they can save us.”

  “But, for how long? How long before that lunatic finds someone to come after you and Sally again?” Todd slowed down to a walk. “Listen, we need to get help, that’s true, but not from these locals. We need help from someone who can give you and Sally a new identity. Someone who can get you a new life where Merrick and his henchmen can’t find you.”

  Elle thought on that. She groaned. How could she do that to her parents again? To her brother, Jack? To Sam? “I . . . can’t.”

  “Just until Marvin is caught,” he said softly.

  “Marvin?”

  Karen made a face. “Oh, come on Elle. Of course it was Marvin.”

  She was probably right, but what a horrible thing. What kind of a person tries to kill their own grandchild? She shuddered.

  “I don’t think Merrick is part of a big crime organization. He can’t keep you away from your family, forever, Elle.”

  “No?”

  “No. He’s on death row. After a while, he’s going to the electric chair, or what’s that they do now? Lethal injection? Anyhow, your disappearance won’t be for life.”

  That was true. “No, I guess not.”

  “And Sam,” Karen said cautiously, “his death would be easy to stage.”

  Shocked, Elle glanced over at her. “What?”

  Karen made a face. “He’s already in the ICU, isn’t he?”

  That made Elle the saddest of all. Sam was a college professor. How could he ever give that up? After a while, she stopped walking and leaned back against a tree. “There’s something else you haven’t thought of.” She studied her friend’s eyes. “He thinks you’re dead, too.”

  They worked their way through the trees, until they came to a gas station. Elle touched Todd on the arm. “You go, there’s a better chance of you not being recognized.” She pulled a dime from her pocket. “Call the FBI. I’m sure they know about Sally’s abduction. Tell them where we are and to come get us.”

  Thirteen

  Homecoming

  In an undisclosed location, Elle gathered together with Karen, Todd, and little Sally—Sam would join them later, once his death had been staged. Elle hated that no one would know that they hadn’t really died in the fire, but no one was to know, not until Merrick was executed, and Marvin was behind bars.

  “Would you follow me?” an agent from the FBI said. “We have some news.” He led her into a different room, pointed to a chair, and had her sit. “They found a body in the rubble.”

  Elle jump up from her seat. “What?”

  “He’s been identified as Marvin Snyder.”

  Her hands flew to her throat. How had that happened? She thought he’d caused the fire, not been trapped in it.

  “Sorry to have to tell you this, but his death might not have been an accident.”

  She drew in a quick breath. “What do you mean?”

  “He had quite a gash on his head. We can’t be sure if he fell into the stove and was unconscious when the flames consumed the cabin, or if someone murdered him and then dumped his body there.”

  Another agent stuck his head in the doorway. “Channel 7,” he said, pointing to the television set.

  Flipping it on, a newscast played.

  . . . an investigation is underway. Marvin Snyder, father to the notorious Merrick Snyder, was found dead at a family cabin in Tennessee, along with the bodies of Elizabeth Heard; Snyder’s biological granddaughter, Sally Snyder; and two unidentified bodies. Three days earlier, Sally had been abducted from . . .

  The news rattled on. Elle went numb, seeing her picture and Sally’s flash across the screen. A sob caught in her throat. “I need to be alone. Just give me a minute.” She went into the next room and closed the door. She had been sure that Marvin tried to murder them and was still out there somewhere. But now, with this new evidence, what had really happened? She bit on the end of her finger and stared out the window, hoping that Marvin had tripped into the stove and not that someone else was out there—someone they had no clue about.

  A surge of hope gripped her mind. If they knew for sure, then they wouldn’t have to go into hiding. She worked her way back to the FBI agent. “Do you think Marvin died accidently, or do you think he was murdered?”

  He seemed to get what she was alluding to. “I can’t say for sure, Miss Heard, and that’s why I strongly recommend you continue with this protection plan.”

  “But, what if it’s really over? What if Marvin was the only one trying to kill us?”

  He looked her straight in the eye. “And what if he wasn’t?”

  Sally ran through the room and smiled at them as she passed.

  He was right. If someone was out there that meant them harm, then they had to continue on as if dead—for Sally’s sake. She gave him a nod and went back into the living room, deep in thought.

  Sam would join them in about a month, as soon as he had recovered enough to travel. The plan was that he would need an unexpected surgery, but not make it through it. They hadn’t told him the truth about her and Sally, and she anguished over his pain. He was led to believe that because of the devastating fire, their bodies were unrecognizable. That way, the Feds were able to use cadavers in their place in closed coffins. The FBI had said to let Sam believe they were dead—the illusion to the world would be all the more believable.

  She plopped down in a chair by the window. Karen and Todd sat together on the couch. They spoke softly, but Elle got the gist of what they were saying. She felt sick that she’d caused everyone so much pain. Karen’s parents had died when she was young, and she had no siblings, but Todd was leaving behind family members and that tore him up.

  Wait, she thought. Don’t put this on yourself. This is all Merrick’s doing, and Marvin, or whoever’s out there supporting his sick mind. She shuddered.

  Still, she was tormented with the anguish she knew loved ones were feeling. And then there was Nancy, Sally’s birthmother—and Eddie, Sally’s uncle. Elle was beside herself in grief over their suffering. She had pleaded with the FBI to let Nancy know Sally was alive, but they assured her that Sally had a better chance of surviving if everyone thought she was dead. While that was true, Elle didn’t relent, and finally, the FBI agreed to bring Nancy in on it, but only Nancy.

  Elle was gladdened, and Sally spoke of nothing else. But the sorrow Elle felt for Eddie was deep. Nancy wouldn’t join them right away, but once everything settled down in the media, she would be whisked away, her “death” imminent, and then she would be brought to live with them.

  Elle wrapped her arms around her trembling shoulders. So much was about to happen. In a little over one month, Sam’s tragic death would add more pain to those who loved him. Bittersweet, because their loss, would be her gain.

  She had struggled with just staying dead in his eyes, let him start over, but what kind of pain would he suffer years later when he found out she still lived? No. One day, they would all see their family again—once that horrible man on death row was dead. She tried not to think about an unknown accomplice being somewhere out there. If Marvin had been murdered, the person who had murdered him, also thought he had murdered her.

  Sam swung his legs over the side of the hospital bed. He felt well enough to be released and didn’t understand why they wanted to keep him. The scars on his face were still quite pronounced, but at least, they would eventually heal . . . not like his heart.

  He bemoaned the fact that if the seatbelt hadn’t malfunctioned, none of this would have happened. He wouldn’t have let Sally out of his sight, or Elle. He hung his head.


  A nurse came into the room and unhooked the IV bag attached to his arm. She replaced it with another bag.

  “What’s that for?” He laid back into the bed. “Look. I’m fine.” He stared at her through blurry eyes. Whoa. What’s in that stuff?

  When he awoke, he wasn’t in the hospital anymore, but lying on a gurney in an ambulance. Startled, he tried to sit up.

  “No, Mr. Hancock,” the nurse said, pushing a syringe into the injection port of the IV.

  “Now, hold on. I have rights, what are you—”

  When he woke for the second time, he was in a bed. His head spun. He tried to get up on his elbows, but fell back into the pillow. “Where am I?” He looked around. Nothing was familiar. “Hello?” he called out.

  The door opened, and a man in a suit entered. “Hello, Mr. Hancock,” he said, offering him his hand.

  “Uh, hello,” Sam said, this time successful with sitting up. “Where am I? Who are you?”

  “My name is unimportant. Suffice it to know that I’m FBI.”

  Sam rubbed his head. “I figured as much.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, but not feeling alert enough to stand, he just sat there. “What’s this all about?”

  The FBI agent sat in a chair across from him. “The answer to your first question is Ireland.”

  Sam’s eyes shot open. “What?”

  “You’re in Ireland.” He handed him a folder. “Unfortunately, we’ve had to give you an alias.”

  Sam blinked. “Why?”

  “Because if Marvin Snyder was murdered, whoever killed him is still out there.”

  Great. Just great. Elle and Sally had been taken from him and now his whole family? “Don’t I have a say in this? What if I don’t care? Because I don’t.” He scowled. “I hope he comes after me.” He stood with some effort and went to the window. The terrain outside was breathtaking. “Look, Mr. FBI guy, my family is all I have now. I’d rather live whatever life I have left around them.”

  “Mr. Hancock. You do have the right to refuse this protection program. Just say the word, and you’re back on a plane to the states.” He grinned, which irritated Sam even more.

  He didn’t have to think about it. “That’s what I want.”

  The FBI agent stood. “Right. I’ll let them know.” He opened the door. “It might take a day or two to procure the plane ticket.”

  Sam gave him an incredulous look. Anger rose from the pit of his stomach. “Why to heck did you bring me here, without my consent, in the first place?”

  The agent pointed to the folder. “It’s all in there.” He stood in the doorway, while Sam opened it.

  Under a paperclip, there was a newspaper article with picture of Elle, along with a brief description of her death. He waved the folder at the agent. He didn’t want to read this.

  “Read on,” Mr. Hancock.”

  Tears filled his eyes as he read about the fire in Tennessee that had taken Elle’s life, but what was that under it? He lifted the newspaper clipping.

  His heart went to his throat. ‘Relocated. Witness Protection Program.’ He looked up at the agent, as the folder slipped from his fingers to the floor. “Elle is alive?”

  “Yes,” he heard a soft voice say. Elle appeared in the doorway.

  She took his breath away. She stood so still that it could’ve been just a vision—a hope too strong to dispel. She’d been dead to him for weeks. He’d wet his pillow with tears of frustration and anguish, and yet, she stood before him. “You’re alive?”

  She grinned. “More than ever now.”

  He was afraid to take his eyes off her, afraid she would disappear.

  “Oh, Sam,” she said, taking a cautious step toward him. “I wanted to tell you. I picked up the phone more than once, but—” She wrung her hands in front of her. “He tried to murder Sally, and I just couldn’t let him know she was still—”

  “Sally’s alive?”

  Her lip quivered, and she gave him a quick nod. “Yes.”

  He reached for her, and they collapsed in each other’s arms.

  The patter of footsteps came down the hall and stopped just outside the door. “Daddy?” Sally’s tiny voice wafted through the air. Upon seeing Sam, she stopped short and pointed at him. “Yuck. What happened to your face?”

  Sally hadn’t seen him since before his accident, and the scars and cropped hair must’ve been quite a shock. He, on the other hand, felt like he was seeing an angel—having her alive, along with Elle, was beyond incredible.

  “Yuck?” He laughed. “Is that anyway to greet your soon-to-be father?”

  He expected her to join in his jovial mood, but her countenance dropped. “He hurt you.”

  “Oh no, baby-girl.” Elle rushed over to Sally and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, but she gave Sam a questioning look.

  Sam knelt down in front of the little girl. “No Sally, it was just an accident.” He pulled her close.

  He glanced up at Elle’s somber expression and frowned. For weeks now, he hadn’t been able to remember much about the accident, but as he held Sally, a strange thought popped into his head. MJ. He had been there. He was interrupted in his thoughts, when Karen appeared in the doorway.

  “So glad you could join us, Sam,” Karen said, with a grin.

  A man stood beside her that Sam didn’t recognize.

  Karen bent down to Sally. “Hey, Sweetie,” she said. “The cookies are cool enough for you to have one.” She rustled her hair when she skipped by, and then gesturing to Sam, she turned to the man beside her. “That’s Sam Hancock.” Pointing to the man, she looked at Sam. “And um, this is . . .”

  “Todd McGuire?” Sam held back a scowl. Elle had told him all about Todd McGuire.

  Elle seemed to get his sudden change of mood. “Long story . . . plenty of time to tell it, just know that the lurid pictures were phonies—someone tried to break them up.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Todd grimaced. “Wish we were, Sam, but no—some devious mind concocted the whole thing.”

  Karen looped her arm through Todd’s. “But the good news is that the whole debacle was discovered.” She turned to Todd. “And we’re together again.”

  That was good news, but—“why are you here?” His face went blank. “Oh, wait. The two unidentified bodies in the cabin?—that was you?”

  Karen’s face fell at the mention of the fire. She gave him a quick nod, and then explained. “They thought it best not to ID us. If an assailant is still on the loose, they didn’t think it wise to give him any information.” She looked cautiously at Todd and her gaze saddened. “Our families were told that we died.”

  Todd broke in. “Not an easy thing . . .”

  Until that moment, Sam hadn’t considered the full ramifications of having a new alias—a different name and location. “I can’t call any of my family? No one knows?” He fell back against the bed.

  “No,” Elle said, biting her lip. “Everyone was told that you . . . died.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sam. This is all my fault.”

  Karen moved quickly beside her. “No. It’s not your fault.”

  Sam took her hands. “You know that’s not true—not at all.”

  She nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she trembled. “It’s not like its forever, right? I mean, after Merrick is executed—”

  “You’re shaking—” Sam studied her eyes, full of worry. “I know this is hard, Elle, but you’re right, we’ll be back with our family in no time at all.”

  Inwardly, he groaned, knowing that Merrick’s demise might take several years. And if Marvin hadn’t acted alone, and an accomplice still remained a danger, reuniting with their families might never happen at all.

  Fourteen

  Loose Ends

  The man pulled up in front of the rubble and turned the engine off. It had been weeks since the fire burned the cabin to the ground. A sign had been nailed to what remained of t
he structure.

  DANGER – STAY OUT

  A growl built up in his throat. “You have no idea just how dangerous.” Returning to the scene of the crime was risky, but he’d carefully monitored the police investigation, and it had seemed to have come to an end. Least whys, the Feds had wrapped up their end of it, and the local cops were finished long ago. After finding the four charred bodies, what else was there to find?

  He lit his cigarette, took a long draw, and then spit out the window. He opened the car door and stepped out. He walked the perimeter of what used to be a cabin. Nothing remained except for part of a wall. The roof had collapsed into the main structure, and the cellar door had sunk into the stairs beneath it with just shards left unburned.

  Scratching his nose, he stared at the cellar door. He’d covered it with two feet of dirt, and guessed the burning door couldn’t take the weight. He caught sight of something sticking out of the grass just outside the cellar door. Bending down, he picked it up—a small, blue fairy.

  He knew it had to have been the kid’s. He’d carried her down into the cellar through that door and supposed it might have fallen out of her pocket. His eyes narrowed, as he studied the door, and then he stuffed the toy into his pocket. One last look at the charred remains, and he left for the house in town.

  Back at the house, he unlocked the front door and went inside. He’d kept to himself for a long time, right in this very house—up until a few months ago, when an old man came along saying the house was his. He’d shoved the legal papers in his face. Big. Mistake.

  He remembered the old man’s shock, when he’d yanked him down the steps to the cellar, proving the house was his, by revealing the shrine to Miss Heard. The man had little reaction to the array of newspaper clippings splattered on the wall. Tough guy. He would’ve killed him right then, but recognized the old man might be useful.