When the Dead Speak

Chapter 84

Chapter 84

Jake took the stairs up to his apartment two at a time. Abby had placed makeshift splinters and wrapped an Ace bandage around his hand. Alex thought he had at least three broken bones, possibly more. But Jake didn't have time to go to the hospital. He had time for three aspirins.

Abby told him that after Sam witnessed her father's death, she had run home. The police had found her in Abby's bedroom, in a corner by the closet, her small body rolled up into a tight ball of fear and confusion, shaking so hard the police couldn't budge her. So Abby suggested that Jake look where Sam had felt the safest. She and Alex would check the house. Jake knew if Sam would go anywhere, it would be his apartment.

The door to his apartment was unlocked. Whatever mental state Sam was in, she was still able to pick a lock. He entered slowly, the door closing softly behind him. He was stunned and exhilarated at the same time. It had been hard after seeing the wreckage to believe Abby especially after Benny's call that on preliminary investigation they had found human remains in the Jeep.

But there she was, curled up on the couch, her back to him, still dressed in the black jogging suit she had worn last night. He wanted to gather her in his arms, never let her go. Abby had warned him to approach her cautiously.

Sam's arms, wrapped tightly around her legs, shook violently. Jake saw sections of her hair singed, her suit ripped. Her eyes stared vacantly, hinting that she could still be in shock, or worse. But she was alive. That's all that mattered.

Slowly, he lowered himself onto the couch next to her. "Sam?" he whispered.

Her eyes brimmed and tears fell like silent rivers. Reaching out, he carefully wiped the tears with his handkerchief, moved strands of singed hair from her soot-smudged face. He took a visible check of her clothing, arms, legs, looking for breaks, burns, blood. All he could see were a few abrasions.

"Sam? I'm here. You're safe." He choked back tears. Sitting in front of him was a dazed five-year-old girl inside a twenty-six-year-old woman's body.

He held his arms out to her. "Come here, sweetheart." Haltingly, her blue eyes shifted toward him. Her brows curled up in confusion. She saw his arms. It took what seemed like a lifetime for her to finally reach out to him. Once she did, he gathered her up and held her close. Her arms encircled his neck, her fingers grabbing fistfuls of his shirt.

He thought of the condition of her Jeep and wondered how on earth she ever got out. More importantly, whose body was it that burned beyond recognition?