When the SWAT team burst through the front door, they found Sam huddled on the sofa. Her knees were drawn up under her chin and she stared in front of her, her eyes glazed. Bailey pushed his way through the officers and sat beside her.
"Sam?"
She tilted her head to look at him, slowly coming back to reality. "Bailey?"
She looked to him like a small, frightened animal and he put an arm around her in an attempt to comfort her. He was surprised when she pulled away.
"Sam?"
"I'm okay," she said, too quickly.
"What happened?" He gestured to the body still lying on the floor.
"How did you find me?" she asked instead of answering.
"An anonymous caller gave us this address. The house is leased in the name of Samantha Anderson." He paused to let the information sink in. "Sam, what happened here?"
"Jack," she whispered.
"Did he hurt you?" Bailey's grip on her arm tightened.
"He was angry that I'd gone out with Joel. He . . . he brought us here . . . and . . ." She shook her head as tears sprang to her eyes.
Bailey stood. "Let's get you to a hospital."
"No! I'm fine. I just . . . I just want to go home. I want to see Chloe."
Bailey relented; he could deny her nothing. Still, he pressed. "You need to talk about it."
"I know! But not now." Her bottom lip quivered slightly as she looked up at him, and she added, "Please?"
He nodded and held out his hand. All the questions tumbling through his mind would have to wait.
Grace sat in the lab, staring at the test results. She didn't want to believe it, but she held the evidence in her hand. Bailey came to stand next to her.
"What did you want me to see?"
Grace sighed. "Sam wasn't covered in any blood when you found her and she said she hadn't been hurt. From the amount of blood in the living room, I'd say Jack killed him there. I didn't understand how his blood ended up all the way in the bedroom, but look here."
She led Bailey to a table where she had the sheet spread out. "See: these long marks look like they could be made by fingers. I couldn't get any clear prints off this but I had a hunch, so I ran another test."
"And?"
Grace paused, looking down at the offending sheet. "I found traces of semen and vaginal fluid—"
"But Sam said Jack grabbed them from a restaurant. It was their first date, they wouldn't have—"
"I ran a match. Sam didn't sleep with Joel Siebert."
Bailey slammed his fist hard down on the table. "I'll kill him. Jack's a dead man."
"Where is Sam now?"
"At home. Take the day off, Gracie. I don't think she should be alone right now."
I just want to be left alone, Sam thought. She sat at the kitchen table, stirring a cup of coffee. She hadn't slept well; the previous day's events were weighing heavily on her mind.
"Mom?"
Sam looked at Chloe, her mind still a million miles away. "Mmm?"
"I just wanted to say bye. Angel's taking me to school."
"Mmm, bye, Chlo'." She forced a smile, then noticed the look on Chloe's face. "Uh, how about we do something this afternoon? I'll pick you up from school and—"
Chloe threw her arms around Sam's neck. "I'm glad you're okay, Mom."
Sam had nothing to say to that. She kissed Chloe's cheek and waved her away.
Twenty minutes later, when Grace arrived, she was still sitting at the kitchen table, staring into her now-cold cup of coffee.
"Why aren't you at work?" she asked.
Grace emptied the cup and started making a fresh pot of coffee. "I was worried about you. Jack's never done anything like this before – I mean, not with you right there."
Sam shrugged. "I'm okay."
"I, uh, I did the autopsy." She handed Sam a cup and sat down across from her. When Sam didn't say anything, she cautiously pressed on. "You can trust me, you know."
"I know."
"And if there was something you weren't comfortable talking to Bailey about, you could always talk to me."
Sam frowned slightly, wondering where this was going. "I know."
"So, was there anything about what happened yesterday that you couldn't tell Bailey?"
Sam looked away and took a sip of coffee to hide her nervousness.
"Sam? I know what he did to you. It's okay to talk about it." Grace was sure there was some irony in that, if their roles were reversed, Sam would be saying the same thing to her.
"What do you mean, 'what he did to me'?"
Which is the greater wrong? Sam wondered. If I confirm her suspicions, I betray Jack. If I deny them, I betray everything I . . . she stands for.
Wait . . . betray Jack? What am I thinking?
"I'm fine, Grace. Really."
Grace pursed her lips. Sam knew Grace saw right through the lie, but knew also that she wouldn't press her.
"You're going to have to speak to the Bureau's trauma counselor before Bailey lets you come back to work."
"I'm not going back to work." Sam pushed her cup away and stood up, refusing to look at Grace. She'd been thinking about quitting but hadn't realized she'd made up her mind until she'd opened her mouth.
"But . . . but what about Jack?"
Sam pretended to look through the refrigerator.
"Sam?"
"I'd really like to be alone just now. Okay, Grace?"
Grace knew when she was beaten. She walked out of the kitchen, leaving Sam to face her demons alone. Sam shut the refrigerator door and leaned her forehead against the cool metal. The firehouse was hot, too hot. Sam needed to get out. She put on a sweat suit and grabbed a cap before heading out. She waited for the agent guarding her to focus his attention elsewhere before running in the opposite direction. Her hair was hidden in the cap and when she risked looking back, the agent was still at his post. She'd gotten away undetected.
She ran.
And ran.
The other joggers ignored her for the most part. She kept her head down, pumping her arms. This wasn't an ordinary jog, this was punishment. The muscles in her legs screamed in protest and her chest burned. When she reached the park, she stopped and stretched. A young mother walked past, pushing a stroller. An old man was walking his Beagle. Everything seemed so normal and for a moment Sam let herself believe that she was just another jogger, that everything about her life was normal too.
If she took Chloe away they could begin a new life. A normal life. She wouldn't have to report to Bailey whenever she felt like leaving her house unescorted. Chloe wouldn't have to go everywhere with a bodyguard. Jack would find her, of course, but would that be so bad?
She caught herself, then sank down onto the park bench. Yes, it would be bad. He was a killer, she didn't need to remind herself of that fact. So what if she wanted to believe otherwise? She had told him not to make her choose between him and Chloe. As much as she wanted him, she was a mother first. Her needs had to come second. There was no way to compromise.
Still, the idea of her and Chloe and Jack living far away from everything here refused to just disappear from her thoughts. Would it really be that bad?
Her eye fell on the young mother again. She couldn't remember being that innocent. She wanted – no, needed – Chloe to grow up like that young mother. That wouldn't happen on the run. That wouldn't happen if she was living with the Jack-Of-All-Trades.
But it wouldn't happen here either.
Chloe chattered excitedly about her day, unaware that her mother's thoughts were only half on the conversation. Sam gazed around the restaurant, irrationally hoping for a glimpse of Jack. When she'd returned from the park, her guard had been surprised and more than a little upset that she'd slipped away without telling him. She'd told him to forget about it and had disappeared into her darkroom. If Angel hadn't reminded her of her promise to Chloe, she would have forgotten. Chloe had been thrilled when she'd shown up at school and had immediately suggested a thousand places they could go.
This little restaurant had caught Sam's eye. It was quiet and small, and had an almost European atmosphere. Chloe loved it.
"—And then she said my poem was the best out of the whole class. She told me she wants to put it in the school magazine at the end of the year."
"That's great, hon." Sam forced herself to concentrate. "What's it about?"
"Dad."
Sam felt guilt pierce her straight through the heart. She wasn't hungry anymore.
"You never said you'd written a poem about your dad."
"I write lots of stuff. You're just never home." There was no accusation in Chloe's tone. She smiled. "Angel reads it."
Sam reached across the table to take Chloe's hand. "What if I told you I was going to be home more often? I don't think I'm going to be working at the VCTF anymore."
"But I thought you helped people?"
"There are other people who can help more than I can. Besides, I want to spend more time with you." Sam couldn't tell Chloe that she was leaving because she felt like a stranger in her own life. She was too young to understand anyway.
"You promise? 'Cause what if Uncle Bailey asks for your help again?"
"I promise, Chlo'."
Chloe smiled, and scooted around the table. She hugged her mother. "Can we live in a real house then? With a garden and a pool?"
"We'll see."
TBC