You Can't Hide by Theresa Sneed (uplifting novels TXT) 📕

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