Sarah, Page 3

she guessed right. That happened again a few times. She’d be clueless about something until I explained a bit, but suddenly she'd know more than I did.

  After the zoo, we made our way over to the rose garden and Sarah took to wandering and sniffing the fragrance of every variety. Meanwhile, I connected back with Greg, and sent my script-generated report. Needless to say, it didn’t come up with any registration hacks.

  “Thanks, Ethan. The investigation team’s got squat so far. They picked up some hair samples off the nurse who was overpowered and locked in, but they look like they came from the HAB. The lab boys will let us know for sure. It almost looks like it took off by itself, but that doesn’t make any sense. HABs don’t run away.”

  “Anything else I can do?”

  “Yeah, another check. The mayor is leaning on the Chief to solve this case; Prairie Biotech contributed big to his campaign, so he's damn hot on this one. Your reports will make us look that much busier.”

  “No problem.” I closed the link and fired up my scripts again, glad I'd never let on how automated I made the process. Of course, I already knew the results, so I didn’t feel compelled to work hard at it.

  I found Sarah sitting on a white bench where the garden path met up with a stone walkway.

  “This is the bench in your picture, isn’t it?” she asked as she peeked up from under the brim of her hat.

  I remembered Chloe sitting in that same spot, right under the top of the vine-entwined arch. Chloe had laughed at my jokes and smiled when we shared our dreams that day. Nobody listened to me the way she did: the understanding of a best friend and the empathy of a lover. I needed to get out of there. Seeing Sarah sitting in Chloe’s spot and wearing Chloe’s dress was starting to make me twitch. “I know somewhere else you’d like, let’s go.”

  We drove to a garden at a nearby lake with all kinds of plants and landscaped streams. We walked the paths while Sarah took it all in. She asked questions about me, about what I did for the police, about my family, about my hobbies; you name it. I tried to ask about her, but all she had was a month locked in a white room and a salad of disconnected memories.

  While telling her about the Thanksgiving dinner when my cousin set the turkey on fire, I discovered her hand in mine. Somehow, I never noticed her putting it there. I pulled away from her gently, and she let go without a word.

  “I want to feel the water,” Sarah declared when we came close to the shore. She ran ahead and pulled off her sandals so she could wriggle her toes in the cool lake.

  My phone beeped, and I sat on a nearby bench to answer. When I saw the name, I shunted the connection to my mailbox. I didn’t feel like talking to my brother-in-law. He’d been pestering me to go on a fishing expedition with him and his friend. I joined him once as a favor to my sister, and I sat in a boat for ten hours listening to Ron’s stories. I hate fishing.

  I knew he’d try again, so I set my phone to take only work-related calls. The rest I could skim over later.

  When I looked up, I saw Sarah standing in the water, holding up her skirt. The sun hung low on the horizon and the surface sparkled with gold all around her. She gave me a glowing smile of simple joy. I grinned back, unable to resist.

  She waded back to shore and hurried to the bench. “I’m starving, let’s get something to eat. I want to taste something else,” she said with a playful half-smile, reaching down with both hands to pull me up.

  I stood, avoiding her too-inviting help. “I know a pizza joint that’s close; you’ve got to try pizza.”

  Sarah said nothing, staring at the bench instead. I followed her gaze and spotted the plaque. In memory of Thomas Hoffman.

  “I remember that name," she said distantly.

  “Who was he?”

  “Stories told too often; a stuffy house; walking here in the sun; jigsaw puzzles while the rain beat against the windows. But I don't know.”