You Can't Hide Theresa Sneed (top 10 non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📖

They searched the garden shed and then the path that wove through the sparse trees toward the lake. Karen’s voice quivered. “She wouldn’t go to the lake, would she?”

Gwen made fists at her sides. “She knows not to, but we’re checking it anyway.”

After searching the lake and seeing no sign of the little girl, they returned to the cabin. Gwen was in tears. Karen fought against crying. Surely, Sally was asleep somewhere inside and hadn’t heard their calls.

The screen door slammed behind them. Joe glanced their way, and then he returned to his phone call. “Hurry, Sheriff.” He hung up. “He’ll be right out with all the men he can muster. In the meantime, let’s spread out and keep looking.”

Sheriff Higgins arrived in no time, followed by three police cars. Up in Sally’s room, John held his hand up, preventing Gwen from touching anything.

Gwen’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”

John frowned. As the wife of a former police officer, Gwen should know why. “It’s just precautionary,” he said.

Gwen backed away. “Yes, of course, but,” her voice quivered. “Do you think someone broke in here?”

With gloves on his hands, he searched Sally’s bed. “Probably not, Gwen, but we have to investigate.”

His eyebrows rose. “What’s this?” Bending over, he picked up a crumpled package. “I thought Joe quit smoking.”

Gwen tilted her head to the side. “Yes, years ago.” Karen stepped into the room. Gwen looked up at her. “You don’t smoke, do you, Karen?”

Karen stared at the crumpled cigarette package. “No.”

John removed a plastic bag from his pocket and dropped the package inside. He looked around the room, his eyes drawn to the billowing curtains. His face paled. “Where’s the screen?”

Five

Missing

Louise and Sam Sr. stayed for a few hours, each taking their turn with Elle, who would not leave Sam’s side.

“Come with us while we get something to eat?” Sam Sr. said.

“No, I’m good.” Elle glanced at his son. “Will you be back?”

“Yes, dear, we’ll be back, and we’ll stay as long as you need.” He hugged her, patted Sam’s foot, and then left.

Elle stared out the hospital window. “It’s just you and me, Sam.” She ran her trembling fingers over his bandaged forehead. “Just you and me . . .” her voice trailed off, “. . . and Sally.” Talk to him normal, Elle, she thought. “So, Sam, don’t think you’re getting out of marrying me.” He couldn’t see her sad face, nor hear anything but humor in her voice. I’ll talk to him just like nothing is wrong.

“Anyhow, I didn’t show you the colors for our wedding on purpose, but I guess I’ll tell you about them now. You know how I love the outdoors, and I know how much you love it, too. So, I wanted the colors of nature—the deep blue of the ocean, the browns of bark and pinecone, the red of berries, and the peach of, well, a peach.”’ She forced a smile. “I’m not sure how Mama will react to it, but it’s my—er, our wedding, and we need to choose what we want. Right?” She kissed him lightly. “And I have it from a good source that you’re okay with whatever I choose.”

She got up and paced the small room to the beat of the heart monitor. “You’ve got,” she counted on her fingers, “eight weeks to get better—eight weeks before I am Mrs. Samuel Hancock, Jr.” The corner of her lip turned up in a weak grin. “You’ve got to recover, Sam, please,” she pleaded, in a whisper.

Continuing her pacing, she went on. “Anyhow, we’re beginning to get RSVP’s back on our wedding. Thirty so far, that’s pretty good, right?” It seemed good to her, after all the wedding was still eight weeks away.

“Nancy made Sally’s flower girl dress. She sent me a picture.” She picked her purse up off the floor and looked through it. “Here it is.” Pulling the picture from her purse, she put it front of Sam’s face then sighed. “Beings you’re being stubborn about opening your eyes, I’ll describe it. It fans out at the bottom, just like my dress. Opps, you’re not supposed to know that.” She frowned. I wish you could hear me, Sam. “Anyhow, it’s light yellow, like the sun, and has daisies embroidered all over it. She looks so cute in it.” She stared at the picture then slipped it back into her purse.

“Mama has been bugging me about the food though. What do you think, Sam?” She laughed. “Oh wait, I remember what you said, “burgers would be just fine.” She smirked. “Mama would go through the roof, if I told her that.” It would almost be worth it. “But on second thought, why not? Why don’t we just grill out, on the ocean front, by my parent’s beach house in San Diego?” I love it there.

“Just imagine it, Sam, the ocean lapping up against the beach, and we can get married barefoot.” Wouldn’t that make her mother cringe, especially since she had purchased very expensive shoes for both herself and the bride?

Elle pulled a chair beside the bed. She sat down and leaned her chin on top of her hands on the bedrail. Lowered the bedrail, she pulled closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Sam,” she said sadly. “Can you hear me?” Sighing, she pulled away and leaned back against the chair. Yawning, she closed her eyes. It had been a long day and an even longer night before that. She reached out and held his hand.

Somewhere in her dreams, she heard his voice. “I’ll wear a couple pinecones for a boutonniere.”

“What a lovely idea,” she mumbled, not wanting to wake up from the dream.

“But, no burgers, I want your mother to like me, Elle.” He squeezed her hand.

“Mmm, nice,” she said, and he laughed, then groaned from the effort. That woke her, and she sat up. “Sam?” she whispered. He grinned, grimaced from the pain, and then grinned again. “Sam,” she