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

rights were trampled upon?” It got the intended result, just as Elle had predicted.

Merrick’s eyebrow rose, and he leaned forward. “Go on.”

“Oh, on more than one level, Mr. Snyder, your rights were abused. Did they have a warrant to enter your house?”

He grumbled. “My mother let them in.”

Karen shuffled the papers in front of her—notes that she and Elle had put together. “Yes, Winnie Snyder, but are you aware that your mother didn’t call them?”

He drew his head back. “Of course, she did.”

She looked him directly in the eye. “No, she did not. Samuel Hancock broke into your house. He found her unconscious, and he called the authorities.”

He punched the top of the table. “I knew it.”

“Any first year lawyer would know that. Breaking and entering is illegal and doesn’t negate the need for a search warrant.” She hoped her lies were convincing.

He drummed the table with his fingers. “Tell me more.”

Her best lie yet. “Mr. Snyder, I have been interested in your case from day one, and jumped on the opportunity to uh, serve you,” she said softly. Reaching across the table, she placed her hand on his, then removed it quickly, feigning embarrassment. “I, uh, I need to know your story—everything about Merrick Snyder. I’m sure we can find proof that you were set up.” She made a face. “At least, that is what I think happened.”

He studied her face. “I like you, Willis. What do you need to know?”

Several minutes later, a knock on the door alerted them that their session was over. Karen wet her lips. “Thank you, Mr. Snyder,” she said, staring at him. “I think I have everything I need.” The guard rose and stepped behind Merrick. “It was nice meeting you.” She pushed her hand toward Merrick, and this time, he took it.

She waited for the guard to remove Merrick from the room and then followed after them, careful to not let her shaking knees betray her anxious thoughts. Merrick was from Elkmont, a small town in Tennessee—the very information that Elle had hoped she’d find.

Merrick shoved a twenty-dollar bill into the guard’s hands. “Follow her and see who she’s with.” He paced the hall until the guard returned.

The guard handed Merrick a small piece of paper with the plate numbers. “A man and a woman with Tennessee license plates.”

Merrick drew his head back. “Tennessee? Who’s helping her from Tennessee? I need to make a phone call.” He handed the guard a folded piece of paper. “He’ll pay you for your time,” he said, under his breath. “Now, step aside.” He gestured for the guard to move, while he used the phone hanging on the wall.

Someone picked up on the other end. “She’s on her way, and she’s not alone.”

“Hancock?”

“Nah, can’t be him, but double check just in case. She’s with Willis and someone from Tennessee.” He read off the plate numbers. “Got it?”

“Yep.” The man was silent for a few seconds, then spoke up. “The grave is dug and waiting. I might have to make it a little bigger, but I’ll take care of it.”

“See that you do,” Merrick said gruffly.

Nine

Sally

Sally stirred, and her head hurt awful. Her throat was raw and dry, worse than it felt when she had a cold. “Mommy?” she said, sitting up. She looked around the dimly lit room. Not recognizing where she was, she began to sob. “Where am I? Mommy?” Her tummy growled, and she pressed her fingers into it. She wrapped her arms around herself. “Mommy, where are you?” Several minutes later, her crying settled into whimpers. Finally, she stood.

Scuffing the soles of her footed pajamas against the dirt floor, she made her way around the small room, looking for a way out. On one end, stairs led up to a very big door, but it was crooked and hard to lift. It reminded her of the weird door at Gramma Louise’s—the one that led down into the ground. In the middle of the room, a ladder went up to the ceiling. She stared at it for a long time. Seeing nothing at the top that looked like a door, and being afraid of heights, she gave up on it.

Slumping to the floor, tears slipped down her face. She reached up and brushed at them, and then her hand dropped down beside her and rubbed up against something in the pocket of her pajamas. Pulling it out, she stared at the small, blue fairy—a gift from her Aunt Karen. She remembered putting it there, before she crawled into bed. Holding it near, she walked around the room again, and then carefully set the fairy on a pile of old clothes crumpled on the floor. “You sleep now,” she said bravely.

Hours passed. With nothing else to do, she began picking things up and arranging the room. An overturned bucket became a table, and though it took a lot of effort, she finally was able to roll a piece of wood over to it for a chair.

“There,” she said, fighting back the tears. She glanced around. “Sam will find me, just like he did before.” That comforted her some, and she went back to the crumpled clothing, picked up the fairy, and brought it to her table.

“Did you have a good nap?” She sighed. “What do we do now?” The fairy stared back at her. “Yes, I know, you’re scared, like me,” she said trembling, “but at least, we have each other.” She picked it up and kissed it. “There, is that better?” Forcing a smile, she looked around.

A pang of sorrow pierced her heart, and she fought back more tears—her eyes were already so swollen that they hurt. Mommy says crying is good for you, but crying at the wrong times can be bad. This is a wrong time.

She picked up the fairy and walked over to the steps, trying once more to push the door up. The best that she could do only released small pieces of dirt into