Page 55 of Echoes of Sin
She didn’t waste time, knowing that every second that Sarah wasn’t in the witness protection program was simply more time for Jacob to figure out a way to finish what he’d started seventeen months ago. No prison cell would prevent him from succeeding, either…unless Brook could tip the scales in Sarah’s favor.
“Hello, Sarah.”
Brook mindfully stepped down into the four-seasons room. It must have been an addition to the house at some point in recent years, and the large windows overlooked a beautifully landscaped backyard with large sugar maple trees, numerous bird feeders, and at least two bird baths. Leaves had fallen from the trees and were being rustled here and there by the slight breeze.
“Say what you’ve come to say, and then you can see yourself out.”
Brook crossed the hardwood floor, doing her best to soften the clicking sounds of her high heels. She’d gone over the different ways to approach their conversation, and the direction had depended on Sarah initial response.
“Sarah, you wanted to see me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.” Brook set her purse on the floor next to the leg of the wicker chair. She finally met Sarah’s gaze. The impact of the woman’s physical appearance was like a blow to Brook’s stomach, but she never gave way to that fact. She remained composed, and she would not allow Sarah to use her appearance to influence their discussion. “We both have things to say to one another. You might not believe that we are on a deadline, but we are, so I suggest we don’t waste the time that we have been given.”
Sarah Evanston’s face was disfigured to the point of being unrecognizable. The deformities were so hideous that she hardly resembled a human visage anymore. The deep scars mapped out the history of her suffering, while the blemishes revealed the harsh attempts by surgeons to push through and patch up what flesh had been salvageable. Her disfigurement was so extreme that it was almost impossible for anyone to bear witness to such an atrocity.
“Not even a wince?” Sarah asked derisively, not even able to lift her lip to match her disdain. “You really are a coldhearted bitch, aren’t you?”
Brook continued to meet Sarah’s stare, refusing to rise to the bait.
“I guess I only have one question for you,” Sarah said as she gripped a coffee mug in between her hands. Brook had noticed the scars of the defensive wounds that she’d incurred while trying to fight off Jacob’s attack. “I honestly haven’t stopped thinking about it since your interview aired on national television. Nice touch, by the way, attempting to garner the sympathy of the people.”
Brook could have reminded Sarah that she’d been warned many times that Jacob Walsh was dangerous. The former reporter had been covering an investigation that had nothing to do with Brook’s brother, but Sarah had basically taunted him several times by comparing Jacob’s handywork to that of another killer. She’d done so knowing the risks, but she’d thought…well, she’d thought that her life was perfect.
Jacob’s one pet peeve.
“What question do you have for me, Sarah?”
“Why didn’t you do something?” Sarah asked, her voice thick with emotion. “You let your brother murder your best friend, your college roommate, your neighbor, and countless others. All you had to do was saying something.”
Brook leaned forward and quietly removed the coffee cup from Sarah’s hands. She set the hot beverage down on a side table. While she’d gone over and over the opportunities that she’d been presented with during her teenage years to expose her brother, she could also recall being plagued with many doubts.
She always came back to the same question—how could two siblings who were raised in the same household, in the same town, and by the same parents turn out so different?
“Who was your best friend in high school?” Brook asked as she settled back into her chair. “What was her name?”
“I don’t know how that has anything to do with—”
“What was your best friend’s name when you were in high school?”
“Rachel.”
“Did Rachel have a brother?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know him well?”
“Yes, but—”
“Would you have believed Rachel had she told you that her brother was the one who abducted a girl from your school and slashed the flesh off her face?”
Sarah’s eyes filled with tears, but they were more for herself than Pamela Murray, the young girl who Brook had been referencing from her own childhood. It was so easy for people to look back and place blame on everyone but the person responsible. Brook was one of those individuals, because there would never be a single day that passed by that she didn’t hold herself accountable for the deaths of Jacob’s victims. It was the reason that she’d dedicated her life to stopping him, and she couldn’t do that without Sarah’s help.
“Sarah, I need you to listen to me. I know that you want more than anything for your life to return to some semblance of normalcy. You want to be near your mother when you undergo more corrective surgery, and you want to sleep in a place that you once felt secure,” Brook said as she leaned forward. She’d heard the faintest sound of footsteps outside the four-seasons room. Brook needed Jemma Evanston’s help, and this was the perfect opportunity to turn an adversary into an ally. “I spoke with Agent Houser, and he’s been in touch with the U.S. Marshal Service. They are willing to allow your mother to join the program with you.”
“That’s not true,” Sarah countered with a shake of her head. “My handler explained that witness protection doesn’t work that way unless—”
“They’ve made an exception,” Brook stated matter-of-factly, not bothering to go into the details. She’d had to use a few of those coveted favors that she’d stored up over the years, but it was Sarah’s only chance at a life. “You and your mother will be given new identities, and the two of you can start over somewhere else.”
“There is nowhere for me to go,” Sarah said in anguish, curling her fingers into the palms of her hands. “Look at me! Look at this face, and you tell me that I’ll be able to blend in somewhere. Agent Houser and my handler have already tried to convince me that I made the wrong decision, but they don’t get it. It doesn’t even matter if I leave the state let alone the country. If your brother wants to find me, all he has to do is search social media for a disfigured woman who looks like a monstrous freak. I can’t even walk into the front entrance of a hospital without hearing the whispers and the—”