Dead Running Read Online Free Page B

at a man with no face. In a rush all the memories of my dad being attacked with a knife and then two years later the agony of seeing my parents bloody and dead in photos provided by the FBI came back full force. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t run. The only part of my body that functioned was my vocal chords. I screamed and screamed and screamed.    
    Strong arms surrounded me. I looked at tattooed flesh and screamed louder still.
    “Shh, shh. It’s me.”
    I glanced up at his face. Dr. Tattoo. My screams quieted as he continued to hold me. After a few minutes, I gained enough control to block the screams that still needed to see daylight. My rescuer pushed my forehead into his chest with one hand and wrapped the other arm underneath my legs. He easily lifted me from the ground. I closed my eyes, but the man's faceless body was imprinted in my mind.
    “You’re okay," Dr. Tattoo said. "I’ve got you now. You’ll be okay.”
    I leaned into his broad chest, clinging to him to stop the trembling. I didn’t scream anymore. I didn’t tell him how wrong he was. Nothing about today or any other part of my life was okay.
    He glanced down at the carnage. “No need to check for a pulse.”
    My stomach churned. I gulped at the acid building in my throat. Dr. Tattoo carried me up the steep embankment and set me on my feet, but kept his arm around me. I was grateful for the support as my legs wobbled. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed 9-1-1. I tried not to listen to his description of the body.
    He finished and studied me. “Are you all right?”
    Swallowing, I whispered. “No, not all right.” At least I could talk without breaking down. “I saw him and thought of my dad.” I shuddered. “I thought I’d put all of that behind me.” I glanced up at him, realizing he had no clue what I was talking about, but he nodded encouragingly so I kept going, “Four years ago my dad was attacked by a man named Panetti.” Crazy how that night elicited as many nightmares as the images of my parent’s dead bodies.
    Dr. Tattoo’s eyes darkened to a dangerous glint, it was almost like he hated Panetti as much as I did.
    “Do you know Panetti? He was a doctor at Logan Regional before he betrayed my dad.”
    He nodded. “I’ve heard the name.”
    “I can’t forget him jabbing a knife into my dad. I think he was the one that ordered my parent’s executions also.” I pulled away and shook my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know you and I’m going on and on.”
    He gave me a quick smile. “When you’ve been through something like this,” he gestured to the body, “You become friends quick.”
    I bit my lip, trying to hold in the tears. Friends. A friend who was there for me when I fell apart. I liked him. “Thanks.”
    Sirens blared through the comforting sound of the river splashing over rocks. Dr. Tattoo offered me a smile and a hand, directing me towards the bridge. I had no desire to tell my story to the police but at least I had a friend by my side.

Admitting the Truth
     

    I sifted through an enormous salad with my fork. The metal tines clicked against bright orange stoneware. I’d already devoured everything palatable in the bowl. The only food left was the lettuce and I was sick of green.
    I sat with my best friend, Tasha, at our favorite restaurant. Café Sabor was a converted train stationvibrant colors against beautiful restored wood, boisterous waiters, and the best Mexican food in Cache Valley.
    Of course Tasha and I didn’t allow ourselves to eat the wonderful specialties oozing with cheese. No, we ordered chicken salads, dressing on the side, and tried to contain the drool from the sights and smells of real food so we could justify Cold Stone for dessert.
    I set my fork down. Tasha had consumed enough calories to take the edge off. It was time to reveal my news.
      “You won’t believe this,” I threw out the disclaimer first to ease the shock, “but . . .” Pause several seconds