Chapter 3

The next morning, Sarah was found unconscious in her cell.

A small, empty pill bottle lay beside her hand.

The label was worn, the pharmacy name local.

She' d hoarded them, medication Mr. Henderson used to give out sometimes, samples or expired stock he got from somewhere. He' d called it "helping out" people who couldn' t afford a doctor.

They rushed her to the hospital.

She recovered, slowly, under police guard.

Officer Kowski stood by her bed when she woke, his arms crossed, his face a mask of contempt.

"Trying to take the easy way out, Sarah? After what you did? You don' t get to escape that easy."

His voice was harsh.

Sarah just looked at the ceiling.

Detective Williams came in later, after Kowski had left. He pulled up a chair.

"That was a close call, Sarah."

She didn' t respond.

"The pills," Williams said, his voice neutral. "We traced them. They match a batch found at Mr. Henderson' s ranch. From his private stash."

He watched her face for any reaction. There was none.

"We also searched your room at your uncle' s house. Found what looks like burned paper in your trash can. Our lab guys are good, Sarah. They think they can get something off the ashes, even if it' s just fragments. From your journals, maybe?"

He leaned in a little.

"You wrote things down, didn' t you? Things you couldn' t say."

Still silence.

"Why, Sarah?" Williams pressed, his voice gentle but firm. "Why would you try to kill yourself? And why would you do that to them? To Pastor David, who took you in? To Mr. Henderson, who people say was like a grandfather to this town, to you?"

He paused. "They seemed to care so much. The whole town is mourning them, calling them heroes, benefactors."

Sarah turned her head slowly, looking at him for the first time since she woke.

Her eyes were hollow, but a tiny spark flickered deep inside.

"Care?" she whispered, the word a wisp of sound, laced with something dark and bitter.