Page 79 of Unnatural
Autumn watched a small muscle in Sam’s jaw as it clenched and unclenched. She leaned forward and put her hand on his arm, and he turned his face to her.
“I know you helping us is a risk, Sam, now more than ever. I know you’re afraid the authorities will take you into custody to question you about the shooting. But you can corroborate what I’ve reported about the woods. And we can’t run forever. Those people killed someone you cared for. If we report what we know…there must besomeonewho can help us, who will give us the protection of…whistleblowers or…something. Sam?”
He had turned his face back to the fire. “I’ve done illegal things, Autumn. Things that would not be overlooked by law enforcement,” he said stoically.
“I…well, I mean…I figured you were sent to do things that soldiers do, but you were part of a program. Sam…whatever you’ve done, you did because other people directed you.”
“I stilldidthose things.”
Will you tell me about it, Sam?The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back, fear swirling in her belly. Maybe now wasn’t the time. Perhaps they were already dealing with enough as it was.
Sam watched her, then looked away, lowering his shoulders as though trying to make himself smaller. Autumn reached out her hand to him. She sensed she was letting him down in some very important way, and though she wanted to fix it, she was so incredibly torn.I’m not loving him right. But I’m scared too. How do I do this?
The situation was so complicated, so uncharted, so terrifying, and Autumn was equal parts frustrated, afraid, and just downright sad. She was desperate to help him, to find justice for them and so many others, and to figure out a way to move forward and find safety.
Because she loved him.There must be a way to figure this out.
“I almost didn’t return today. I’m a safety risk to you, Autumn. But I couldn’t…” He let out a gust of breath.
“What?” She gripped his arm. “No. Sam, you have to promise me, no matter what, that you won’t leave without telling me. I couldn’t bear that. I couldn’t bear wondering if you’re okay.”
“You can bear more than you think. You’re the strongest person I know.”
“Sam, please—”
Before she could say another word, the sound of a vehicle met her ears, and they both turned toward the front door.
Autumn’s eyes flew to Sam’s, fear jolting her. “Whoever it is isn’t trying to sneak up on us. It’s probably Bill.” Bill had told her he was meeting with clients today. She’d planned to update him on her trip to Kaden’s tomorrow. But maybe his schedule had changed.
But Sam had gone to his duffel bag and pulled out a weapon. Autumn gasped at the sight of it as he took her arm and positioned himself in front of her next to the door. It happened in an instant, his movements those of someone trained to expect untold definitions of “trouble.”
The knock came then, and neither of them moved.
“Autumn Clancy?” came the voice of a man.
She met Sam’s eyes, and he brought a finger to his lips.
“My name is Agent Mark Gallagher. Sheriff Monroesent me,” the man called, his voice muffled through the wooden wall.
Sheriff Monroe sent an agent here?
As if the agent outside had heard her internal question, he said, “The sheriff told me to use the password Boston cream doughnuts. He said that’s how you’d know I could be trusted.”
Autumn’s breath gusted from her mouth. “Let him in,” she told Sam. Sam looked at her suspiciously, but she tipped her chin. “The first day I came to live with Bill, he took me out to dinner in town and told me I should order whatever I wanted. I ordered Boston cream doughnuts. Only people who’ve known me since I was fourteen know that. Plus,” she added, “if the guy on the other side of the door wanted to harm us, would he really be waiting for us to open this rickety door instead of merely kicking it in?” She’d whispered all that, and Sam squinted as he listened. She implored him with her eyes. They’d just been wrestling with what came next, and now this man was here—this agent—sent by someone she trusted more than almost anyone in the world. And he was offering them help through the door as if he’d shown up in answer to their call.
He glanced to the rickety door and then back to her, his shoulders lowering, apparently conceding at least that point.
“We need help, Sam. Maybe he can offer some.”
“And if he can’t?”
“He leaves, and then we do too.”
His eyes moved over her face, and something resolute came into his expression. She saw his muscles loosen, and then he stuffed his weapon in the back waistband of his jeans and walked to the door.
When he opened it, a good-looking older man stood on the other side, his mostly gray hair cut short, wearing jeans and a fleece-lined canvas jacket. His eyes went to Sam, his expression registering no surprise, as though he’d expected to see the very large, white-haired man standing next to Autumn.
“I’m only here to offer help. I’m not a threat, I promise. I know you both were at Deercroft that day, and I know you’re both innocent,” the agent said.
