Page 52 of Unnatural
Sam followed warily. Autumn had told him that her adoptive father, Bill, had retrieved the medical supplies for her and brought them to the cottage so she could help Sam. He’d also dropped off a phone, some food, and the clothes Sam was wearing when Sam had been unconscious. He seemed to be helping them, but still, Sam remained cautious. The man obviously cared for Autumn, and it wasn’t good for Autumn to be helping Sam. He knew that and wouldn’t blame her father if he reported Sam to get his daughter away from him.
Autumn was giving the man a hug as Sam stepped inside, and she quickly let go and stepped back. “Sam, this is Bill. Bill, Sam.” She looked sort of nervous but also excited, as though she was showing her father something she wasn’t sure he’d approve of but hoped he would.
Bill stepped forward; his forehead creased with worry. He held out his hand.
Sam knew what a handshake was of course. But he didn’t think anyone—not one single soul—had ever offered. Hereached his hand out and took the other man’s in his.
“Sam,” Bill said very seriously. “I’m glad to see you looking well.”
“Bill,” he said. “Thank you for the pants.”
Bill gave a short laugh that turned into a cough, but he nodded. “Well, they’re not mine. We’re not exactly the same size. I picked them up at the… Oh anyway, I’m glad I could help.” He glanced at Autumn. “I trust my girl, Sam, but you have to know how dangerous this is for her. The police have to be looking for you.”
“What is the news saying?” Sam asked.
“They’re saying witnesses described a Good Samaritan who stepped in to help. They say you saved a lot of children.” Bill peered at Sam for a moment, assessing. “But they also think you’re involved and may have known that man. Some are wondering if you went there together, and you changed your mind while he didn’t.”
“That’s not true,” he muttered.
“You might want to consider contacting the authorities and letting them know.”
“No,” Sam said. “I can’t do that.” He paused. “Was there a…description put out of me?” If so, someone in the program would put two and two together. How many scarred, six foot six, muscular young men with white hair and tan skin were there in the world?
Bill’s gaze moved to Sam’s hair as if he was considering the same thing. “No,” he said. “Whoever reported your actions apparently didn’t get a very good look at you.”
Sam frowned, wondering how that was possible. His hat had come off, he remembered that. And he couldn’t have hidden his size no matter what he’d done. But maybe the person who saw him had been too traumatized by the sceneat large to recall any specifics. A knot of tension loosened inside him. If they didn’t have more details on his appearance, then maybe he had a chance of disappearing again without worrying every day of his life that he’d be spotted. Reported. Imprisoned.Killed.
And that meant Autumn was probably safe too. There was nothing to connect them. “I’m leaving soon,” he murmured. “And then Autumn can get back to her life.”
“Well…okay. All right. Where will you go?”
Sam shrugged. He didn’t know, but even if he did, it was better that he not tell Autumn or Bill. “What is the news saying about Autumn?”
“Nothing. They reported a woman who may have witnessed the shooting but nothing more than that. No description. Nothing. They don’t seem to thinkshewas involved, only that she may have seen something that might help investigators.”
Sam let out a breath of relief.
“So there’s no way for them to have traced Sam here?” Autumn asked.
“I don’t think so,” Bill answered. “Unless you don’t own that red truck and the owner reported it missing.”
“I don’t own it,” Sam told them. “It belongs to the man I was working for.”
“Even so,” Autumn cut in. “I don’t think the truck could be connected to the shooting in any way. It was parked pretty far away.”
That was true. Of course, Adam might have reported it stolen, but police would just think the old man was naive for trusting an unknown vagabond with his truck. Others would tell them Adam had a long history of being too trusting.
“What about the shooter?” Autumn asked, her eyes darting quickly to Sam and then away. “Have they identified him?”
“Oh yes. They know who he is. It was obvious he was planning the shooting.”
For a moment, Sam wondered who Amon had died as. Who had given his life so they could pin the crime on him? The question made his guts twist.
Bill looked at Autumn. “Have you thought any more about telling Sheriff Monroe about this? He might be able to help—”
“No,” she said. “No, I won’t put Ralph in that position. And I don’t think there’s anything he can do. We’re still talking things over, but I’ve been thinking about next steps, and I might have some leads.”
“Leads?” Sam asked. “What leads?”
