Page 118 of The Saint

“And…? She beat you up?”

“It’s fake, Camden. Like some kind of CIA medicine that messed me up. I don’t know. But she saved me, and if anyone finds out…” She shook her head. “I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know who knows.”

Camden worked the new information over in his head. It didn’t make sense. “They’re tearing Hailey’s place apart. Looking in the walls and imaging the floorboards.”

“Why?”

“I was hoping you would know that.” He let out a deep breath. “They think she might’ve been a double agent. The both of you.”

Amelia’s mouth fell open. Then her eyes closed. She seemed to grow smaller by the second. “Hailey’s dead.”

Shit.He’d been sure Hailey wasn’t alive, but Amelia sounded as though she’d learned news that had erased all of her hope. “You’re certain?”

“The man from the party. The one from that night, who chased me. He killed her.” Her lips trembled. “Esme knows more. She will help me find Hailey—” Her voice broke. “To bury.”

Camden checked his mirrors and pulled onto a side street. The houses were quiet. No one was even walking a dog or strolling down the sidewalk. He parked and pulled Amelia to his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

She sniffled. “I mean, it’s been so long. It didn’t make sense that she was hiding or someone took her without asking for ransom or something. I just had hoped.”

That was one of the things he loved about her. Camden stroked the back of her head.

“I kept thinking back to that night,” she sniffed. “If only I’d run faster, if I’d done what they said to do quicker—” She stiffened in his arms. “Oh my God.”

A shiver shot up his spine. “What?”

“Oh my God.” Amelia pulled back and pressed her fingers to her temples. She scrunched her eyes shut and doubled over, almost as if she was in pain. Maybe she was.

“Amelia? What?”

“They were chasing me. Not killing me. Then Esme kept asking me what Hailey and Jonathan told me.” She shook her head. “They didn’t say anything.” Amelia leaned back in her chair and stared out the windshield as if concentrating on a detail a thousand miles away. Her head cocked. “They’re searching Hailey’s house?”

He nodded.

“They’re not going to find it.”

His stomach bottomed out. “Find what?”

“Jonathan gave me something that night. I—” She shook her head. “I forgot. It was so trivial. I was concentrating so hard on the code words. Finding the right house. Not dropping the damn key.”

“What did they give you?”

“An old book.”

That didn’t make sense. “How big was it?”

“I don’t know. Just an old book. Like the antique-looking ones that people buy as props. You know? Where all the spines look the same. To show off. Not to read.”

“What happened to it?”

She pressed her fingers to her temples. “Jonathan tucked it under my arm. I didn’t drop it. God, I can’t remember everything from that night. I was so scared—” Her eyes widened. “I left in the kitchen.”

“You’re sure?”

“I don’t know.” She bit her lip. “No. It was so stupid. So random. I forgot I was even holding it.” She grabbed his arm. “You heard me that night. I wasn’t my best.”

Actually, she was. That might have been the first night they talked, but he’d never known anyone forced into a situation like that, unarmed and untrained, who came out the other side.

“We’ve got a new safe house.” He caught her mistrustful stare. “Titan set it up. No connections or contact with the CIA.”

---