Page 89 of Lethal Deceit

Caleb scratches his stubble. “Sit down, Mick.”

Something in my chest snaps—right along with what’s left of my hope. “Is it Brooke? Is she…”

Adena hastily shakes her head. “Nothing has changed.”

Jake enters the room, eating pizza, and strolls to the window. “Clear,” he says.

My eyes dart to him then back to Caleb, who gets to his feet. “Your phone isn’t lost. Samantha took it out of your pocket when she kissed you.”

Cold seeps into my veins, chased by white-hot anger as I scan the faces watching me.

The tears. The emotion. None of it was real.

Of course she can fake cry. She’s probably done it a hundred times to get what she wants.

I spin on my heel and storm down the hall toward the bedroom where Samantha put on her little show. I throw the door open so hard it bangs into the wall and sticks.

The room is empty. A soft breeze filters through the open window—she’s gone. Climbed out. Ran.

Rage rises like a tide, choking off thought. I whirl around, ready to confront Caleb, when something flutters on the bed.

A piece of paper.

I snatch it up, and the second I read the four words scribbled across the page, the fury drains from me—replaced by something far worse.

So others might live.

Samantha

Following Adena’s rushed instructions, I slip into the adjacent property just as the first drops of rain begin to fall. This is the worst possible time to get caught outside—and an even worse time to be seen lurking in someone’s backyard.

If the nosy old man decides to come calling now, I won’t even have a chance to hide.

The air feels charged, like the storm isn’t just weather but warning. Another drop falls, slow and deliberate, and heavy clouds roll in overhead, casting the whole street in a deep, oppressive gloom.

Jake said the owners wouldn’t be back for at least an hour. I’m counting on that. But all it takes is one neighbor looking out their window and calling the cops.

Increasing my pace, I cross the street so I can walk in the opposite direction. It’s been over ten minutes since I climbed out the bedroom window. By now Mick will know I’m gone. He’ll know I deceived him, and he’ll know Hightower has too.

He’s going to be furious.

My footsteps falter, trepidation and fear making me clumsy, but I can’t stop now. I’ve committed, and there’s a chance the men have already seen me approaching. I concentrate on breathing and placing one foot in front of the other, flexing my hands to try to keep them from trembling. If I don’t pull it together, I’m going to mess this up, and people will die.

Mick’s phone vibrates from inside my pocket, and I jump. I have to stop walking to check in case it’s the men holding Brooke replying to my text, so I pull it out and glance down at the screen. It’s a message, but it’s not the reply I was anticipating.

Will you be at church on Sunday? Dad and I would love you to come.

His mom. His pretty and kind mother is trying to contact him. The mother who raised him and made him the kind of man who would risk his life to save someone else's even though she nearly got him killed.

Numbness starts to spread through my body, and I pick up my pace, holding the phone so tight that my hand starts to cramp. I turn the corner and jut my shoulders back, raising my chin so my posture exudes a confidence I don’t feel. Everything in me wants to run, but as I get closer, I realize that might be the worst thing I could do.

Someone is watching me. I can just make out a shadow standing in the front room facing the street. No lights are on. The curtains are all drawn. But from this angle I can make out vehicles parked behind the house. Behind the vehicles is the swamp, and the sight of it makes me shudder. If Luke is perched on the neighboring roof, I can’t see him, and if Silas is hidden somewhere in the overgrown piece of land next to the house, he’s invisible too.

I clear my throat, preparing to project my voice as loudly as I can. “As-Salaam-Alaikum,” I call out.

The shadow disappears. My hands are getting clammy, and my heart is pounding so violently I’m in danger of passing out. I keep moving closer, not quickly, but not slowly either. Giving them plenty of time to adjust to seeing me approaching.

Too many people in the neighborhood are at home for them to risk shooting me in the open like this, but once I’m inside…

---