Page 32 of Running to You

Tears leaked out between her closed lids, dripped down her cheeks.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He took his handkerchief from his pocket and held it out to her, tapping her arm so she’d open her eyes. “We’re okay.”

“You could have been killed. It would’ve been my fault.” Her voice was high and squeaky. She looked his way, eyes filled with fear and pain. “What is going on, Sam? I don’t understand.”

He shouldn’t do it. Told himself not to. But when she didn’t take his handkerchief, he reached across the space and brushed the tears from her face with his fingers. Her skin was soft and warm.

She blinked those large eyes. So vulnerable. So beautiful.

He pulled his hand back. “We should go to the police.”

“No!” The word came out loud as she jerked up, then pressed her hands to her skull. “Ow, ow, ow.”

He waited until she settled again. “Why not?”

“They’ll find us if we go to the police.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t… I don’t know how I know, but I do. We can’t.”

He squeezed the steering wheel, trying to tame his frustration. “Can we call them at least, tell them what happened?”

“Um… Maybe? Yeah, but we can’t tell anybody where we’re going. That is, if you’re… If we’re…”

“Fine.” He knew what she was asking. He opened his navigation system and reversed out of the space, aiming for the interstate. The goons were surely gone now. Please, let them be gone.

Somehow, they’d gotten out of that. Lord, direct me. Direct us.

Sam was trying to get into the habit of praying. He knew God, he’d trusted Him for salvation, he tried to follow the rules—something he hadn’t done with Eliza but was careful about now—but he’d been managing the day-to-day operations of his own life. He’d asked God to help him rely on Him, and apparently, God was answering that request in a big way.

Because this situation was way outside his wheelhouse.

His plan had been to dump Eliza—and yeah, he heard the coldness in the word—on her mother. She’d left him, after all. She wasn’t his problem.

But her mother was gone. Phone disconnected. Off social media.

Weird enough, but when added to what they’d learned today, and then the attack…?

Something was going on, something dangerous.

Which left Sam with two choices. Leave Eliza against her will at the police station and go on with his life.

Or take responsibility for her.

He checked from mirror to mirror, window to window, searching for the van. No sign of it. They weren’t being followed. Assuming the people in the white pickup weren’t her enemies—and why would they have dropped her off if they were…?

Yeah, there really wasn’t a choice.

He aimed the car toward home.

* * *

Sam paced the length of the deck behind his house. Gray clouds hovered overhead, threatening rain, and the ocean breeze had kicked up, chilling his skin. But he barely noticed.

Daniel had been examining Eliza for twenty minutes, Camilla acting as nurse. Sam had wanted to stay, but Daniel insisted he leave.

“I need to examine her, and you're getting on my nerves.”