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“I don’t know. Harry has proven he can handle himself. The person from town who came to alert us is a kid I trust. He said he would do all he could to help as well. Get us messages if the situation changed at all. We haven’t heard back from him yet. But we’re hoping to.”
“So what can I do?” She tried to anchor herself to some sort of resolve. Some kind of direction she could move in. Because if not, she’d burst with anger and fury.
“The woman we have here, Topeka, you can talk with her. Or you can try. She’s had very little to say since we found out she’d brought a cell phone and broke protocol. That decision has put countless lives in danger. When we confronted her with that, she shut down.”
“You think she’ll talk to me? Why?”
“Maybe she won’t.” Kenan sighed. “Mick seemed to think you’d be able to get through to her. Or maybe he was saying whatever it would take to get you here. I don’t know.” For the first time in this conversation, Kenan seemed to be wavering in his own convictions. He’d seemed so sure when they started talking. As if those difficult decisions they’d made were all completely right, and now he wasn’t sure.
She spoke just above a whisper. “I wish I’d known Harry was alive. I wish I’d had a chance to talk to him before he signed on to do this. I’d have told him he didn’t have any debt to pay. He’d done right by me, Nathaniel, and everyone else he’d tried to help.” She covered her forehead with her hand. “Which is maybe why we weren’t able to talk to each other to begin with.”
“It’s not always as calculated as it sounds.”
“Are Nathaniel and I safe here?”
“Yes. And we’re working to make sure it stays that way. If you trust Mick, please know that he trusts me.”
“He vouched for you too,” she said, her glance still stern. “When I talk to this woman, Topeka. What exactly am I supposed to talk to her about?”
“She has vital information about corruption on a very high level in a federal agency. Coming here, showing her she was safe was our end of the bargain. She’s been reluctant to hold up her end.”
“You need to know what she knows?”
“Yes.”
“And what do you do with the information when she gives it to you?”
“The same thing we did for you. Look at who is implicated. Find out who we can trust. Who won’t bury the evidence. Take down the people who need to be taken down. Give Topeka her life back. You know something about that.”
“So am I a success story or cautionary tale?”
Kenan shrugged. “I guess we don’t know yet.”
CHAPTER 16
Harry's legs moved almost mechanically, each step sheer willpower. The endless hours of walking had taken their toll, leaving him disheveled. His clothes were torn and dirty, his face marked by the wild brush he had fought through, and his body ached with every movement. When the gravel road finally gave way to asphalt, a glimmer of hope sparked within him, though he was well aware of the challenges that lay ahead. His appearance was bound to make anyone hesitant to offer help, and the language barrier only compounded his situation.
Just as despair was about to take hold, the rumble of an engine drew near. A truck, its flatbed laden with crates of vegetables, approached. Harry didn't hesitate; he stepped to the edge of the road, waving his arms in a universal plea for assistance. The truck slowed, and Harry prepared to speak, to somehow convey his urgent need for help despite the language barrier.
But the driver, a middle-aged man with a weathered face that spoke of long days under the sun, merely nodded toward the passenger seat, his gesture needing no translation. Harry's initial relief was tinged with skepticism at this unexpected openness. He laughed inside. Now he was the skeptical one.
"Gio?" the man ventured, a questioning lilt to his voice. "Gio's friend?"
Harry, taken aback by the mention of Gio's name, could only manage a weary smile and a nod. The news of his presence in the area, it seemed, had traveled faster than he could have anticipated. Was Gio truly spreading the word about him, asking people to be on the lookout for him? Help him if they could? It was such a generous gesture.
Gratefully, Harry climbed into the passenger seat, his body finally acknowledging the limits of its endurance. The pain and exhaustion he had held at bay came crashing down, a tidal wave of physical and emotional fatigue.
The driver, sensing Harry's dire state, reached into a small paper bag and offered him a pastry. Harry, too famished to refuse, accepted the food with a voracity that surprised even himself. When the man handed him a jug of water, Harry drank deeply, his gratitude spilling over in a cascade of rushed thanks between mouthfuls. They didn’t speak the same language but they seemed to be communicating perfectly on a human level.
Within minutes of handing back the water jug, sleep overtook him. He had vowed to remain vigilant, to reach the safety of the town before allowing himself the luxury of rest. But his body had other ideas, succumbing to the exhaustion that enveloped him like a dense fog.
As sleep drew him into its embrace, Harry's thoughts drifted toward the concept of fate. For so long, he had viewed his life through the lens of misfortune, a series of trials and tribulations that seemed to confirm his cursed existence. But in that moment, as he was carried toward an unknown destination by the kindness of a stranger, he began to reconsider.
Perhaps the very fact that he had survived, had overcome each obstacle thrown in his path, was not evidence of a curse but a testament of being blessed by something divine. A certain luckthat had shielded him from the worst outcomes. In the quiet of the truck's cabin, as the landscape passed by in a blur, Harry allowed himself to entertain the notion that maybe, just maybe, fate had been on his side all along.
When Harry finally arrived back in town, the relief that flooded through him was palpable. The truck pulled up to a small, nondescript house nestled on a quiet street—a place Harry didn't recognize. As he stepped out, his body protesting every movement, he was immediately ushered inside by Gio, who seemed to have been expecting him.
The interior was modest but welcoming, filled with concerned faces that Harry had seen around town but couldn't quite place. Among them was the priest, a calming presence with a gentle demeanor, and the bookstore owner, whose establishment Harry had come to appreciate during his time in town. There were others too, familiar strangers whose worry for him was evident in their expressions.
