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Verity gently pats my shoulder—one of the few places not bruised. “God’s called you into His service, Samantha. And He’s not letting you go.”

Alice nods, and Adena’s voice drifts in from the other side of the screen. “Amen. And neither are we. As soon as we’re done here, we’re heading back to Jericho.”

Jericho?

I glance at Verity, confused. “What about the FBI? Mick said they’re waiting.”

Verity wrinkles her nose. “Well… Mick’s a great guy, but he’s not Hightower.”

Adena chuckles. “We can’t tell him all our secrets.”

Still baffled, I try to sit up. Alice helps me. “Secrets like what?”

Verity slides her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, lifting one brow. “Even if the FBI pardons you, you still know people who could make things… difficult.”

I rub my temple, trying to think, but the headache’s winning. “I know.”

Alice voices the question I haven’t said aloud, turning to Verity. “So what are you going to do to keep Samantha safe?”

Adena appears, exchanging a look with Verity. “That’s where Brooke comes in.”

Brooke peeks around the curtain, grinning as she touches her split lip with a wince. “I’m going to write your obituary.”

Epilogue

Mick

Two weeks later…

I stare at the red phone on my couch and can’t believe Hightower managed to get into my apartmentagain.

Ineeda better security system. I was only gone for thirty minutes.

Frustrating as it is, I’m desperate for news of Samantha, and if this is how Silas Hightower is going to communicate, so be it. I snatch up the phone and read the message on screen, smiling when I see who sent it.

Delilah.

It’s all the confirmation I need, so I tap out a reply, add an emoji to it, then stalk around my apartment, wishing I’d thought to check in with Brooke again. She’s been way too blasé about what happened, and I’m a little concerned it’s an act she’s keeping up for my benefit.

Brooke will have to wait. I need advice—no judgment, no questions—and there’s only one person I trust to give it straight. I check the battery on my phone, glance at my watch, then hit call.

Dad’s always been an early riser, and since Brooke and I moved out, he’s kept to the same schedule even though he’s retired. He picks the phone up on the second ring, and emotion tugs at me when I note the concern in his voice. “Ahoy, all okay? Limbs attached? Nothing bleeding?”

I smile at his greeting. “Ahoy to you. All’s well. I just need to pick your brain about a few things.”

He chuckles. “I’ll start the meter running. You can pay me when I see you at church.”

My father is as subtle as Silas Hightower is. They’d probably get along great.

“Where are you anyway?” he asks. “Brooke said you’re taking some time off, but now she’s disappeared too.”

Normally that wouldn’t be an issue. If she’s working a story, she’s been known to go to ground, and it’s days, sometimes weeks, before we hear from her. But it’s brainless to do so without stopping to consider she could have lost her life.

“I’m hanging with some… new friends.”

“Ah. Thought you two were conspiring. Is she working on a hot story again?”

I shrug, even though he can’t see me. I get he’s thinking about Brooke, but I don’t have a lot of time before I have to leave for my judicial hearing. “She is. So, listen, I have a couple hard questions to ask you. You got time to answer?”