Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 311(@200wpm)___ 249(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Early the next morning, Sam drove us to the parking lot of a windswept beach. We used the public restroom, washed up a bit, and changed our clothes, before sitting down at a picnic table for a quick meal. Breakfast was composed of things we’d randomly tossed into the cart at the market—nothing fancy, but it did the job.
Before we got back in the car, we both took a moment to watch the waves breaking onto the shore. “It’s really nice here,” I murmured. “I wish I could enjoy it.”
I’d been able to relax at the cabin, because I’d felt safe there. But now, we were back out on the road, without a home base, and with no idea where the bad guys were or if they could track us. No wonder my worry had ratcheted right back up again.
I turned to look at Sam. He was worried, too. I could see it in his eyes. But for my sake, he smiled and tried to seem confident. He drew me into his arms and kissed my forehead before saying, “We’re going to be okay, Andy. I promise.”
I really wanted to believe that.
CHAPTER 16
SAM
The drive along the coast from northern California into Oregon was beautiful. At times, the highway wound along steep cliffs, with the endless expanse of the Pacific on one side and lush forests on the other. We rolled down the windows and turned on some music, and both of us focused on living in the moment. The wind in my hair and Andy’s hand on my thigh felt wonderful, and I could feel some of my tension draining away.
In the afternoon, we stopped in a little town called Florence to fuel up the car and take a break from driving. We ate lunch at a sandwich shop, and my eyes kept darting to the door every time someone entered. I knew I was being paranoid, though. No one could possibly know where we were, and the bad guys weren’t about to come barging in.
After lunch, Andy wanted to take a walk before getting back in the car. When I spotted a public library, I said, “Let’s go inside and look up Arden Harington and his family.”
We obviously could have done an internet search on our phones, but I wanted to be a hundred percent sure that no one knew about our plans. If SPAM or anyone else was monitoring our phones somehow, that would lead them right to us.
Not that I said that to Andy. I was trying to come across as confident and unworried for his sake, and this distrustful shit wasn’t a good look.
I wasn’t prepared for the way he lit up when we entered the library. It was like that old cliché about a kid in a candy shop. He hurried over to the first display he saw, which was a collection of books on local history. Then he flipped one open and started reading it.
When I told him, “I’m going to be right over there, at those computers,” he nodded and kept reading.
It only took about fifteen minutes to gather all kinds of information on Arden Harington and his family. Andy’s exploration of the library took considerably longer. I watched him hurry past me several times as he checked out every department. At one point, he told me, “It’s killing me that I can’t check anything out.” That didn’t stop him from taking it all in, though.
Finally, he ended up at a table near the exit. When I joined him, he was reading a paperback. According to the sign, this was a used book sale set up by the Friends of the Library, so I said, “Not that you need my permission, but you should get yourself some books.”
He looked up at me with hope in his eyes. “Really?”
“Of course.”
“It doesn’t seem silly, weighing us down with a bunch of books when we’re on the move?”
“Definitely not.”
He smiled at me and started grabbing things off the table. “They have that spy thriller, the one you bought me back at the motel. I never got to finish it, and I wanted to find out what happened.”
In all, he selected eleven books. I helped him carry them to the counter, and after a volunteer totaled them up, Andy frowned. “I got carried away.”
I handed over some money and assured him, “It’s fine. Really. We haven’t been spending all that much, and we still have plenty of cash.”
We divvied up the pile, and as I helped him carry the books to the car, I asked, “Why’d you leave your job at the university library and go to work for SPAM? Libraries are obviously your happy place.”
“I’m twenty-eight years old and still living at home, so in part, it was because of the big step up in pay. I don’t have to tell you how expensive San Francisco is, and I couldn’t afford to move out on my old salary. I mean, maybe I could have if I’d found a place with a ton of roommates, but I hated the idea of living with strangers.”