Inside, I could smell all sorts of fresh-cooked foods. Pizza. Fried chicken. Chocolate cake. I didn’t know where to start.

None of us said a single word for the first ten minutes of the meal. We’d been subsisting on old food that came out of packages, and it was nice to finally have something hearty.

When the boys went up for a second helping, I dodged the lunch buffet and headed for the dessert section, my eyes filling with the sight of so many chocolaty things. I grabbed a lava brownie and headed back to our booth.

Sam had forgone the second plate. Instead of eating, he was holding the scrap of paper he’d found in the fireproof box, scrutinizing it.

When he saw me he stood up, allowing me to slide in ahead of him. “Did you decipher the message yet?” I asked.

He shoved his empty plate aside when the waitress came to clear the table. She was a tiny thing, with cinnamon-red hair tamed into a sleek ponytail. She eyed Sam with a look that was both apprising and hungry. I inched closer to him, pretending to look over the note, my brownie all but forgotten.

Sam told the waitress thank you as she flitted away. I didn’t move, even though I should have, even though we were closer than was strictly necessary.

When his knee bumped mine, a shiver of delight started in my spine and raced clear up to my skull. He smelled like woodsmoke and Ivory soap. I was close, but I wanted to be closer. I wanted to press the line of my body against his.

“Mashed potatoes!” Cas shouted as he slid into the booth. “Pot roast. Butter rolls. Heaven.”

I scooted back over, catching a knowing look from Trev as he took his spot next to Cas.

“Any idea what the message says yet?” Trev asked, cutting his chicken into neat, bite-size pieces.

Sam downed the rest of his ice water. “I think it’s a Caesar cipher.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“It’s a way of coding messages,” Trev said. “Julius Caesar used it when he needed to communicate with his generals. To break it, you shift the letters of the alphabet over three spaces, so A becomes D, B becomes E, and so on.”

“Does that work on this message?”

Sam shook his head.

Cas, having already polished off half his meal, looked up for the briefest of moments. “Sammy wouldn’t use the obvious way to decode it.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Trev added.

Nick finally rejoined us, carrying a plate full of veggies. “Why do we even have to figure it out? I’m fine with staying at the cabin.” Sam shot Nick a look, and Nick visibly stiffened. “What?” Nick said, leaning closer. “Digging this shit up is only going to make it worse. You know that, right?”

Sam didn’t say anything.

“Do you think this has anything to do with the letter scars?” I asked, trying to defuse the situation.

“Already tried it,” Sam said, when he and Nick stopped glaring at each other.

When we left the restaurant, we crossed the parking lot to the massive Cook Towne Mall. Our first stop was at R & J Cellular, where Sam bought two prepaid cell phones. Trev took one phone, Sam the other. We split up. Cas and Trev headed for a sporting-goods shop, while Nick disappeared into the bookstore café, muttering something about needing caffeine more than a pair of jeans.

Sam and I went to one of the trendier clothing stores, tucked between the bookstore and an upscale candle shop.

“What am I getting, exactly?” I asked.

For the first time since we’d left the lab, Sam looked extremely uncomfortable. His hands hung in loose fists at his sides, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. His eyes darted around, marking the exits, though I wondered whether he meant to escape potential threats or a jeans fitting.

“You can get whatever you want,” he said, then disappeared behind a rack of T-shirts.

I went to the jeans section and dug through the sizes until I found a fit I liked. I passed a wall of fall skirts and sweater dresses, coming up alongside a display of fleece scarves. A vibrant purple scarf caught my attention and I paused, thinking of the photo of my mother. In it she wore a scarf much like this one. Except hers wasn’t fleece, or at least I didn’t think it was. Hers was made of a shiny material that hung in billowy folds around her neck.

Homesickness overcame me, swallowing me whole. I fingered the material of the scarf, wondering about all the things that made up my old life, and how much of that life was true. My mother. My father. My house. The lab.

If I found my mother at the end of this journey, what then? I was afraid of what the reunion might uncover. I was afraid of what I’d feel when I realized my father had truly lied to me.

I picked up a few long-sleeved shirts, and on impulse grabbed the scarf, too. On my way to the fitting room, I ran into Sam. He had taken off his jacket and shrugged into a new coat. Made of a thick black canvas, with a zipper at the front and a row of buttons to double it up, it looked more like him than anything I’d seen him wear so far. The gray pants and white T-shirt he’d worn in the lab had never done him justice.

“Are you getting that?” I asked.

He straightened the collar. “I don’t know. I have a coat, but this seems more practical. It’s thick, but lightweight. Easy to run in.”

“And it looks good.”

His gaze darted up to meet mine. A question hung there between us. What are you doing, Anna? I was treading dangerously close to a line I knew I shouldn’t cross. A line Sam had built up with bricks and cement. And KEEP OUT signs.

Retreat! the voice in my head shouted. And quickly.

I hoisted up my load of clothing. “I’m trying this stuff on,” I said and hurried toward the fitting room.

Inside, I hung the items on the wall hooks and admonished my reflection in the full-length mirror. My cheeks were pink from leftover embarrassment. No more thinly veiled flirting, I told myself. No more ogling Sam. No more.

I stepped out of my jeans and slipped into a new pair. The flare-cut dragged on the floor, so I tried the boot cut next. They fit perfectly. I ran through Sam’s listed requirements. Light. Sturdy. Easy to run in, should I need to run.

I stared at myself, wondering who that girl was, the one buying jeans according to the way she could move in them. My life had changed so drastically in a few short days.

I left the jeans on, hoping the salesgirl would accept only the tag at the register. As I pulled off my shirt, I heard the fitting room attendant greeting a customer: “Hi. How many… Hey, you can’t—”

“Take this,” I heard Sam say. “If a man comes through asking about a boy and a girl, we were never here.”

“Dude, I don’t know…” the attendant said.

“Anna?” Sam called. “Open the door.”

“What?” I was shirtless, standing there in jeans and a pale green bra.

“Now, Anna!”

I let him in. He shut the door and pushed me to the far corner of the stall. He pressed a finger to my lips and breathed. “Shhhhh.”

I managed a nod as his eyes flicked down, seeing my bra and nothing else. Frenzied butterflies took flight in my stomach. I could hear my heartbeat in my head and wondered if Sam could hear it, too, if he could sense what I felt. His eyes moved again to my mouth. With his finger gone, there was nothing between us. I licked my lips. My breath fluttered helplessly behind my teeth.

“Can I help you with something?” The attendant’s voice carried through the fitting room.

A deep voice answered, one I didn’t recognize. “I’m looking for a young man and woman. They look like this.”

Sam leaned into me, bringing with him the scent of new canvas. His breath touched the curve of my neck, pouring a chill down my spine.

“You know,” the attendant said, “I think I saw them….”

“Where?” the man asked.

“Um…” The attendant shuffled his feet. “They were just here about fifteen minutes ago.”

“If you see them again,” the man said, “call this number.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

The agent’s shoes squeaked over the polished floor as he left. Sam retreated, and an aching cold filled the space he left behind. I grabbed a shirt and slid into it, wanting to escape before the agent returned.

“Hey,” the attendant said through the door, “he’s gone.”

Shoulders rigid, Sam avoided looking at me as he asked, “The clothes work okay?”

In the mirror, I saw the color in my cheeks grow darker. If Sam didn’t know what I felt for him before, he surely knew now. I was stupid to allow him to get to me. Stupid for wishing it had gone farther than it had. “What? Yeah. Fine.”

“Then we need to leave.”

Hands shaking, I tugged on my shoes as Sam opened the door. The attendant waited on the other side, eyes wide, sweat beading on his forehead. “Dude, that was heavy. I don’t know if I can take this.” He held out a few twenty-dollar bills.

“Keep it. And we’re taking these jeans and a T-shirt and a coat. I think this should cover it.” He handed over a short stack of bills.

“No, this is too much….”

“Keep whatever’s left.”

Sam poked his head around the fitting room exit, scanning the store. He grabbed my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “Don’t run unless you see one of them, but walk fast. Head straight for the store’s entrance. We’re going right when we hit the mall concourse.”

“Okay,” I said as he tugged me from our hiding spot.

My mouth went dry as soon as we reached the main part of the mall. Everyone looked like a Branch man. Every cell phone looked like the butt of a gun. I blinked back the blurriness edging my vision.

Sam called Trev on the cell. “Meet us back in the food court. They’re here.” He hung up and slid the phone into his jacket pocket.

We were quickly swept up in the movement of the crowd. The closer we came to the food court, the more I hoped we’d lost the agents. If there were only one or two men, it’d be nearly impossible for them to spot us.

But when we rounded into the children’s play area, I froze at the sight of a familiar face, at the pressed navy blue suit and no-nonsense expression.

“Sam.” I tugged him back.

The man looked up and locked eyes with me.

Riley had found us.

18

“STOP THEM!” RILEY YELLED.

The command had the opposite effect. The crowd parted. People pressed themselves against storefronts, windows, and walls, as if we were infectious. Shouts and gasps sounded around us. A second agent raced in our direction, his gun out.

Sam cut left. Gawkers gathered in the mall median, capturing video of our escape with their cell phones. A gate slammed shut over a candle shop. The median thinned out.

We barreled into a clothing store. I clipped the edge of a display, knocking it over. Tank tops spilled everywhere. I lost my momentum. The agent, a man I didn’t know, pointed the gun at me. Teeth gritted, lips pursed, he slid his trigger finger into place.

Sam’s hand clamped down on my wrist and wrenched me back. We ran. Left. Right. Winding through displays, around people, gasping, shrieking.

My knees were numb; I felt like I was running on leftover adrenaline and nothing else.

Sam steered us into a back room, slammed his way through an emergency exit. An alarm cut a shrill note above us. Daylight momentarily blinded me. We emerged into an alleyway surrounded by Dumpsters and broken merchandise.

We’d just started for the parking lot when a gun clicked and Riley cut us off.

“You’ve caused a lot of trouble,” he said, panting, as his partner smashed through the exit.

I knew Sam had a gun hidden beneath his new coat, but he hadn’t reached for it yet, and I wondered if he relished the idea of taking Riley out with his bare hands.

“Arms behind your back,” Riley ordered, pointing the gun at me, “or I’ll shoot her.”