Chapter 12 - The Man on the Porch
Claire stood one inch from the door.
"Noah?"
"Claire, please."
Her eyes flooded.
For eleven months she had imagined this voice in dreams. Sometimes he came through the kitchen door carrying coffee. Sometimes he stood at the foot of the bed. Every time she woke before she could touch him.
"Say something only you would know," she called.
Silence.
Then: "The night we found out about the baby, you hid the test in the flour bin because Caleb was coming over and you weren't ready to tell anyone."
Claire made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob.
Mason's grip loosened.
"That wasn't in any police file," she said.
Caleb moved beside her. "Ask him about the blue tractor."
Claire did.
The man outside answered instantly. "I told Caleb it ran fine. It didn't. We pushed it downhill to start it for six months because we were too broke to replace the starter."
Caleb covered his face.
Mason opened the door but kept his weapon low.
Noah Bennett stood on the porch.
Thinner. Beard longer. A scar crossed his chin. But alive.
Claire could not move.
Neither could he.
Then his eyes dropped to her belly.
He stopped breathing.
"Claire..."
She crossed the space and hit him.
Once.
Open palm to the chest.
"You let me bury you."
He accepted the blow.
"I know."
She hit him again.
"You let me think you were dead."
"I know."
Then she grabbed his shirt and pulled him into her.
He held her carefully, shaking harder than she was.
For ten seconds, there was no conspiracy. No sheriff. No Voss. Just two people who had lost almost a year.
Then Scout growled.
Not at Noah.
At the tree line.
A red laser dot appeared on Noah's chest.
May you like
Mason shouted, "Down!"
The cabin window shattered.
