“Not because of fear.”
Austin let Lee’s words propel him forward, into the glassed-in conference room. Identifying the organization’s leadership had been impossible. No one used titles. Eventually, he’d asked someone random to point out a staff member (“you mean a church member? Sara is”), and he’d asked the church member to point out someone in leadership. She had pursed her lips, ticked options silently on her fingers, and then said, “I’m pretty sure Walt is here right now. As long as we’re housing y’all, we’re constantly rotating, but I think I saw him less than an hour ago.”
So strangers didn’t have the run of the building. The church was being subtle about it, but they recognized the need for supervision. That showed more sense than Austin had been giving them credit for. Probably more sense than he’d seen displayed at Elysium, which taught that people were too inherently sinless to rob you or harm your children.
When he stepped into the conference room, a man with a fringe of white hair and beard stood up from the long table. He offered a smile more cautious than welcoming. Good for him.
“Sara said you have information, and you asked to speak with an elder.”
“You make decisions for the church?” Austin didn’t let himself shift on his feet.
“I and others, yes. A board, elected by the members.”
Good enough. Austin nodded.
“Walton Cantrell.” He stepped forward and held out his hand.
Austin shook it firmly. See, I’m not a kid. “Austin Delvecchio. Sir, I don’t want you to discover this later and feel deceived. Actually, if I don’t tell you, you will have been deceived.”
Walton didn’t prod. He also didn’t reassure Austin that his sins were between him and God, and no one needed to tell anyone anything. This man seemed to be a sensible leader. Still, Austin’s mouth was dry. He cleared his throat against the silence, dug his wallet from his back pocket and held it out, open.
Walton backed up a step, stared from the badge to Austin’s face and back again.
“Michigan Constabulary. I’m an agent. I have no authority here, obviously, but back home, this is who I …” Am? Was? Would he ever have a word to finish that sentence?
“What are you doing here?” Walton’s voice was carefully level.
“I don’t know if you’ve met Violet DuBay, but I came with her and—”
“Violet? Does she know what you are?”
Something tightened in Austin’s face, in his gut. “She pushed me to tell you. She said you wouldn’t turn me out.”
There it lay between them, exposed, both of them knowing the test for what it was, tasting the flavor of manipulation. Don’t let me do it, Walton. Prove you’re smarter than that.
By turning him out? Was that what he wanted?
“I believe Violet mentioned more than one traveling companion,” Walton said.
So the girl had shared her biography with everyone here. “There are four of us.”
“I’ll be honest. You seem to be trying to do the same. I don’t understand how Christians accepted traveling with a Constabulary agent. Even once you’d left Michigan, you could have turned them in to any state at any time.”
And why he hadn’t was one of the things he’d sort out when he got to Australia. “They’ve known for the entire trip. How it happened is … a long, unpleasant story. But I have no intention of causing trouble here. I can’t legally, anyway.”
Walton eyed him, crossed the room, and turned back around. “Are you armed?”
“Not right now.”
The pistol nestled under his left arm, snug, safe, concealed by the loose-fitting shirt he’d shrugged over a crew-neck tee, left unbuttoned. Violet’s eyes would grow sad if she knew about the lie, but he wasn’t walking a plank even for her.
Best case scenario, Walton was armed and would try to put him down. Simple solution, final answers. He’d have a case to cite when he told Violet not to trust these people. He’d have a reason to walk away from Christians and their incomprehensible belief system. Maybe even a reason to go home, stop Jason somehow, and get back to work.
On the minus side, he might have to shoot somebody’s grandfather.
And lose his girl.
Walton studied him a moment, nodded, folded his arms. “I respect your decision to come forward.”
Part of Austin wanted to sigh his relief, and part of him wanted to smack the wall. “I assume you don’t want me to stay the night.”
“You’re not asking to join our membership. You’re asking for food and shelter.”
“Actually, I’m informing you of the fact you’ve had a Constabulary agent in your church for a few hours, and he might be back around occasionally to visit his friends. With your permission.”
“You have no money, son.” Walton’s eyes smiled, though his mouth remained tense.
How could he …? Austin huffed. “Violet.”
“You’re welcome to stay tonight. Long term, I’m not sure what we’ll decide. There is, of course, freedom here to put your past behind you and have it kept private. There’s also the fact that you represent—not saying you still are, but you represent—a vivid, real threat to many folks here. Seems they shouldn’t be kept in the dark about it, find out by accident later … what have you. But I guess we’ll deal with all that another day.”
Austin stopped his hand halfway to mussing his hair. “So you can make the call to give me a bed tonight.”
“Make the call?”
“It’s not something that needs a vote?”
Walton chuckled. “Jesus wouldn’t turn you out on the street because of your past. None of my fellow elders would expect me to either.”
How odd.
“I assume your service weapon is with your other belongings.”
The lie itched now. He nodded.
“And you’ll respect our property and leave it there.”
“Of course.”
“I don’t feel the need to force this issue, son, because your gun isn’t the only one on the premises.”
The man lifted his suit jacket. A silver handle jutted from a leather holster at his hip.
“It isn’t common knowledge, but you’re somewhat of an uncommon stranger.”
These people were sensible, after all. But he didn’t pull on you, even thinking you were unarmed.
“Thank you, sir.” For several things.
“You’re welcome, Austin.”