Free Altered by Jennifer Rush Page A

show up to the town potluck.” The man looked from Sam to me, and then back to Sam. “Never misses one without letting someone know.”
    If Mrs. Tucker was the woman Dad had sent us to, and she was gone, had Connor gotten to her? Was she somehow connected to the Branch?
    Trev came through a side door. “I didn’t see anything down the street. No stakeouts.” Sweat glistened on his forehead.
    Nick tossed the wastebasket into the bathroom. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
    “I don’t usually side with Ol’ Crotchety Pants,” Cas said, “but I’m on board with that.”
    Sam’s grip on the cop loosened. “Someone grab the UV light. And see if one of you can find a set of keys for the Jeep by the garage.”
    Cas went to the row of keys hanging from separate hooks near the door. Trev squeezed past me and tugged open the first drawer in search of the light. He pulled out a small box and checked its contents. “Got it.”
    Cas shook a set of keys. “I’ll see if I can get the Jeep started.” He disappeared outside.
    The cop slumped against the fridge. He wasn’t very old. Mid-twenties, maybe. Buzz-cut hair, like Sam’s, except the cop was blond, tan, and slight in build, whereas Sam was tall and broad-shouldered.
    “We don’t know Mrs. Tucker,” Sam said, “and we didn’t come here intending to hurt anyone. We’re going to walk out of here, and you’re not going to follow.”
    The cop acknowledged the order with a slow nod, and Sam let him go. Trev and Nick made their way to the door. Sam motioned me forward. I sidestepped the pile of splinters, skirting around the cop. As I passed he reached for me, but Sam was quicker.
    Sam snatched the man’s wrist, threw a punch. The cop crashed to the floor with a howl.
    “Go,” Sam said, pushing me through the laundry room. Out the door. Down the driveway. “Get your mother’s journal.”
    I grabbed it from the SUV while Cas wheeled the Jeep around.
    Sam popped the hood of the cop car and yanked at the hoses; something hissed in return. Nick tore out the computer, smashed the radio.
    Trev slid into the Jeep as Cas abandoned the driver’s seat for Sam. I climbed into the passenger side.
    Five seconds later, Sam was behind the Jeep’s wheel. He tore through the yard, kicking up clumps of grass with the spin of the tires. When we were out of the hills, far away from the house, he slammed on the brakes.
    I braced myself with a hand on the dash. Trev hit the backside of my seat with an umph . A cloud of dust swirled past us, dancing in the glare of the headlights.
    “What the hell?” Nick said.
    Sam twisted sideways. He leaned toward me and I took a shuddering breath. “What aren’t you telling me about the note?”
    My mouth went dry. “Nothing.”
    “Don’t play dumb.”
    I couldn’t tell him what I thought I saw, that the writing was similar to my mother’s. I was too tired, too stressed. I was seeing things.
    “I’m not playing anything.”
    I wiped any shred of emotion from my face as Sam analyzed me. Before I knew what he was doing, he had my mother’s journal open in his lap, the note spread out over its pages. I scrambled for it, but he pushed me away.
    Now he would see how crazy I was. He would know I saw my mother where she couldn’t possibly be. It was wishful thinking.
    When he met my eyes a moment later, I shrank away.
    “It’s your mother’s handwriting.”
    “Holy shit,” Cas said.
    Trev leaned forward to see for himself.
    “Great,” Nick muttered.
    I shook my head. My mother was dead. DEAD. My father wouldn’t lie about something as big as that. Furthermore, Mrs. Tucker, or whoever she was, knew Sam. My mother couldn’t possibly know him.
    “It’s just a coincidence,” I said meekly.
    Trev cleared his throat. “Things are rarely coincidental. It’s a lazy excuse.”
    I scowled at him. Wasn’t he supposed to be on my side? “I’m not trying to make excuses.” He, out of all the boys, knew how badly I wanted my